CHAPTER FIVE

Elara's point of view

By the time Margaret told me the CEO wanted to see me, my brain had already reached its own verdict. I was in trouble.

The kind that came with carefully worded emails and phrases like “not aligned with company culture” and “we wish you the best in your future endeavors.” The kind that made you regret every life choice that had led you to stepping into the wrong elevator on the wrong morning with the wrong man.

I nodded like a professional adult and stood up like someone walking toward a firing squad.

The walk to the executive floor felt longer than it should have. Each step echoed too loudly, my heels tapping out a rhythm that sounded suspiciously like you messed up, you messed up, you messed up. My mind replayed the morning without my permission. The elevator doors. The quiet. The way he’d looked at me. Not angry. Not amused. Just… aware.

Too aware.

I stopped in front of the CEO’s office and hesitated.

This was ridiculous. I had presented to directors before. I had defended strategies in rooms full of men who enjoyed watching junior analysts sweat. I had survived worse days than this.

Still, my hand hovered inches from the door.

Get it together, I told myself. You’re not a teenager waiting outside the principal’s office.

I knocked.

“Come in.”

The voice was calm, even, and unbothered. That somehow made it worse.

The office was larger than I expected but not ostentatious. Clean lines. Muted colors. A place designed for thinking, not intimidation. Aeron Blackwood stood near the window, city lights catching faintly on the glass behind him, his back to me.

He turned as I stepped in.

“Ms. Vale,” he said. “Please, have a seat.”

Not sit. Not now. Please.

I sat.

Carefully. Gracefully. As if my body wasn’t humming with leftover nerves and exhaustion.

For a moment, he didn’t speak. He reviewed something on his tablet, expression unreadable. The silence stretched, and my thoughts filled it instantly.

Why call me up here after hours?

Why not mention the elevator?

Why does it feel like I’m missing something important?

I folded my hands in my lap, nails pressing lightly into my palms to keep myself anchored.

“I wanted to check in with you,” he said finally, setting the tablet aside. “First days can be… disorienting.”

That was not what I expected.

“Yes,” I said cautiously. “They can be.”

“You transferred from a regional branch,” he continued. “Strategy and Operations.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’ve worked primarily on market expansion analysis.”

“Yes.” I nodden gently.

He nodded once, as if confirming something to himself. “Headquarters work is different. Broader scope. Faster decisions. Less margin for error.”

“I understand,” I said. “That’s why I wanted the transfer.”

Something in his gaze sharpened slightly at that.

“Ambition is useful here,” he said. “But only when paired with judgment.”

There it was. The bomb I was waiting for to drop.

I straightened subtly. “I agree.”

Still, he didn’t mention the elevator.

The silence crept back in, thick and deliberate.

He spoke instead about the company. About long-term growth strategies, upcoming acquisitions, internal restructuring. I listened, truly listened, because this was the work I cared about. This was why I was here. His perspective was sharp, efficient, almost clinical, but there was an undercurrent of intensity beneath it, like he carried the weight of every decision personally.

I found myself responding without thinking, offering a brief insight about regional scalability, about consumer behavior shifts I’d noticed in the data. He looked at me then. He really looked, like he wanted to see through my eyes and steal my soul.

 “That’s a valid observation,” he said. “Most people miss that.”

My stomach flipped traitorously.

Why wasn’t he reprimanding me?

Why was he discussing strategy like this was a mentorship meeting instead of a warning?

The chemistry crept in quietly, insidiously. Not loud. Not obvious. Just awareness. Proximity. The way the air seemed to tighten when he moved closer to the desk, when I caught the faint scent of his cologne, clean and restrained.

My heart rate picked up. Annoyingly.

I told myself it was stress.

The warmth at the back of my neck returned, subtle but unmistakable. I shifted in my seat, adjusting my collar without thinking.

His gaze flicked there for half a second.

I froze. But he didn’t comment.

Instead, he stepped back, reestablishing distance, professionalism snapping back into place like armor.

“You’ve done well today,” he said. “Despite the circumstances.”

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

He paused, then added, “However.”

There it was again.

“Protocol matters,” he continued evenly. “Mistakes happen. What matters is that they aren’t repeated.”

“Yes, sir,” I said immediately. “They won’t be.”

“I believe you.”

The meeting ended just like that.

No accusations. No punishment. No mention of the elevator at all.

As I stood to leave, exhaustion hit me all at once, heavy and unrelenting.

“Ms. Vale,” he said as I reached the door.

I turned.

“Be mindful,” he said. “This environment rewards attention to detail.”

“I will,” I replied.

And then I left.

I didn’t breathe properly until I was in the elevator going down.

By the time I reached Emily’s apartment later that night, I felt wrung out. She took one look at me and handed me a glass of water without asking.

“I need to find a new place to live,” I said immediately.

Her eyebrows shot up. “That bad?”

“That bad,” I confirmed.

We were halfway through discussing logistics when the doorbell rang.

Emily frowned. “Were you expecting someone?”

“No.”

My stomach sank.

I stood and walked to the door, every instinct already screaming.

I opened it.

Kit stood there.

And just like that, the day wasn’t done with me yet.