The Promotion No One Asked For

The Promotion No One Asked For

AVA’S shock was instant and explosive, Elena saw it in the way her perfectly arched brows shot up, the way her lips parted in disbelief. But what stunned her even more was the fact that Eamon didn’t flinch. He stood there, arms folded across his chest, answering in a tone so cold and sharp it could slice glass.

Elena found herself thinking, ‘How many different versions of this man exist?’ Every stance, every expression, every way he positioned his arms seemed to belong to a different person— no, a different creature.

“Mm. Got yourself a new pet?” Ava sneered, head tilting as her eyes raked over Elena with mocking disgust. “Or should I say… an old cargo?” She exaggerated the phrase, making sure the insult landed. “Since when does a clerk get benefits like that?”

Elena’s cheeks burned, but before she could speak, Eamon answered.

“You are right. She is no longer a clerk.”

He paused, eyes locking on Elena like he was tattooing his will onto her skin.

“From today, Elena is my…” another pause, deliberate and unsettling—

“…financial director.”

The room froze.

Ava gasped, loud, sharp and wounded.

Elena felt the ground shift beneath her feet.

Then Ava moved— fast. She stormed up to him and grabbed him by the jacket, yanking him so harshly his folded arms dropped to his sides. His dress shirt rumpled under her grip, and Elena swore she saw a faint smile of disbelief, almost pride, flicker on Ava’s face.

“That’s my position,” she hissed in a near whisper.

“Not anymore,” Eamon replied calmly.

Ava’s hands lingered on his chest, brushing the fabric like she was smoothing it— but it was too familiar, too intimate. And it now irritated him.

“Hands off, Ava.”

The command was quiet. Dangerous. She wasn't expecting it. Her hands dropped instantly.

Then his voice turned flat again.

“Give her the keys to the company car and the corporate gold card.”

Elena wanted to scream ‘WHAT?!’ But instead she sat rooted to the spot, eyes lowering as her fingers scratched her temple in helpless confusion.

‘What is this devil doing now?’

Ava, however, reacted exactly as expected.

“What!” she snapped. “No— no, it can’t be. I’m—”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” His voice cut through the air like a blade.

Ava stopped. The argument died in her throat.

She plastered on a rigid smile— the kind that hurt to hold— and turned to Elena.

“Congrats on your promotion,” she muttered tightly, then stormed out of the office.

The moment the door closed, Elena exhaled sharply and stood from the chair, disbelief written all over her face.

“Why?” she asked, shaking her head. “I don’t understand. Why do you—”

“It’s not for you to decide,” he interrupted, stepping closer, his hands sliding lazily into his pockets. “But for me.”

Her lashes fluttered— annoyance, confusion, exhaustion all tangled together.

“In this company, my words are final.”

A beat.

“And that applies to your life… now… too.”

She didn’t flinch this time. Didn’t gasp. Didn’t tremble.

Something inside her had simply… clicked. She was done reacting to him.

She said nothing.

His eyes narrowed slightly, maybe displeased, maybe intrigued.

“Go down to the car,” he ordered. “And wait for me there.”

But she didn’t move. Didn’t obey. Didn’t even blink.

Their eyes locked in a silent battle, her defiance simmering, his authority pressing down like invisible weight.

“Do it.”

This time the command held teeth.

And finally, she turned and walked away— slow, controlled steps— feeling his gaze burning into her back until the door closed behind her.

***

Elena stepped into the parking lot with her heart still thundering from everything that had just unfolded upstairs. She half‑expected Ava to be gone— vanished in a cloud of indignation and broken pride. But no. Ava stood right beside the sleek company car, arms folded, chin lifted, wearing a smile that was anything but kind.

“Here,” Ava said, dangling the car keys between two fingers.

Elena reached for them— only for Ava to release her grip at the last second.

The keys clattered loudly against the pavement.

“Oops,” Ava said sweetly.

Elena swallowed her irritation, bent down, picked up the keys, and as she stood up… froze.

Her breath caught.

Scratched into the paint of the pristine white company car were two words, dug in with something sharp and vicious:

**OLD CARGO**

The letters were jagged, ugly, raw— just like the insult.

Elena felt her stomach drop.

“What is your price, old lady?” Ava asked, pulling the corporate gold card from under her dress, sliding it out from where it had been tucked near her chest.

Elena blinked, still staring at the vandalized car. She shook her head. 

“You should know that I… I didn’t want any of this.” Her voice was small, fragile, not addressing Ava but trying to convince herself.

Ava snorted.

“Come on. He clearly swiped his card on you.”

She raised the gold card and sliced it dramatically across her (Elena) neck. “More than once. Like this.”

Elena gasped, mortified and speechless.

Just then, Eamon strode into the parking lot, adjusting the buttons of his dark jacket. His expression was unreadable, but his timing was unnervingly perfect.

Both women turned to face him.

He stopped beside them. 

“You should wear long‑sleeved sweaters, Ava.”

Ava blinked. “What?”

“I doubt anyone would like to see so many scars on your body,” he said, voice cool as midnight.

Elena’s brows knit together— scars? She looked down on Ava skin, searching for one.

Then, a sharp sound. A slicing sound. Coming from her left arm.

She stared at it, her breath hitching. Something stung beneath Ava's sleeve.

Slowly, trembling, she pushed the fabric up, and the breath whooshed out of her lungs as she stared in horror.

Carved into her skin, fresh and rising in angry red welts, was the same phrase:

**OLD CARGO**

Her knees nearly buckled.

“How—?” Ava choked out, stumbling back as if Elena had turned into something monstrous. “How did you do that?”

“I— Ava, that wasn’t me! I swear!” Elena reached out, desperate, but Ava backed away even further, eyes wide with something between fear and disgust before she spun on her heel and hurried off.

Elena made to go after her, but Eamon stepped in front of her, blocking her path with absolute authority.

“Get in the car,” he said.

Her chest rose and fell sharply. 

“Wh… where are we going?”

“To lunch,” he replied casually.

Then, with the faintest curl of his lip:

“And pray it isn’t you on the menu.”

Elena froze. Her entire spine went cold.

“No. You can’t… you can’t do that,” she whispered, panic cracking her voice.

He leaned in, eyes glinting with dark amusement.

“Believe me,” he murmured, “I will find a way to feast on you without touching.”

Her eyes fluttered, heart hammering. 

“Yeah. Don’t even… dream about that, Count Dracula,” she stuttered.

He stepped closer, too close that his breath brushed her ear as he whispered:

“Go to the car… or I will have you. With chopsticks. And teriyaki sauce.”

Elena gasped louder this time.

And she ran. Sprinting straight into the passenger seat without looking back.