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A Glimpse Under the Cold Mask
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2025-07-03 21:57:55Noah was halfway through updating Elias’s meeting calendar when the screen glitched.
Then froze.
“Don’t do this now,” he muttered, tapping the touchpad like that would magically fix it.
He hadn’t saved in fifteen minutes.
A sharp ding came from Elias’s office.
The glass door slid open.
“Noah,” Elias’s voice called—calm, precise.
Noah jumped up, heart thudding. “Coming.”
He stepped inside.
Elias didn’t look up from the tablet in his hand. “Have you reviewed the Q3 budget report?”
“Yes,” Noah said, even though he hadn’t finished it yet.
Elias finally lifted his eyes. That was enough to make Noah feel like he’d lied under oath.
“You’re sweating.”
“It’s hot.”
“It’s seventy degrees.” Elias tilted his head. “Why are you lying to me?”
Noah swallowed. “My system froze. I lost some data. I didn’t want to make excuses.”
Elias stared at him. Silent.
Then, quietly: “Show me.”
Noah blinked. “What?”
“Your screen.”
He hesitated—embarrassed, a little annoyed. But he handed over the tablet anyway.
Elias examined it for no more than ten seconds before walking to his desk, typing something into his own terminal, and… fixing it.
Just like that.
The spreadsheet reloaded. Unsaved entries restored. Even the formatting was corrected.
“You backed it up?” Noah asked, stunned.
“I back up everything my assistants touch,” Elias said flatly. “Most of them fail.”
Noah just stared at him.
“You’re not the first who’s fallen apart under pressure. But you’re the first,” Elias said slowly, handing the tablet back, “who told me the truth.”
Noah held the tablet in both hands. His fingers trembled a little.
Not from fear this time.
From confusion.
Because for the first time, Elias Voss hadn’t sounded like a robot or a tyrant.
He’d sounded… almost human.
“Thank you,” Noah said.
Elias didn’t respond.
---
Later that evening, everyone on the floor had gone home. Except Noah.
He sat at his desk, shoulders aching, double-checking Elias’s itinerary for the next day. He had just powered down when the door behind him opened again.
Elias stood there, holding a cup of something.
“Coffee?” Noah asked, surprised.
“Tea,” Elias said. “You drink it. Every day. Four p.m. With honey.”
Noah blinked. “You noticed?”
“I don’t make a habit of noticing. It’s inefficient,” Elias said, crossing the short distance and placing the mug on Noah’s desk. “But you’re inconsistent with caffeine. Tea keeps you productive longer.”
Noah stared at the cup.
Then at Elias.
“You made this?”
“I’m not incompetent, Mr. Hart.”
Noah reached for the mug. Their fingers brushed.
Just a light touch. A second.
But something passed between them.
A flicker. A spark.
Noah’s breath hitched. Elias’s jaw flexed.
“You’re staring,” Elias murmured.
Noah pulled his hand back. “Sorry.”
Elias said nothing. Just turned, walked back into his office, and shut the door behind him.
Noah sat in stunned silence, heart thudding hard enough to make his ribs ache.
He looked down at the tea.
It smelled like citrus and something warm and subtle.
Something he couldn’t name.
Something that made him feel seen.
And that terrified him more than anything Elias had ever said.
---
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