Working With My Ex Again

The revolving door spat her out and Isla walked straight into the cold like it owed her nothing. It slipped beneath her coat, brushed against her skin, and for a brief second, it felt like something real, something she could focus on instead of the echo still ringing in her head.Your role as my personal assistant remains effective as of Monday.Her steps didn’t falter.Not once.But her grip tightened slightly around her bag, fingers pressing into the leather like she needed something solid, something that wouldn’t shift beneath her.Assistant.The word didn’t sit right. It lingered reminding her quietly that whatever she had just signed in that office… hadn’t set her free.Not completely.Isla exhaled slowly, steadying herself before the feeling could settle too deep.Freedom was never going to be that easy.She was three steps toward the parking structure when she heard her name."Iz."She turned.Nathaniel Rivers was jogging toward her from the side entrance, jacket open, tie loos

"Good morning… Ms. Mercer."The hesitation came before her name.Isla paused just long enough to acknowledge it, then turned her head slightly toward the reception desk. Clara sat behind it, posture straight, smile polite, but not quite steady. The kind of smile people wore when they weren’t sure what version of you they were supposed to address."Good morning, Clara."There was a brief silence.Clara adjusted a file on her desk, then looked back up, curiosity slipping through professionalism."So… you’re back?"The question was careful, almost respectful, but it still carried weight.Isla held her gaze for a moment."Was I expected not to be?"Clara blinked, clearly not prepared for that answer. "I just...well, after everything, I thought...""You thought wrong," Isla said gently.Not sharp. Not rude.Just… final.She didn’t wait for a response.She turned and walked toward the elevators, the quiet murmur of the lobby settling behind her like something unfinished.She wore black.Not

"Why was this not sent" A voice cut through the glass wall of Isla's office. Her ears perked up to hear what was being said."I... Forwarded it." Another voice, no doubt a junior staff shakily said. "I'm sure I did..." She said frantically tapping on the laptop as if it would magically show that she indeed sent the message."Yet, you didn't..." The senior staff gritted her teeth.Isla stood up from her seat arranging her dress as she went over to the other side of the floor to make some coffee."I did it. I sent it..." She said wishing desperately for the senior staff to believe her."Somehow, the mail you said you sent didn't actually send or someone manipulated. How do you explain that a very important mail that was supposed to be sent wasn't" She said anger mixed with disdain filling her voice."I... I...." She stammered when she was interrupted again."Do you know the gravity of what you just did. We could miss a major business deal just because you're sure of sending a mail, whic

"Ms. Mercer."The doorway was very quiet.Nate had stopped laughing entirely. He was now standing slightly to the side with the energy of a man who had decided he was not involved in whatever was about to happen.Smart man.Darian stepped into her office. Unhurried. Like he had all the time in the world and fully intended to use it. He stopped at the edge of her desk and looked down at her with an expression she couldn't read, which was, she was learning, his most dangerous setting."Finish what you were saying," he said.Isla held his gaze. "I was just...""The chipmunk analogy." His voice was completely even. "Finish it."The silence stretched.Nate made a sound that was almost a cough."I don't think that's necessary," Isla said carefully."No." Darian tilted his head slightly. "I don't think it is either." He pulled out the chair across from her desk, her guest chair, in her office and sat down like he owned it. Which, technically, he did. "I think what's necessary is a written ap

"If you're here to laugh at me, then you should probably go."Nate was trying to contain his laughter."Then why are you here, shouldn't you be enjoying the comfort of your bed?""I will soon but I brought you something." He held up a paper bag. Something from the deli two blocks down by the smell of it.Isla looked at the bag and then at him. "He'll see.""He's in a call until two.""Nate...""It's a sandwich, Isla. Not a crime."She hesitated for exactly three seconds. Her stomach, a traitor, made its position known again.She reached for the bag.Nate smiled, relieved, warm, pleased with himself."Don't tell him," she said."Obviously."He turned to leave.And walked directly into Darian standing in the corridor.The two men looked at each other.Nate held up both hands slowly. "I was just...""Do you want to work overtime with her, Nate" He asked emphasizing on his name."She hasn't eaten since..""Nate."The way he said it, quiet, final, the kind of tone that didn't repeat itself