Chapter 4: A Proper Review

(Ciara’s POV)

“I am having second thoughts,” he said slowly, and my throat went dry instantly.

“About letting you walk away that easily.” He tilted his head slightly, his eyes locked on mine with a calm intensity that made my chest tighten.

“After all, Ciara…” He paused briefly.

“You still owe me a proper review.” For a few seconds, I forgot how to breathe.

A proper what? My brain stopped working, my thoughts scattering in confusion, and whatever dignity I had left disappeared immediately.

“Sir?” I croaked.

He did not smile, and that made everything worse. If he smiled, I could pretend it was a joke. If he looked angry, I could apologize again. But this calm and unreadable expression was something else entirely, and it was deeply unsettling.

“I do not understand,” I said carefully, hoping I had misunderstood him.

“I believe you do,” he replied calmly.

I did not. I absolutely did not. “Sir, with all due respect,” I said, clearing my throat, “I think we should forget everything that happened last night.”

“Should we?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said quickly. “Completely and permanently.”

He stepped closer, and I stepped back without thinking. He noticed, of course he noticed. His gaze dropped slightly as though he was tracking every movement I made, as though nothing about me escaped his attention.

“I do not forget easily,” he said calmly.

“I do,” I replied quickly. “Very easily. I have already forgotten most of it.”

That was a lie, and we both knew it. His brow lifted slightly.

“Interesting.” I nodded too quickly.

“Yes, it is very interesting, so if that is all, sir, I will just…”

“You said I was overpriced.” I froze completely.

Why would he bring that up again? Why would he remember that part so clearly?

“I also recall you claimed you have had better,” he added calmly.

I covered my face immediately.

“I was drunk,” I said. “I was not thinking clearly.”

“Look at me.” I did not want to, I really did not want to, but I slowly lowered my hands. That was a mistake because he was closer now, much closer than before, close enough for me to feel the weight of his presence.

“And yet you claim you do not remember,” he said quietly.

“That is correct,” I replied, even though my voice lacked confidence.

“So you made a judgment without evidence.”

“I would not call it judgment,” I said weakly. “It was confusion.”

“Confusion,” he repeated.

“Yes.” He paused briefly, watching me carefully.

“Then it is only fair that you correct that confusion.”

My mind stopped again.

“I am sorry, what?”

“You owe me accuracy,” he said. Accuracy. The word echoed in my head like it was supposed to mean something important, but at that moment, it meant absolutely nothing to me.

“I do not think human resources would approve of this conversation,” I said quickly. A flicker of something passed through his eyes, something that looked dangerously close to amusement.

“Relax, Ciara. I am not asking for anything inappropriate.”

That did not make me feel better. “Then what are you asking for?” I asked carefully. He held my gaze without hesitation. “A second chance to be properly assessed.”

I blinked once, then twice, then a third time, hoping the words would rearrange themselves into something that made sense

. “Sir, are you serious?”

“Yes,” he replied calmly. I opened my mouth, closed it, and then opened it again, but nothing came out because I had no idea how to respond to that.

“You will keep your job,” he continued, and relief flooded through me instantly, so fast it almost made me dizzy.

“But…” My heart dropped again. “There will be no more reckless assumptions.”

“Yes, sir,” I said immediately.

“No more throwing money at strangers.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you will maintain professionalism at all times.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

He stepped back and returned to his desk as though nothing unusual had just happened, as though my entire existence had not just been shaken in the span of a few minutes.

“You may go.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said quickly, turning toward the door before he could change his mind. I walked out as calmly as I could manage, but the moment the door closed behind me, I exhaled loudly.

“I am alive,” I whispered to myself. “I am actually alive.”

By the time I got back to my desk, Lizzie was already waiting, her chair turned toward me, her eyes wide with curiosity, her entire posture screaming anticipation.

“What happened?” she asked immediately.

“I saw my life flash before my eyes,” I replied dramatically.

“Tell me everything,” she insisted. I looked around quickly before leaning closer.

“He returned the money.” Her eyes widened instantly.

“He did what?”

“He said, and I quote, ‘I am not a prostitute.’” She slapped the table lightly.

“I knew it.”

“Keep your voice down,” I said quickly.

“I apologized,” I continued.

“Like a responsible human being.” “As you should,” she replied. “And then…” I hesitated. Her eyes lit up immediately. “And then?”

“He said I owe him a proper review.” Silence fell between us for a second.

“…what?” she asked.

“I do not know,” I replied. “I do not understand it either.” She stared at me for a moment before bursting into laughter, loud and uncontrollable.

“You insulted him and now he wants a reassessment?”

“I am suffering,” I said flatly.

“This is romance,” she replied.

“This is confusion,” I corrected.

“He did not fire you,” she pointed out.

“That is professionalism,” I insisted.

“If you say so,” she said with a smirk.

“I am focusing on work,” I said, turning toward my computer. Work was safe. Work made sense. Work did not involve confusing conversations with powerful men who refused to forget embarrassing mistakes. I buried myself in emails, reports, and numbers, forcing my mind to stay focused. For a while, it worked. I answered emails, reviewed documents, and lost myself in tasks that required attention. But eventually, it stopped working because my mind kept drifting back to him. His voice. His eyes.

The way he said, “I do not forget easily.”

I shook my head and typed faster. Focus. I needed to focus. I could not afford distractions, especially not distractions like him. Time passed without me noticing until the office grew quiet. Too quiet. I frowned slightly and reached for my phone. When I saw the time, my eyes widened. It was already past seven in the evening.

“What?” I whispered. How long had I been working? I stood up quickly, stretching my stiff body, realizing that almost everyone had already left.

I packed my things quickly, slinging my bag over my shoulder as I made my way out of the building. The moment I stepped outside, the cool evening air brushed against my face, and I exhaled slowly. Today had been overwhelming. Too much had happened in too little time, and I still had not fully processed any of it. But the day was not over yet. I still had somewhere to go, somewhere I had been trying not to think about. A party.

Annie’s mother’s birthday.

Which meant my father would be there.

His wife would be there.

And her daughter would be there too.

I sighed quietly.

“Of course,” I muttered under my breath. “Why would my day get easier?” Memories began to stir, uncomfortable and painful ones, the kind I tried very hard to avoid. The kind that reminded me that some wounds did not heal no matter how much time passed. I tightened my grip on my bag as I walked toward the road. What was going to happen tonight? Would it be awkward? Would it be tense? Would it turn into another silent battle filled with forced smiles and hidden resentment?

Would my father pretend everything was fine again?

Would his wife give me that fake smile that never reached her eyes?

Would her daughter try to provoke me like she always did?

I exhaled slowly, trying to steady myself.

“I just have to survive it,” I whispered. Survive. That word again. It seemed to define everything in my life lately. First my job, now my family, and somehow, in the middle of all of it, there was still him. Lucas Blake. My boss. The man I paid. The man I insulted. The man who refused to forget.

I shook my head immediately.

“No,” I said firmly. “I am not thinking about him right now.”

Because if today had taught me anything, it was this: my life was already complicated enough, and something deep inside me told me it was only just beginning.