Chapter 4: Public Embarrassment

 (Celeste’s POV)

If there’s one thing I promised myself on my second week at Sterling Enterprise, it’s that I would never embarrass myself in front of Julian Sterling. And yet, here I am, staring at the sleek glass conference table like it just betrayed me.

The morning had started fine. Too fine, actually. My hair was smooth, my black pencil skirt was crisp, and my notes were neatly organized in the leather portfolio I bought just to look more “corporate.” I walked into the conference room ready to present my updates on the venue arrangements for the Sterling Foundation Gala. My mind was on floral centerpieces and budget proposals, not… humiliation.

The boardroom was already filling up when I arrived. Executives in sharp suits, assistants tapping away on tablets, and Julian sitting at the head of the table, as if he was born there. His suit was charcoal gray today, tailored to perfection. The way he sat, one arm resting lazily on the chair’s armrest, screamed authority without even trying.

I took my seat three spots down from him, right next to Greg from PR who always smells like too much cologne. I opened my portfolio and told myself, You’re just here to work. Not to look at him. But of course, my eyes drifted anyway. He was flipping through a folder, jaw tight, eyes scanning like he could burn through paper.

When the meeting began, I felt confident. People were presenting updates, Julian was asking sharp, clipped questions, and I had rehearsed my part enough to deliver it in my sleep.

But then of course it happened.

It was my turn to get up. I stood, holding my notes, and walked toward the projector screen. My heel caught on the leg of the conference table, and in slow motion, I felt myself pitch forward.

There was that horrifying second where your brain hasn’t caught up yet where you think maybe you can recover your balance but no. My portfolio went flying, my pen skittered across the floor, and I stumbled forward, catching myself on the edge of the table with a loud thunk.

A sharp intake of breath swept across the room.

I froze, eyes darting up and found his.

Julian’s gaze was fixed on me, unreadable. Not mocking. Not sympathetic. Just… watching. Like he was cataloging the exact degree of my humiliation for future reference.

Heat flared up my neck. I muttered, “Sorry,” under my breath, bending to scoop up my notes. My hands felt clumsy, almost useless, and of course Greg didn’t move an inch to help.

When I finally straightened, Julian’s eyes were still on me. But there was something else now, something I couldn’t quite read. A flicker of curiosity? Or amusement? Whatever it was, it wasn’t pity and somehow that made it worse.

I turned to the screen and launched into my presentation, voice steadier than I expected. Inside, though, I was dying. Every time I glanced at him purely to gauge his reaction, of course his gaze was still lingering. Calm. Focused. Too focused.

The rest of the room seemed oblivious. They were looking at my slides, nodding, jotting down notes. But Julian? His eyes stayed on me like he was trying to peel away layers.

I sped through my updated venue confirmed, catering locked in, floral arrangements pending budget approval and the moment I finished, I all but bolted back to my seat.

“Efficient,” he said after a pause, voice smooth, deep. “Next.”

That was it. No comment on my stumble. No smirk. No small talk. Just that word, “Efficient.”

And yet, the way his gaze lingered as I sat down made my pulse skip.

The meeting went on, but my mind didn’t. Every time someone else spoke, I kept replaying the scene in my head. Did he think I was clumsy? Did he think I was unprofessional? Or did he find it funny?

When the meeting finally adjourned, people started shuffling out, murmuring to each other. I stayed seated a moment longer, pretending to organize my notes just so I could avoid crossing his path.

But apparently fate had other plans.

“Marshall.”

I froze. That voice low, even, commanding without volume sent an involuntary shiver down my spine.

I looked up. Julian was standing at the far end of the table, hands in his pockets, watching me with that same unreadable expression. The rest of the executives were gone.

“Yes?” My voice came out more breathless than I intended.

His gaze flicked briefly to the table where I’d caught myself earlier. “Watch your step.”

And then he walked past me, just like that.

No smirk. No laugh. No real judgment in his tone. But somehow, the simple remark felt heavier than a lecture.

I sat there for a moment after he left, heart still thudding. My rational brain told me it was nothing, just a throwaway comment. But my instincts said otherwise.

Because the way his eyes lingered before he left… it felt like he wasn’t laughing at me. He was… noticing me.

And that for me was far more dangerous than a little public embarrassment.