Chapter 5

I never thought it was possible to feel like dying when you're still breathing, still alive. But that’s exactly how I’d felt these past few days. Shame, fear, and anxiety wrapped around me like chains. It’s been almost a week since that happened. And every second, I was waiting for them to fire me.

Why did I mess up? It wasn’t even about the mistake anymore. It felt like they didn’t trust me. Romeo and Rose tried to comfort me, but even they looked nervous. They said it wasn’t normal. People here, if they messed up or disrespected someone, didn’t last long.

So, during lunch breaks, we stopped talking about work completely. It was like walking on eggshells.

The pedestrian light turned green. I crossed the street, moving fast. I always arrived early. It was my defense mechanism now, come first, work hard, stay invisible. I couldn’t afford another slip-up.

I was just about to run towards the towering office building when a hand landed on my shoulder.

I almost screamed. “Oh my gosh, Mr. Gibson!”

A familiar laugh followed. “Seriously? Mr. Gibson?”

It was him. The guy who helped me on my first day. He looked casual in black pants and a plain white t-shirt, holding a rolled-up magazine. A few people around us slowed down, curious.

I brushed his hand off. “You scared me! I nearly had a heart attack!”

He chuckled, sliding his hand into his pocket. “Mr. Gibson? Are you crushing on your boss or what? You’ve been talking about him nonstop for a week.”

“Feeling close, aren’t we?” I raised a brow, ignoring his teasing. “What are you even doing here? Following me?”

“Excuse me? You’re not the only one allowed to work.” He smirked. “Besides, a walking dwarf almost broke my ribs.”

My jaw dropped. “Dwarf? I’m average height, thank you very much!”

He shielded his face from the sun with the magazine. “Sure. We’ll tell that to the village.”

I rolled my eyes, snatched the magazine from his hand, and darted towards the building. “Borrowing this!”

“Hey, come back!”

Laughing, I slipped inside the building. I held the magazine up to cover my face, sneaking through the lobby like a criminal hiding from the cops.

But the real question wasn’t how to hide.

It was,  what was he really doing here?

There was no one else around, the perk of coming back early. But my whole body tensed when I heard a familiar voice.

Mr. Gibson.

Gosh!.

He was walking in with other businessmen, his bodyguards trailing behind, and his assistant by his side.

I practically snapped my neck turning away, ducking behind the magazine I was holding like it could save my life. Their footsteps were close. I froze. No way they'd use this ordinary elevator. No way he'd notice me.

“We need a marketing strategy no one's ever done before,” Mr. Gibson's voice was cool, steady. “Something bold enough to make people remember it.”

“I agree,” someone else said. “We can tap influencers, use social media, it’s powerful these days.”

“Indeed,” Mr. Gibson replied shortly.

Their conversation drifted on, but I stayed hidden behind the flimsy pages of my magazine, barely breathing. Then a familiar scent, clean, expensive cologne, washed over me. My heart dropped to my shoes.

Peeking out slowly, I nearly choked.

Mr. Gibson was standing right in front of me, casually pressing the elevator button.

“Lunch break over?” He raised a brow.

I forced a tight smile. “Yes, sir. I just finished.”

His eyes flicked to his watch. “You still have ten minutes. Planning to start early?”

My brain scrambled. Say something smart. Say anything that doesn’t sound guilty. I could already picture him turning to his assistant, asking them to fire me. He probably remembered what happened last time. I was doomed.

“Unless you smoke,” he added, watching me carefully. “Do you?”

I shook my head too quickly. “No, sir. I,  I forgot something on my desk.”

Before he could say more, his assistant leaned in. “Sir, the VIPs are waiting.”

He waved her off. “Take them up. I’ll use this one.”

Then, to me, he gestured toward the elevator. “Ladies first?”

His assistant's mouth practically fell open, but she caught herself, nodding stiffly before leading the others away.

I stepped inside the elevator, my pulse hammering in my ears.

