CHAPTER FOUR

Elara's point of view

The moment the CEO stepped out of the elevator, the air snapped back into place like it had been holding its breath.

I realized I had been gasping silently only after my lungs started to burn.

I didn’t get the chance to move, process, or even properly panic before a woman in a pencil skirt and a perfectly neutral expression turned toward me, her eyes sharp with disbelief, like she’d just discovered a security breach disguised as a human being.

“Who are you?” she demanded. “How could you take the CEO’s private elevator?”

I stared at her.

No movement seemed to work. My brain was still stuck somewhere between What just happened? and Did I really just ride an elevator with him?

Private.

Of course it was private. Of course the one elevator I chose in a moment of desperation belonged exclusively to the most powerful man in the building. Because why wouldn’t the universe add that to my already impressive list of bad decisions?

“I… what?” I said, sounding exactly as intelligent as I felt. “This was the CEO’s elevator?”

I tried to look innocent. Professional. Like someone who definitely hadn’t just committed a corporate sin.

She looked at me the way one looks at a person who confesses to licking office furniture. “Yes. Obviously.”

“I didn’t know,” I said quickly, recovering enough to straighten my posture. “The elevators downstairs were crowded, and I thought I could take this one. I apologize if...”

She cut me off with a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Next time, think less.”

Right. Duly noted. Don’t accidentally share oxygen with gods.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated, because politeness had always been my survival instinct, then ducked past her and made a swift retreat toward the stairs.

By the time I reached my department, my heart was hammering so loudly I was convinced everyone could hear it. The back of my neck burned faintly, not painful, just warm enough to be unsettling, like my body was replaying something it hadn’t fully understood yet.

In the whole world, why did everything feel like it was happening to me at once?

My department occupied an open-plan floor filled with glass partitions and quiet efficiency. This was Corporate Strategy and Operations, the reason I’d worked myself half to death for the past two years. The headquarters handled high-level planning, acquisitions, and long-term expansion projects. This was where decisions were made, not just executed.

I’d been hired as a strategy analyst, entry-level but fast-tracked, which meant data analysis, presentations, market research, and assisting senior managers with reports that could change the direction of entire divisions.

Real work. Serious work.

I took my seat just as my composure began to fray.

My coworkers barely noticed my arrival. They were clustered together near the coffee station, buzzing like I’d walked into the middle of a fan club meeting instead of a workplace.

“Did you see him today?” a woman in a red blouse asked, eyes bright.

“I swear he looked straight through me,” another said, sounding far too pleased about it.

“I heard he’s single,” Red Blouse added.

“Of course he is,” someone else sighed. “Men like that don’t settle.”

Ah. Workplace gossip. Spreading faster than internal memos.

I slid into my chair quietly, powering up my system, hoping to disappear into the comfort of spreadsheets and numbers.

No such luck.

“Oh my God,” a woman exclaimed, finally noticing me. “You’re new, right? Did you see the CEO?”

I hesitated for half a second too long. “Unfortunately.”

They laughed, assuming I was joking.

“You’re so lucky,” someone said dreamily. “No one really knows him. He’s like a myth. Handsome, rich, mysterious. Every woman in this building wants to sleep with him.”

“And be Mrs. Blackwood,” another added with a sigh. “Imagine.”

I smiled politely, even as my stomach twisted.

Imagine, indeed. I had imagined a future once too. With my boyfriend. With stability. With trust. That fantasy had imploded spectacularly less than twenty-four hours ago.

Before I could escape, a woman in her early forties approached, tablet in hand, expression efficient but not unkind.

“You must be Elara,” she said. “I’m Margaret. Your supervisor.”

Relief washed over me. An anchor. Reality.

She walked me through the department calmly, introducing me to team members, outlining ongoing projects, and assigning me my first task: reviewing market expansion data for a regional acquisition proposal.

“You don’t need to finish today,” she said. “First days are overwhelming. Focus on understanding the framework.”

“Thank you,” I said sincerely. “I appreciate that.”

As I settled into work, my phone vibrated.

Once.

Twice.

Again.

Kit.

Of course it was.

I flipped the phone face down, but the buzzing continued, persistent and invasive, like he still believed he had access to me.

During a break, I stepped away and checked.

Missed calls. Voicemails. Messages.

Please talk to me.
I made a mistake.
It didn’t mean anything.
I love you.

I laughed softly, the sound brittle.

Love. Right.

I typed back once.

We’re done. I’ll contact you later to retrieve my things.

Then I blocked the number.

The silence afterward was heavy, but it was the good kind. The kind that came after finally closing a door you’d been holding open with bleeding hands.

I returned to my desk and forced myself to focus. Numbers didn’t betray you. Data didn’t lie.

Ten minutes later, Margaret appeared beside me again.

“Elara,” she said gently, “the CEO would like to see you.”

My heart dropped straight into my stomach.

“Now?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

“Yes,” she replied. “Don’t worry. Just be yourself.”

Every instinct screamed at me to run.

Instead, I stood, smoothed my blouse, and followed her directions toward the executive floor, the faint warmth at the back of my neck returning like a quiet, unwelcome reminder.

Whatever waited behind that door, I knew one thing for certain.

This was only the beginning.