His incredulity, the sharpness in his tone, shattered the fragile self-respect I had clung to. He looked at me as if I were a fool.
I swallowed the dryness in my throat, willing my voice not to waver. "Since you won't take it, forget it." I reached for the box, intending to take it back.
But Cayden wasn't ready to let it go. He shot to his feet and gripped my shoulders. "What do you mean by this? Are you blaming me? Blaming me for not marrying you?"
The intensity in his voice was enough to send a surge of panic through me. I instinctively glanced toward the doorway, where a few of the boys stood, pretending not to listen but clearly eavesdropping.
I shook off his hands, taking a step back to put distance between us. Forcing calm into my voice, I replied, "How could I blame you, Mr. Cooper? It's not my place to judge your choices."
He studied me, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. Whenever Cayden was in a foul mood, his brows would arch and then knit together in a subtle frown—a tell he never managed to hide.
"Is that so?" he said, his voice cool and clipped. "If that's the case, report to the office tomorrow. You'll be my assistant."
I froze, the weight of his words sinking in. Assistant?