Chapter Six
765 Words
The office felt different ever since he walked in.
Everyone dressed sharply, spoke more softly, and worked faster. It was like the air itself had changed, thicker and heavier. People smiled too widely, especially the female workers, whenever he passed, eager to impress.
I tried to keep my head down, blending into the background. But it was impossible to forget he was here. His presence lingered like a shadow, even when I wasn’t looking at him. Especially then.
That morning, we were called into a full staff meeting. The big conference room buzzed with nervous energy. People shuffled papers, whispered, and straightened their ties.
I slipped into a seat near the back, hoping to stay invisible.
He walked in a few minutes later, tall and composed, the kind of man who didn’t need to demand attention, he already had it. His gaze swept the room, calm but sharp, before he started talking about the company’s new direction.
I tried to focus on the slides, the numbers, anything but him.
And then….
“Miss Bennett.”
My heart stopped.
Dozens of heads turned toward me.
He stood at the front, his eyes fixed on mine.
“Perhaps you can share your thoughts on the figures we’ve just discussed?”
My mouth went dry. I hadn’t been listening. Not really. I was too busy trying not to think about him, about that night.
“I…..” I stammered.
The silence stretched. Someone coughed. My face burned.
Then something inside me snapped. I straightened my shoulders and forced myself to look at the screen, at the numbers highlighted in red. I swallowed hard and spoke.
“The figures show growth, yes. But it’s not sustainable if we don’t address the client retention rate. Last quarter we lost more accounts than we gained. Unless we fix that, all this is just temporary.”
The room went quiet again but different this time.
He tilted his head slightly, studying me. For a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of approval in his eyes.
“Interesting,” he said, his voice smooth. “That’s a point most people would’ve overlooked.”
Relief flooded me, but it was short-lived.
“Which is why,” he continued, “you’ll be preparing a detailed report on retention strategies by the end of the week.”
My stomach dropped. “Me?”
“Yes,” he said simply, moving on without giving me a chance to argue.
The meeting continued, but I barely heard a word.
By the time it ended, people were whispering as they filed out. Some looked impressed, others envious. Tessa nudged me as we walked back to our desks.
“Girl,” she whispered, eyes wide. “The new CEO just put you in the spotlight. Do you know what that means?”
“Yes,” I muttered, sinking into my chair. “It means I’m doomed.”
But deep down, I wasn’t sure if it was doom or something far more dangerous.
***************
The office was nearly empty by the time I finished the mountain of work piled on my desk. Tessa had left hours ago, insisting I text her when I got home.
I was gathering my things when I heard footsteps behind me.
“Still here?”
His voice froze me in place.
I turned slowly. He was leaning against the doorway, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, looking like he owned not just the office, but the entire world.
“I had work to finish,” I said quickly, clutching my bag.
He stepped closer, his gaze steady, unreadable.
“Ambitious. I like that.”
I swallowed hard. “I didn’t do it to impress you.”
“Didn’t you?” His tone was soft, almost amused.
Heat crept up my neck. I looked away. “I don’t need to impress anyone. I just want to keep my job.”
Silence stretched. Then he moved even closer, close enough that I could catch the faintest trace of his cologne. My heart thudded against my ribs.
“Relax, Miss Bennett,” he said quietly. “I’m not going to fire you. Not yet.”
The way he said it sent a shiver down my spine.
I forced myself to meet his eyes. “Then what do you want from me?”
His gaze lingered on mine, sharp and unreadable. Finally, he smiled faintly, almost like he was enjoying my discomfort.
“You’ll figure it out,” he murmured.
Then he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, shaken, my heart pounding too loudly in the empty office.
- Writer
