CROSS MY HEART:A BILLIONAIRE'S BARGAIN

Mr Cross gazed at Emma Carter, the phone continued to ring and the external camera flashed more frequently.

"The truth?" Mr Cross uttered with a smirk. "The truth is, we're both dead if we don't work together."

"And if we do work together?"

There was something electric and menacing between them as his eyes met hers. "Then we go to war."

The phone rang once more, with greater urgency. The journalists outside demanded statements regarding the most recent crisis involving the CEO. And one email at a time, Vanessa Thompson was planning their demise somewhere in the digital.

Who was going to make it through the night?

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"Mr. Cross, I've organized your meeting notes for the quarterly review." With her heels clicking on the marble floor, Emma Carter's words echoed throughout the clean office.

"Punctual as always, Miss Carter." Emma Carter's gaze remained fixed on her computer screen. "Tell me, do you practice these little interruptions in front of your mirror each morning?" He asked with a cold demeanor.

"Sir, just on Tuesdays. You have been a hassle. I improvise for the remainder of the week.

He was surprised at that. He looked up at her with steel-gray eyes. "Interesting. You've just been with this company two weeks, and already you've got a sharpened tongue? That's quite a challenge."

"Mr. Cross, I like to think of it as workplace efficiency. It keeps discussions going.

"Does it now?" With a spooky focus, he studied her while leaning back in his leather chair. "And where exactly do you think these conversations are moving towards?"

Emma carefully laid the folder down on his desk. "Toward a more productive working relationship, I'd hope."

"Hope?" His lips formed a dark smile. "In my experience, Miss Carter, hope is a poor substitute for competence."

"Then it's fortunate I have both, sir."

"Bold statement." At last, he took the folder. "We'll see if you can stand by your words after today's meeting.

"May I ask why?" Emma Carter arched her brows in thought.

"You might inquire. Does not imply that I will respond. His eyes returned to his computer. "Just be prepared for a long night."

"How long are we talking about?"

"Worried about your social life, Miss Carter?"

"Worried about my overtime pay, Mr. Cross."

He genuinely made a harsh, startled sound as he chuckled at that. "Trust me, if you survive tonight, overtime will be the least of your concerns."

"Is that a threat or a promise?"

"That depends entirely on your performance." Once more, his gaze met hers. "Don't disappoint me."

Mr Cross was the ruthless CEO of the properly planned schedule for the quarterly review meeting. Emma observed the corporate speech while taking notes from her corner.

When Mr Cross said, "Q3 projections exceed expectations," "The Morrison account alone-"

"What about Vanessa's report?" Jenkins, a board member, cut in. "She raised several red flags before her... departure."

The way Cross's fingers whitened around his pen was not lost on Emma.

His words were exact: "Vanessa Thompson was dealing with personal issues that clouded her judgment."

"Personal issues?" Emma whispered to herself. "Is that what we're calling whistleblowing now?"

Mr Cross's head jerked in her direction. "Something to contribute, Miss Carter?"

"Sir, just taking note of the phrase. Regarding the minutes.

"After this meeting, see me. We'll talk about your note-taking abilities."

After several hours, the office was empty but for their two desks. The room was filled with long shadows as the city lights ran through the floor to the ceiling and windows.

"Pull up the Morrison files," Mr Cross said abruptly as he emerged behind her chair.

"All of them?"

"Start with September." Her ear was tickled by his breath. "The month everything went to hell."

Emma tried to ignore his closeness as she typed rapidly. "Sir, these numbers... they don't match the quarterly report."

"Don't they?" She sensed that he was agitated, although his speech was neutral. "How fascinating."

"There's more." She pulled out another document. "Vanessa's original analysis shows a pattern of-"

He slammed his hand against the desk. "Those files are restricted."

Emma turned around in her seat to look at him. "Then maybe they shouldn't be on the shared drive."

"Accessing restricted files is grounds for termination."

"Mr. Cross so is cooking the books. Which do you want us to talk about first?

His hands gripped her armrests as he bent down. "You have no idea what you're getting into."

"Then enlighten me." She was not going to give up. "Why did Vanessa leave?"

"That's none of your concern."

"It became my concern the moment you asked me to stay late and work on these files."

"I asked you to compile a report, not play detective."

"What's the difference?"

"The difference," he hissed "is that one keeps you employed, and the other..."

"The other what?" He had to straighten up or risk their faces being inches apart as Emma stood up. "Gets me fired? Or brings me too near the reality?"

"The truth?" He gave a sour laugh. "You wouldn't recognize the truth if it slapped you in the face."

"Try me."

"Is that a challenge, Miss Carter?"

"Would you answer it if it was?"

Now their faces were too close. Emma could smell the pricey cologne that clung to his immaculately made suit and saw the silver sparkles in his gray eyes.

"You want answers?" He lowered his voice to a perilous whisper. "Start with why Vanessa's access code still works on restricted files when she supposedly resigned three months ago."

Emma's gaze expanded. "You knew?"

"I know everything that happens in my company."

"Do you?" She grabbed her tablet. "Then explain this."

She displayed a sequence of emails, containing numerous exchanges between Vanessa and different board members, all of which were dated after her purported resignation.

Mr Cross's face went white. "Where did you get these?"

An hour ago, they began to arrive. To every employee in the business."

"Not possible. Her account was shut off.

"Not deactivated enough." Emma read through her other emails. "And there's something else."

There was a ruckus outside the office before she could show him. At the same time, their phones began to buzz and the windows were illuminated by camera flashes.

"Mr. Cross!" A burst from his secretary. "The press is located downstairs. It's what they're saying"

"Spit it out," yelled Mr Cross.

"They have pictures. Of Miss Carter and you. starting tonight."

When Emma opened her phone's news alert, her stomach fell. There it was-a blurry but undeniable photograph of their recent altercation, her lips parted in what could only be described as...

"Fix this." The silence in Cross's voice was lethal. "Now."

"Sir, there's more." Emma opened the most recent email with trembling hands. "Look at the sender."

Mr Cross's body was rigid as he leaned in. "Vanessa's account."

"And the attachment?"

Together, they gazed at the screen, which displayed a thorough report on years of financial wrongdoing, naming both of them as key conspirators.

Whispering, "She's framing us both," Emma said.

Mr Cross desk's private line began to ring, the board chairman's direct number flashing frantically.

"Miss Carter." Mr Cross could hardly control his voice. "I must know immediately. Do you support or oppose me?

"That depends." She slowly looked into his eyes. "Are you going to tell me the truth about Vanessa?"