What was that supposed to mean?

“What are you waiting for?” His voice was sharper this time, impatient.

I snapped out of my frozen state and hurried inside the elevator. My heels clicked on the floor, louder than they should have been. It felt like I’d gained an extra kilo just standing near him.

I shifted to the side to make space, but my ankle wobbled. It happened so fast, the magazine slipped from my hand, and I stumbled forward.

Before I could fall, his hand caught my waist.

“You okay? Do you feel sick?” His voice lost its edge, replaced by concern.

I barely registered his words. His arm steadied me, warm against my waist, and I realized how close he was. His chest brushed my back, his lips near my hair. Instinctively, I inhaled sharply, and the faint scent of his cologne nearly knocked me over again.

His hand slid up gently to support my stomach, steadying me like I was made of glass. Heat rushed through my entire body, and I jerked away, flustered.

Silence filled the elevator.

“Have you eaten?” he asked, his tone serious now.

I couldn’t even open my mouth. My brain wasn’t ready to function, not with him that close seconds ago.

“Did you lose your voice?” he pressed. “Are you alright?”

“S-Sorry, sir!” I blurted. “Yes, I,  I ate. I’m okay. I just, ” I forced a weak smile, avoiding his eyes. “I’m not used to these heels yet.”

“You can wear anything you want, you know,” he said simply.

I blinked. “I,  I don’t want to break the company’s dress code.”

He shrugged, a small smirk forming. “I’ll give you an exemption. As long as it’s not revealing, I’ll allow it.”

My jaw almost dropped. I stared at him, trying to process his words. My cheeks burned so much I thought I might faint. My stomach twisted with nerves, or maybe,  butterflies. Either way, it felt dangerous.

“Safety is a priority here,” he added when I stayed quiet. “My team and I discussed the dress code a few days ago. It’s not approved yet,  but,  just so you know, you can wear whatever makes you comfortable.”

The elevator doors chimed softly as they opened.

But comfort? That wasn’t possible, not when he was looking at me like that.

I forced a polite smile, showing my teeth, trying not to look like a complete idiot. “Thank you for that, sir. I appreciate your concern.”

I was proud. My voice didn’t even stutter.

The elevator chimed as it reached my floor. The doors slid open, and I bowed slightly before hurrying out like my life depended on it.

“Ms. Watson?”

I froze mid-step, heat creeping up my neck. I turned slowly. “Y-Yes, sir? Do you need something?”

“I believe this magazine belongs to you.”

My heart sank. He bent down to pick it up, but I panicked, rushing forward to grab it before him, but he straightened smoothly, already holding it out.

Perfect. Just when I thought I couldn’t be more humiliated. He wasn’t the type to pick things up for anyone. More like,  the type of people who scrambled to pick things up for.

I hugged the magazine to my chest, praying the floor would swallow me. “Thank you, sir! Sorry for the trouble, it won’t happen again!”

He tilted his head slightly, confused. “I don’t mind at all.” He held the elevator’s open button, eyes flicking to the magazine. “But,  why are you carrying around an adult magazine?”

My entire body stiffened. Slowly, I looked down,  and nearly collapsed in horror.

Front and center: an almost naked woman posing for the world to see. Damn that guy! Why was he carrying this around?!

“Ah,  Ehm it’s,  for my brother!” The lie burst out of me like a reflex. “Yes, my brother. Huge fan of Arci Muñoz. Asked me to buy it.”

His brows pulled together, doubt all over his face. He probably knew I didn’t have a brother, but hopefully, he wasn’t that invested in my family tree.

Mr. Gibson’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “Well then,  tell your brother I hope he enjoys the magazine.” His eyes twinkled with amusement. “And let him know,  I’d love to meet him someday.”

Before I could form a reply, the elevator doors slid shut, trapping my dignity inside.

I stood there, clutching the incriminating magazine, completely mortified.

Could this day get any worse?