Chapter Eight

Scarlett's POV

Later, I find myself alone in the breakroom, rinsing out my coffee mug with more aggression than necessary. I sense him before I hear him, his cologne over powering my senses as his presence commands the spacious room.

“Still mad?” he says, leaning against the counter lazily, he gestures at a scone, his fingers outstretched like a greedy child asking for candy.

“Still arrogant?” I shoot back, drying off my hands as I pick up the scone, deciding if I should bite into it or hand it to him.

He chuckles, and it does that thing to my chest I hate.

“You’re good,” he says simply.

I glance at him. “So are you. That’s the problem.”

He collects the scone from my hand, chuckling, “You think I’m testing you…right?”

I narrow my eyes, “Aren’t you?”

“I’m challenging you,” he says. “There’s a difference. You don’t strike me as someone who wants to be handled softly.”

I blink, stunned by the way his voice drops on the word “softly.”

I mask it with a scoff. “Is that how you justify being insufferable?”

Then he straightens, the moment breaking. “Just don’t forget,” he pauses, taking a huge bite out of the gooey scone.

“You’re not here to impress me,” he bites back a moan, swearing as jam spills out the crumbly pastry.

“You’re here because you’re damn good at what you do,” he walks away, leaving me alone with that sentence.

I scoff, heading back to my office.

••••

I sat at the end of the glossy boardroom table, notebook open, pen clenched so tight in my hands, I was afraid it'd snap.

Ares’ P.A, who I had come to know as Byron, had buzzed me earlier in the week, telling me that Ares had requested I sit in on a risk assessment meeting.

So here I was, the air conditioner blaring as twelve suits surrounded me, all senior executives, board members.

People who could end careers with a glance.

I’m an intern. An intern in management, at that.

They all seemed on edge, a chair at the far end of the long glass table unoccupied.

Just how scary was Ares?

He walks in wordlessly, all the board members straightening their backs as he takes his seat.

“Let's get this started, shall we?” he asked, flipping open the files in front of him.

He goes over the files, explaining their contents to confused board members and taking a few questions.

“Let’s hear from your intern,” a blonde man cuts him off, tapping his Montblanc pen against his notepad like a gavel.

“She’s been working on the restructuring model, hasn't she?”

I glance at Ares, he doesn’t even blink.

“Go ahead,” he says, his deep voice as smooth as glass.

I feel my heart rate pick up, blood pumping in my ears as I wipe my sweaty hands on my grey skirt, getting up.

Everyone turns to me, a sea of icy blue and deep brown eyes staring me down as I take another glance at the chart on the projector and then back to the room. 

“I’m sorry,” I gulp, swallowing thickly as my voice cuts through the thick silence.

“But these deadlines in fact do not account for vendor delays. We’ll bottleneck by week three at most.”

The room stills, the air conditioner hums gently in a corner.

Ares doesn’t even look up from his notes, his voice commanding, “Scarle–Ms Hawthorne, we’ve reviewed the timeline thoroughly.” 

“With all due respect, sir,” I press, pulse rising, “You reviewed assuming it was ideal conditions. I reviewed the books and data sheets, your last two vendors missed deadlines, and you still haven’t added buffer time. If you hit the same snag again—” 

He looks up then, calm but curt. “That’s speculative.” 

“It’s realistic,” I counter, louder than intended.

I feel my voice tremble, his blue eyes swirling with hints of amusement as he stares at me down, challenging me.

“And if we keep pretending everything’s perfect, we’ll crash halfway through implementation.” 

The silence that follows is sharp. The board members exchange looks, mirroring looks of astonishment and worry, they glance at Ares whose jaw is set.

His eyes narrow slightly. “This is your first month. Let’s trust the team’s process.” 

I meet his gaze, heart pounding. “Then the process,” I say mockingly, tapping my notes, “needs fixing.” 

A beat. No one breathes. 

And then, Ares exhales—half amused, half irritated.

“Noted,” he mutters. 

But I know I just made a dent.

The room burst into murmurs, the board members whisper among themselves as their eyes silently applaud me.

“Will that be all?” Ares asks, the murmurs dying down instantly.

“No,” I continue, their eyes shooting towards me again, voice firmer than I feel.

“I worked with the operations team on the restructure. We identified redundancies in task delegation, and found that streamlining approvals through a centralized process could cut delays by 13%.

Additionally, it frees up roughly eight hours of manpower weekly.”

For a second, silence.

Then a man in a crisp beige suit speaks. “What resistance do you expect from the teams?”

“Some pushback from departments that are used to handling things independently,” I reply. “But I’ve drafted a rollout plan with feedback checkpoints. It should smoothen out the transition and allow room for adjustments.”

A pause. Then, nods. Scribbles.

Ares finally looks at me.

“Byron was already on it, he'll integrate your data into planning.”

My breath hitches, a flicker of pride glowing within me.

The meeting rolls on, but the heat in my cheeks doesn’t fade.

The meeting finally ends, the suits filing out.

“Ms Hawkthorne,” Ares calls out, taking a swig from his bottle of water.

“Yes?” I force out, walking back into the empty conference room.

“I'm not used to being so…blindsided during meetings, to say the least,” he sighs, peering down the ceiling high glass windows into the lush green yard below.

“But I do like being challenged,” he whispered.

There was a beat of silence thick enough to swallow me whole.

I shouldn’t have looked at him.

But I did.

Ares had that look again, the one that stripped away the office, the spreadsheets, the layers we tried to build between us.

His gaze settled on me like he already knew I was thinking about what would happen if we crossed that invisible line.

And suddenly, my mouth was dry.

"You're overstepping," I said, my voice betraying me.

Too soft, too curious.

"Then push me back,” he replied without missing a beat.

“I'm late for my lunch break, Mr Blackwood,”I force out, heat creeping up my cheeks as I leave Ares in the conference room.