Had he searched for her?

~004

Beneath the Surface

---

Bella Bluefield sat on the edge of her bed that night, her blazer hanging off the back of her chair, her heels discarded somewhere under the sheets. The adrenaline of the day had finally worn off, leaving behind a heavy, unspoken weight in her chest.

She still wasn’t sure what had hit her harder—the fact that she had managed to impress one of the most selective hiring panels in Paris, or the way Xavier Louis had walked into the room like a scene from a movie and shattered her sense of reality.

She’d hoped it was a coincidence. She’d prayed.

But that smile… that exact, knowing smile… said otherwise.

Xavier Louis, the man who had touched her like he already owned every inch of her body, who had whispered things in the dark that still echoed in her bones—he knew. He remembered. And he wasn’t pretending otherwise.

Bella ran her fingers through her curls and exhaled sharply.

What exactly was going on?

She hadn’t given him her number. She hadn’t stayed behind to chat or flirt. If anything, she’d made it perfectly clear when she walked away that night that there were no strings attached. But apparently, Xavier hadn’t agreed with her silent terms.

Had he searched for her?

Had he arranged the interview?

And if he had… why?

She pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them like she used to as a girl when the world felt too big. She was grateful for the opportunity—of course she was. But now it felt tainted. Like something she hadn’t fully earned.

Did she even want to work at LV Groups if it meant being a pawn in someone’s private obsession?

But then she remembered how it felt—sitting in that glass-walled conference room, explaining her sketches and talking about her process. She remembered the thrill in Clara’s eyes when she said, “You don’t design to win—you design because you can’t help it.”

That part had been real. She had been real.

And she wasn’t going to let one powerful man take that away from her.

If Xavier thought she was someone he could manipulate, he was in for a surprise.

---

Across the city, Xavier stood in his private study, a fire low in the grate even though the night was warm. He held a glass of wine in his hand, though he hadn’t taken a sip in nearly twenty minutes.

His mind was on her.

Bella Bluefield.

He hadn’t expected her to be exactly as he remembered. He hadn’t expected her to look so startled either, like she’d seen a ghost—and yet still hold herself with that same quiet fire he’d found so irresistible.

He had watched the interview from the security feed in the adjacent room. He hadn’t planned to walk in, but when Clara complimented Bella’s strength of purpose, something inside him stirred, and he moved before he could stop himself.

He wanted her to see him. To know.

And she had.

Her reaction had been perfect. Controlled. Composed. But her eyes—those betrayed her. And he saw it clearly: confusion, defiance, curiosity… fear.

He didn’t like the fear.

Xavier turned from the fire and crossed the room to his desk. Her resume lay open in front of him, along with her portfolio. He flipped through the pages again—not because he needed to, but because each sketch reminded him of something she’d said that night between tangled sheets and whispered breaths.

“You can tell a lot about a person from how they draw fabric,” she’d said, half-teasing, half-serious.

“You think you’ve figured me out?” he had murmured into her ear.

“No,” she had whispered back. “But I’m good at learning things quickly.”

Xavier smiled slightly at the memory. She was different. She wasn’t impressed by money or power. She didn’t chase status. That was part of why he hadn’t been able to forget her.

But now she was in his world. Officially.

Clara’s recommendation had sealed the offer. Bella would begin her trial week as a junior consultant starting Monday. And Xavier would play the long game. Carefully. Strategically.

He didn’t want to scare her off. He didn’t want her to feel used.

But he did want her close.

Close enough to remind him why—for the first time in years—he wasn’t bored.

---

Monday arrived too quickly.

Bella stood in the LV Groups elevator, dressed in a slate-grey wrap dress, her work tablet clutched tightly against her chest. She had barely slept. The week ahead felt like stepping into enemy territory—except the enemy didn’t want to destroy her.

He wanted to own her.

“Eighteenth floor,” the elevator voice chimed.

She inhaled sharply and stepped out.

Clara greeted her with a warm smile and a short tour, showing her the shared creative space, the café, and her temporary desk. Bella pretended like everything was fine. That her pulse wasn’t quickening every time someone said the name “Xavier.”

He didn’t show himself that morning. Not in meetings. Not in corridors. And Bella started to relax—just a little. Maybe he was going to keep his distance. Maybe she was wrong about his involvement.

But after lunch, a ping on her work tablet shattered that illusion.

> From: Executive Office

To: Bella Bluefield

Please deliver the new textile sample drafts to Mr. Louis’s office by 2:00 PM.

Bella stared at the screen. Her fingers tightened around the tablet.

This couldn’t be random.

She glanced at the time. 1:47 PM.

With no choice, she picked up the fabric samples and the draft sheets she had been reviewing and headed toward the top floor.

Each step echoed like a warning in her head.

---

Xavier’s assistant, Miriam, greeted her with a tight-lipped smile.

“He’s expecting you,” she said simply.

Bella knocked once, then stepped into his office.

It was a cathedral of glass and steel—tall windows, a panoramic view of the city, and a massive black desk that looked more like a throne than furniture.

And there he was.

Leaning back in his chair, fingers steepled, eyes unreadable.

“Miss Bluefield,” he said calmly. “We meet again.”

Bella straightened her shoulders. “I brought the drafts. As requested.”

He didn’t respond right away. Just looked at her. Studied her.

“You surprised me,” he said finally. “At the interview. I didn’t expect you to be that good.”

She raised a brow. “Good enough to earn the job… or good enough to be worth manipulating?”

A faint smile touched his lips. “Both.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

“I don’t need your charity,” she said quietly. “If I’m here, it’s because I deserve it. Not because of a night that should’ve stayed in the past.”

He stood slowly and walked toward her, closing the space between them like a predator—but there was no threat in his eyes. Only hunger. And something else. Something wounded.

“I never wanted it to stay in the past,” he said.

And just like that, the air between them turned electric again.