CHAPTER 9: UNDER HIS WATCHFUL EYES

Maya

The walk back to the executive floor feels different this time, like I’m carrying a secret I didn’t ask for, warm and heavy in my pocket. Ethan’s latte is still perfect, cinnamon and steamed oat milk coating my tongue as we step out of the elevator.

“He’s not going to be happy,” Ethan says, nodding toward Philip’s office door, we can see shadows moving behind the glass, quick and sharp. “I’d make this fast if I were you.”

I take one last sip of coffee, then hand him the empty cup. “Thanks for the drink. And for… everything else.”

He grins, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Anytime. Just remember, if you ever need someone to talk to who isn’t trying to run your life, my number’s still good.”

Before I can respond, the office door swings open. Philip stands there, his expression unreadable, his eyes fixed on the space between me and Ethan.

“Ethan,” he says, his voice low and even but I can hear the edge underneath. “I think it’s time you head out. I have work to do with Ms. Wilson.”

Ethan holds up his hands in surrender. “Got it, got it. I’m going. But hey—Maya? We should grab dinner sometime. I know a place that makes the best…”

“Ethan,” Philip says again, and this time there’s no mistaking the steel in his voice.

His brother sighs, clapping me on the shoulder one last time before walking away. “Later, Maya. Keep him in line, will you?”

I watch him disappear into the elevator, then turn to face Philip. He’s already moved back into his office, standing by the window with his hands clasped behind his back. The city stretches out below us, cars crawling along the streets like tiny ants, streetlights flickering on as the sun starts to dip low in the sky.

“You’re late,” he says, not turning around.

“Five minutes isn’t late,” I reply, closing the door behind me. “And you said I could take a break.”

“You said you’d be back in five minutes. It’s been twelve.” He finally turns, and the air in the room goes thick. “I have a strict schedule, Ms. Wilson. I expect everyone who works for me to respect that.”

I take a step forward, setting my bag on the edge of his desk. “I’m sorry if I kept you waiting. I was just—”

“Adjusting to your new surroundings?” He cuts me off, walking around to sit behind his desk. “I understand this is a lot to take in. Apex isn’t like other companies. We move fast, we expect excellence, and we don’t have time for distractions.”

“Distractions,” I repeat, leaning against the desk opposite him. “Is that what I am? A distraction?”

He looks up from the stack of papers he’s sorting through, his eyes meeting mine. They’re dark now, almost black in the low light from the window, and something in them makes my skin prickle. “You’re an intern. A talented one, if your application is anything to go by. But you’re also Monica’s daughter. That makes things… complicated.”

“Complicated how?” I push off the desk, walking closer until I’m standing just a few feet from his chair. “Because you’re engaged to my mom? Because you think I’ll get in the way of your plans?”

He sets down his pen, leaning back in his chair. “I think you’re angry. And when people are angry, they make mistakes. I don’t want you to make a mistake you’ll regret.”

“I’ve already made plenty of those,” I say quietly. “Like believing you were the good guy.”

“I never said I was a good guy.” He stands up, and suddenly the space between us feels small. “I’m a businessman. I make decisions that are good for my company, good for the people who work for me. Sometimes those decisions aren’t pretty. But I’ve never intentionally hurt anyone.”

“Tell that to my dad,” I say, my voice sharp. “He’s been sleeping on a couch for three months because you swept in and took his wife away.”

“He chose to sleep on that couch,” Philip says, his voice low. “Monica gave him the house. She offered to stay in the guest room until he found his feet. He said no. He said he couldn’t bear to be in the same house as her if she wasn’t his wife anymore.”

I freeze—my mom never told me that. Never mentioned she’d offered to let Dad stay in their house, never said he’d been the one to leave. The anger in my chest wavers, replaced by a sharp, cold shock.

“Why didn’t she tell me?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

“Because she didn’t want to hurt you,” he says, taking a step closer. “Because she thought if you knew the truth, that he walked away from her, not the other way around and you’d hate him. And she couldn’t bear that.”

The words hit me hard, and I have to look away to keep from crying. All this time, I’d blamed him… Philip—for breaking up my family. But what if the truth was that my dad had been the one to let go?

“I don’t believe you,” I say, but my voice cracks.

“Ask your mom,” he says, his hand brushing against mine as he reaches for a folder on the desk. The touch is light, barely there but it makes me feel butterflies in my belly. “Ask her why he really left. I promise you’ll get an answer you don’t expect.”

Our hands are still touching, his fingers resting just above mine, warm and steady. Neither of us pulls away. The air in the room is thick now, heavy with unspoken words and things we can’t name. I can feel his breath on my cheek, warm and steady. I can see the way his eyes drop to my lips for just a second before snapping back up, dark with something I recognize now—want.

“Mr. Davenport—”

“Philip,” he says, his voice low. “We’re not at a board meeting. Call me Philip.”

“Philip,” I repeat, the name feeling strange on my tongue. It fits him…strong, sharp, serious.

He leans in just a little closer, so close that our foreheads almost touch. I can feel his heartbeat against my arm, steady and strong.

“Careful, Maya,” he says, his voice barely a whisper. “You don’t know what you’re starting, I've told you this at the party. And I've said it again.”