Chapter 5

Elena POV 

I barely sleep.

Every time I close my eyes, I see the bar, I see julian’s face.

The way he stood at my table like he owned the ground beneath us, the way he said my name, low and demanding, the way I turned him down.

My heart jumps every time I remember it, a mix of pride and fear.

Because I something in my mind tells me Julian Stone isn’t the type of man who forgets things easily.

Especially not defiance.

Especially not mine.

When my alarm rings, I sit on my bed for a long moment, my hands pressed to my face.

“Just survive today,” I whisper to myself.

I get dressed, fix my hair, and go to work like I didn’t challenge a man who could destroy me with a sentence.

At work, the lobby feels colder this morning.

Maybe it’s me.

Maybe it’s the dread crawling up my spine.

When I take the elevator to the last floor, my palms are already sweating.

I reach my desk and sit down carefully, placing my bag beside me.

His office door is closed.

Good.

Maybe he’s not in yet.

I turn on my computer and try to breathe normally, but the memory of last night sits heavy on my chest like a weight. I can still see the way he looked at me when I told him no, like no one had ever said it to him before..

I take a deep breath and start checking emails, burying myself in work.

Minutes pass.

Then an hour.

His door stays closed.

He haven't call for me, he haven't send an email, he haven't even step out.

It should make me relieved. Instead, it twists my stomach into knots.

The silence feels sharp, punishing and intentional.

Every time the elevator dings, I look up, thinking it’s him.

Every time it isn’t, I sink a little deeper into my chair.

By 10 a.m., everyone in the office is in full work mode, typing, chatting, moving around with coffee cups.

Julian’s office stays quiet.

But I know he's in there.

I get up to refill my water bottle, and Mila from yesterday spots me and came to stand beside me.

“Hey, Elena,” she greeted, smiling “Rough morning?”

“You have no idea,” I murmur.

“Boss trouble already?” she laughs lightly.

I force a smile, but it probably looks strained, if only she knew.

When I return to my desk, I try to focus again but focus is impossible, my mind keeps replaying the moment I refused him last night.

God.

Why did I say that?, why did I challenge him?, why do I feel guilty?

I shake my head, pressing my fingers to my temples.

At noon, the phone on my desk rings, I freeze, then I picked it up and answered 

“Elena.” His voice came through the phone, low and calm.

My stomach drops.

“Yes?” I answered, my voice barely steady.

“Come to my office.”

My throat goes dry immediately.

“Now.”

I stand on legs that feel like they belong to someone else.

The walk to his office is maybe four steps, but it feels like a mile.

I knock once when I get to the door

“Come in.”

I push the door open.

He’s standing by the window, hands in his pockets, shoulders straight, suit perfect.

“Close the door.”

I do, the click echoes loudly.

He doesn’t turn around at first.

He stands there, looking out over the city, silent.

So silent I can hear my own heartbeat.

Then he speaks.

“You were bold last night.”

Bold.

He says it like it’s a warning, not a compliment.

I swallow. “I was having a conversation with my friends.”

He turns.

And when his eyes meet mine, I forget how to breathe.

They’re calm.

Too calm.

A mask he’s chosen to wear today.

“You told me no,” he says simply.

“Yes,” I whisper.

He studies me like he’s reading every reaction, every breath.

Then he looks down at his desk, picks up a folder, and hands it to me.

“We’re leaving in twenty minutes.”

I blink. “Leaving?” I asked, confused

“For a client meeting.”

“But I wasn’t scheduled to....”

“I changed the schedule.” he said cutting me short, the tone he used means it final, no room to refuse.

My heart thumps painfully.

“Understood?” he asks.

I nod.

He steps around me, reaching for his jacket, as he passes, the faint smell of his cologne hits me.

My chest tightens.

He opens the door for himself but pauses.

Without looking at me he says:

“And Elena?”

“Yes?”

His jaw clenches slightly.

“ Be at your best behavior” he say, 

Heat rushes to my cheeks.

“I will ” I whisper.

He walks out and I stand there, shaking.

On the way to the meeting, we sit quietly in the backseat of his car.

He sit next to me scrolling through his phone like I'm not even there, his expression unreadable.

I stare out the window, pretending to be just as composed, but my fingers twitch against my skirt.  

But every now and then, I see his reflection in the window.

Looking at me.  

And each time, he glances away the second our eyes almost meet.  

The meeting itself is long and painfully formal.

Julian sits tall, composed, speaking in his smooth, controlled voice.

He signs papers, shakes hands, gives direct instructions, acting like I wasn't there.

Like we didn't spend one night together.

But I see it.

Small signs.

The way his fingers drum when someone sits too close to me.

The way his jaw tightens when I lean forward to pass him a document.

The way his eyes flick to me every time someone addresses me.

He can pretend all he wants, he didn’t forget, he can’t forget.

When the meeting ends, we step into the hallway and take the elevator down.

As the doors slide shut, my lungs tighten.

He stands in front of me, his hands back in his pockets, his shoulders tense.

The air in the elevator feels thick.

He looks straight ahead, then finally looks at me.

“What you did last night” he says quietly, “cannot happen again.”

My fingers curl at my side.

“It won’t,” I say softly.

His eyes hold mine, too long and too intense

“You told me to forget you,” I whisper, unable to stop myself.

A small, sharp breath escapes him, almost like I hit something sensitive.

“I didn’t say I would forget you,” he replies.

My heart stutters.

Then the elevator dings.

He steps out first but I stay frozen inside the elevator, feeling everything inside me twist at once.

Back at the office, the rest of the day passes in a blur.

Julian doesn’t speak to me again, or call for me.

At 5 p.m., Mila stops by my desk.

“You okay?” she asks gently.

I nod, even though I'm not.

She gives a supportive smile before heading out.

I pack my things slowly.

When I finally stand, the door to his office opens.

My heart jumps as he steps out. For a moment, we’re alone.

He looks at me.

His green eyes don’t match the calm expression on his face.

They’re darker, warmer, almost conflict

ed.

“Good night, Elena,” he says quietly.

My breath hitches.

“Good night, Mr. Stone.”

He walks away, disappearing into the elevator.

The doors slide close.

And I’m left standing there, every nerve in my body buzzing, every emotion tangled.

He wants distance, he wants control, he wants me to forget.

But he can’t stay away.

And I don’t know how much longer I can pretend that I can.