Chapter 5: Quiet Support

(Celeste POV)

The soft hum of the office copier filled the silence of the break room as I stood there, holding my mug like it was the only thing keeping me from unraveling. The steam curled upward, fogging my vision for a moment before disappearing into the air. My hands still trembled slightly, a side effect of the adrenaline that had pumped through me all morning. Yesterday’s incident at the meeting was still replaying in my head like a bad home video me tripping in front of everyone, papers scattering like leaves, my cheeks burning while every pair of eyes tracked my humiliation. And then Julian Sterling, with that unreadable, too-sharp gaze, just… staring.

Not saying anything. Not helping. Just watching.

I told myself I didn’t care. I told myself his opinion didn’t matter. But it did.

I was halfway through my first sip of coffee when Marcus stepped into the room. He wasn’t dressed as sharply as Julian, but his navy suit looked comfortable, like he knew he didn’t have to overcompensate. Marcus was the kind of guy who could blend into the background yet still have everyone in the room respect him when he spoke.

“Morning,” he said, his voice calm, as if my entire week hadn’t been a public performance of “new girl messes up.”

“Morning,” I replied, keeping my tone neutral.

He leaned casually against the counter, glancing at me. “Rough day yesterday?”

I almost laughed, but it came out more like a breathy scoff. “That obvious?”

“Only to people who were paying attention.” He reached for the sugar, stirring it into his coffee with slow, unhurried movements. “You handled it fine. Could’ve been worse.”

I raised a brow. “Really? How?”

“Well,” he said, tilting his head thoughtfully, “you could’ve spilled hot coffee on Sterling. Or called him ‘Julian’ in front of the board. Or-”

“Okay, okay,” I interrupted, trying not to smile. “Point taken.”

He smirked, but there was something softer in his gaze. “Don’t let it mess with you too much. Sterling’s… particular. He notices everything. But that doesn’t mean he’s judging you.”

I resisted the urge to say I think it does. Instead, I sipped my coffee again, trying to draw some kind of strength from the bitter taste.

The truth was, Marcus had been subtly supportive since my first day here no loud encouragement or exaggerated gestures but he always seemed to be around when I needed a hand. Yesterday, after the meeting, I’d found my scattered papers neatly stacked on my desk, a sticky note on top: All in one piece now. No signature, but I knew it was him.

It wasn’t lost on me that in this place, quiet allies were worth more than public champions.

Before I could thank him for that note, the break room door opened again and Emma walked in, her heels tapping against the tile floor. She was tall, sleek, and carried herself like she’d been born knowing exactly how to navigate rooms like this. Her hair was pulled back into a low bun, her lipstick a perfect muted rose.

“Celeste,” she greeted, her voice polite but edged with something I couldn’t quite place.

“Hey,” I said, smiling faintly.

Emma poured herself a cup of coffee, adding cream without looking at either of us. Then she turned her attention to me fully, like she’d been waiting for the right moment.

“I heard about yesterday,” she said. Not unkindly, but not exactly warmly either. “You okay?”

I shrugged, trying to appear unfazed. “I’ll live.”

Her lips curved slightly. “Good. But… word of advice? Be careful around Sterling.”

Marcus glanced at her over his mug, but said nothing.

I blinked. “Careful?”

Emma leaned one hip against the counter, her gaze steady. “He’s not the type to forgive mistakes easily. Especially from people he doesn’t know well. And… he has a history.”

I felt my curiosity spark despite myself. “What kind of history?”

Emma hesitated, as if weighing whether she should tell me. “Professional and personal lines tend to blur with him. He’s had… relationships in the workplace before. Not many, but enough that people notice. When things end, they don’t usually end well.”

I swallowed. “You’re saying he’s… dangerous?”

“Not dangerous,” she said carefully. “But complicated. And complications are the last thing you need when you’re still trying to prove yourself.”

Her words lingered in the air, heavy with implication. I wanted to dismiss them, to say I wasn’t the type to get involved with someone like Julian Sterling. But the truth was, he already occupied too much space in my head.

Marcus finally spoke, his tone measured. “Emma’s not wrong. Just… stay focused on the job. That’s the safest route.”

I nodded slowly, though a part of me bristled at the idea that I couldn’t handle myself. Still, I appreciated that they cared enough to say something, even if it felt like a warning about a storm I hadn’t planned to walk into.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of event schedules, vendor calls, and budget spreadsheets. Every so often, I’d feel Julian’s presence not literally, but like a phantom in the back of my mind. It was ridiculous. I didn’t even see him that much today, just in passing, his stride purposeful, his expression unreadable as always.

But when our eyes met briefly in the hallway, I swore there was the faintest flicker of something recognition, maybe even curiosity before he looked away.

By the time I packed up to leave, Marcus was also at the elevator.

“You survived another day,” he said lightly.

“Barely,” I replied with a tired smile.

He pressed the button, and the doors slid open. As we stepped inside, I glanced at him. “Thanks for… you know. Having my back.”

His mouth curved into that understated smile again. “Always.”

And for the first time in days, I felt like maybe just maybe I could handle whatever was coming next