His Assistant

Chapter 37

Kiara’s POV

The soft hum of conversation and the comforting smell of vanilla and espresso wrapped around me the moment I stepped into Isabella’s café. It had quickly become my safe place—warm, inviting, and filled with pieces of her personality in every corner.

From the pastel tiles to the handwritten chalkboard menu, everything about the space felt intentional. Earned.

“You look exhausted,” Isabella said as soon as she spotted me, she guided me to the counter where i sat. She slid a cup of tea across to me before I could even ask.

“Long day,” I admitted, shrugging out of my coat.

“But a good one.”

She smiled knowingly. “Let me guess. Tall, annoying billionaire with dimples?”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop the smile that followed. “He’s still annoying.”

“Mmm-hmm,” she said, unconvinced. “Finish your tea. I’ll lock up once the last customer leaves, then we’ll head home.”

I nodded, letting myself relax for the first time all day. Brandon and I had spoken earlier—briefly, but warmly. He’d reassured me again that whatever had happened with Cindy was under control. I believed him. I wanted to believe him.

By the time Isabella flipped the sign to Closed and began stacking chairs, the sky outside had deepened into that quiet indigo blue that only came just before night settled in. I grabbed my bag and stepped outside first, inhaling the cool air.

That was when I saw her.

She stood across the street, leaning casually against a black SUV, dressed impeccably in a cream trench coat and heels that looks like they cost alot. Her hair was sleek, makeup flawless. She started crossing the road walking towards me, looking composed. Controlled.

Cindy.

My steps slowed instinctively. My heart didn’t race—but it tightened.

“Kiara Knight,” she said smoothly,  as she stopped in front of me, with unhurried confidence. “I was hoping I’d catch you.”

I closed the door to the cafe properly, I just know it's about to get messy and i don't want Isabella involved.

“I don’t think we have anything to talk about,” I replied evenly.

She smiled—not unkindly, but not warmly either. “I won’t take much of your time.”

I crossed my arms, grounding myself. “Say what you want to say.”

Her eyes flicked briefly to the café window, then back to me. “I know about you and Brandon.”

There it was.

“I figured you would,” I said. “You showed up at his house uninvited. Boundaries clearly aren’t your thing.”

She laughed softly. “You’re sharper than I expected. I always thought you were just a shy, goody two shoes assistant, doing whatever Brandon tells you to do. I see you changed your wardrobe, good for you, you looked like a grandma before".

I scoffed, "You seriously came all the way to see me to talk about my wardrobe, girl bye" I clapped back, certainly not taking her insults when I can stand up for myself.

She laughed, "Oh, you developed confidence as well, Brandon always did like confident women.” She tilted her head. “At least, for a while.”

I didn’t respond.

“You see,” she continued calmly, “Brandon has a pattern. He gets intrigued. He gets intense. And then… he gets bored.”

My fingers curled slightly around my bag strap.