Chapter 6: Office Tensions

The elevator ride felt longer than a lifetime.

Julia smoothed her thrifted blazer for the tenth time, trying not to fidget under the mirrored ceiling’s harsh reflection. The Hughes Corporation headquarters gleamed like a monument to arrogance—glass, marble, and the faint scent of wealth she no longer belonged to.

You can do this, she told herself. Keep your head down, work hard, get paid.

The elevator dinged.

 Welcome to the 18th floor: Marketing Division.

Rows of sleek desks, humming computers, and people who looked like they were born wearing designer suits. Julia clutched her staff badge and found her assigned seat—right at the corner, next to the copier and far from the sunlight. Perfect. Invisible.

“New temp?” a woman’s voice chirped.

Julia turned. Ms. Sanders—sharp heels, sharper smile—stood with a folder tucked under her arm. “I’m your supervisor. You’ll handle errands, proofreading, and whatever else I decide you can handle. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Julia said quickly.

Ms. Sanders’s eyes flicked down at Julia’s scuffed shoes. “Try not to look too desperate. Clients can smell it.”

Laughter rippled from nearby desks. Julia’s cheeks burned, but she said nothing. She couldn’t afford to lose another job.

Before she could breathe, the door swung open.

A tall man stumbled in—late, disheveled, in a cheap uniform shirt that barely fit his broad shoulders. His hair, once the kind that probably cost hundreds to style, was a tousled mess.

Brandon Hughes.

The room froze. Even in his faded clothes, that name carried weight.

“Mr. Hughes?” someone whispered.

 “Isn’t that—?”

 “No way. The disowned son?”

Brandon ignored the murmurs, dropping into the empty seat beside Julia. “Morning,” he said, voice casual—as if he didn’t just walk into his family’s company like a ghost at his own funeral.

Julia stiffened. “You work here?”

He gave a half-grin. “Apparently. Don’t worry, I’ll try not to ruin your reputation.”

Too late for that, she thought grimly.

===

The day unfolded like a slow-motion disaster.

Brandon spilled coffee—twice. Once on Ms. Sanders’s presentation notes, then on the team’s quarterly report. He jammed the copier so badly that even IT gave up. Julia tried to stay invisible, but somehow, every one of his mistakes splashed onto her.

“Julia!” Ms. Sanders snapped. “You’re responsible for assisting him, aren’t you? Fix it!”

Julia wanted to scream that she wasn’t, that she’d never agreed to babysit a grown man—but Brandon was standing there, frowning like a lost child.

So instead, she smiled tightly and said, “Yes, ma’am.”

By noon, her nerves were frayed.

She found Brandon near the pantry, trying to figure out how to refill the coffee machine. “You can’t just pour the beans directly into the filter,” she said, exasperated.

He blinked. “Oh. That explains the weird smell.”

“Do you ever think before acting?” she snapped, grabbing the filter and fixing it herself.

Brandon leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “I thought you were the quiet type, Julia.”

“I am. Until someone threatens my job with sheer stupidity.”

His lips twitched. “You could’ve just let me fail.”

“I tried. You keep failing at me.”

That earned a low chuckle—warm, amused, the kind that made her pulse jump for reasons she refused to admit.

She turned away before he could see her blush.

===

By afternoon, the damage control continued. The copier was still broken, and Ms. Sanders demanded printed reports before the client meeting.

Julia bit her lip, glancing at Brandon. “Move,” she ordered, kneeling to open the machine’s side panel.

“I can fix it,” he said stubbornly.

“You’ve done enough.”

He crouched beside her anyway, his arm brushing hers. “You always this bossy?”

“Only when surrounded by disasters.”

“I’m trying to learn.”

“Then stop breaking everything.”

They both froze when Ms. Sanders appeared behind them. “Julia! Why isn’t this done yet?”

Julia jumped. “I—I’m almost done—”

“Almost isn’t good enough.” Ms. Sanders’s eyes narrowed. “And you—Mr. Hughes—try not to drag your coworker down with you.”

Julia’s heart clenched as Brandon’s jaw tightened. He said nothing, just stepped back silently.

When the supervisor left, Julia sighed and whispered, “I’ll cover this. Go handle the delivery forms.”

Brandon didn’t move. “You don’t have to.”

“If I don’t, we get blamed.”

He hesitated, then nodded. “You really hate losing, huh?”

She met his eyes. “I hate being powerless.”

For a second, something flickered across his expression—recognition. But before he could speak, the office door opened again.

===

“Julia.”

 James Whitmore’s voice carried quiet authority. He stood in the doorway in a tailored suit, looking entirely out of place among the cubicles.

Her pulse stuttered. “Mr. Whitmore. I—I didn’t know you were visiting this department.”

“Routine check.” His gaze slid to Brandon, then back to her. “May I have a word?”

Julia followed him out into the corridor.

James leaned close, lowering his voice. “You shouldn’t involve yourself with him.”

Her brows furrowed. “He’s my coworker.”

“He’s a Hughes. Which means trouble. You think the company forgot what his family did to yours?”

Julia froze. “That’s—”

 “Not gossip,” he cut in smoothly. “A warning. You’re smart, Julia. Don’t get entangled. Hughes men bring ruin.”

Her stomach twisted. “I don’t care about Brandon. He’s just—he’s no one to me.”

James studied her face, searching. “Good. Keep it that way.”

He walked off, leaving behind the faint scent of his cologne and a gnawing confusion in her chest.

===

Back at her desk, Julia threw herself into work, trying to ignore the whispers, the glances, the way Brandon sat in silence for once.

When Ms. Sanders demanded the final printouts, Julia hurried to the copier. The machine sputtered but produced the needed pages—barely legible, but enough.

She could’ve blamed Brandon. She should have.

Instead, when Ms. Sanders glared at the uneven ink, Julia said, “It was my fault. I used the wrong settings.”

The supervisor sighed. “One more mistake, Julia, and you’re out.”

Julia bowed slightly. “Understood.”

As Ms. Sanders walked away, Julia felt a shadow fall across her desk.

Brandon stood there, hands in his pockets, gaze unreadable. “You covered for me,” he said quietly.

She didn’t look up. “You would’ve been fired.”

“So you do care.”

Her head snapped up. “Don’t twist it.”

But he was already smiling—a slow, dangerous curve of lips that made her pulse trip.

He leaned down, close enough for her to feel his breath on her ear. “You’re a terrible liar, Julia.”

Her heartbeat stuttered.

He straightened, walked away, and left her staring after him—furious, flustered, and more confused than she’d ever been.

===

Hughes men bring ruin.

 James’s warning echoed in her mind.

 But as she watched Brandon disappear into the elevator, a traitorous thought whispered back—

Then why does ruin look so human when it’s him?