Proximity
1103 Words
I didn’t sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes, the elevator doors slid shut again.
Every time, my phone vibrated in my hand.
The real danger is why he hired you.
I stared at the ceiling until dawn bled through the thin curtains of my apartment, the cracked plaster above me looking more fractured than usual. I replayed every moment since my interview—every question Nathaniel Blackwood had asked, every silence he’d let stretch just long enough to unsettle me.
Why had he hired me?
By the time I got ready for work, I’d convinced myself of one thing: paranoia was useless. Whatever game was being played, fear would only make me sloppy.
And sloppy was something Nathaniel Blackwood did not tolerate.
I arrived earlier than usual, the building still half-asleep. Amelia’s desk light was on, her expression unreadable as always.
“You look tired,” she said.
“I’m fine.”
She studied me for a second longer than necessary. “You go somewhere with him yesterday?”
The question hit too close.
“Work-related,” I said evenly.
Her lips pressed together. “That’s what they all say.”
Before I could ask what she meant, Nathaniel’s office door opened.
“Miss Carter,” he said. “Inside.”
I followed him in, pulse steady despite everything.
He was already reviewing documents, jacket off, sleeves rolled just enough to suggest control rather than comfort. He didn’t mention yesterday. Didn’t acknowledge the penthouse. Didn’t acknowledge the tension still humming beneath my skin.
“You received the itinerary for tomorrow,” he said.
“Yes,” I replied. “Two days. Out of the city.”
“Good. You’ll finalize logistics today.”
I hesitated. “Sir… may I ask a question?”
He looked up slowly. “You just did.”
I swallowed. “Why me?”
The room went still.
“Clarify,” he said.
“Why take me on this trip?” I continued. “You have senior assistants. People with years of experience.”
His gaze didn’t waver. “And yet you’re the one asking the right questions.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No,” he agreed. “It’s the truth.”
I held his stare, refusing to look away.
“You don’t flinch,” he continued. “You don’t perform. You don’t pretend you’re something you’re not.”
He stood, moving around the desk, stopping a safe distance away.
“And most importantly,” he said quietly, “you haven’t tried to use me.”
The words landed harder than I expected.
“I’m not interested in power games,” I said.
A corner of his mouth twitched. “Everyone is. Some just don’t know it yet.”
The rest of the morning was relentless. Calls. Revisions. Pressure layered on pressure. I worked without pause, forcing my mind to stay sharp, refusing to think about the anonymous messages burning holes in my pocket.
Until my phone buzzed again.
Unknown Number: Did he tell you about her?
My breath hitched.
I didn’t respond.
Another buzz followed almost immediately.
Unknown Number: He won’t. He never does.
I locked my screen, hands trembling just slightly.
Nathaniel noticed.
“You’re distracted,” he said.
“I’m fine,” I replied too quickly.
He didn’t push—but the silence that followed was worse.
At noon, he closed his laptop. “Lunch.”
“I already ate,” I said.
“That wasn’t a question.”
The restaurant was quiet, discreet, clearly chosen for privacy rather than atmosphere. We sat across from each other, the table wide enough to feel safe and yet not wide enough.
“You don’t eat when you’re anxious,” he observed.
I stiffened. “I’m not anxious.”
“Lying is another thing you’re bad at,” he said calmly.
I exhaled slowly. “Someone has been messaging me.”
That got his full attention.
“When?”
“Since last night.”
“What did they say?”
I hesitated. “They implied you hired me for reasons beyond my qualifications.”
His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
“Did they threaten you?”
“No.”
“Did they ask for anything?”
“No.”
“Then ignore them.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It is,” he said firmly. “Whoever it is wants to destabilize you. Fear makes people careless.”
“Is that experience talking?” I asked before I could stop myself.
His eyes darkened.
“Yes,” he said. “It is.”
We didn’t speak again until the check arrived.
Back at the office, preparations for the trip consumed the rest of the day. Hotel bookings. Security clearances. Confidential briefings. Everything pointed to this being more than a routine business visit.
By evening, the building had emptied again.
“You’re staying late,” Nathaniel said.
“So are you.”
He regarded me for a moment. “Pack light. We leave at six.”
“Yes, sir.”
As I gathered my things, my phone buzzed one last time.
Unknown Number: If you go with him, you won’t be able to pretend anymore.
I deleted the message.
But the words stayed.
The next morning, the city was still dark when I met him at the private terminal. He was already there, composed as ever, coat perfectly tailored, presence commanding even in silence.
“You ready?” he asked.
“Yes.”
That was a lie.
The jet was smaller than I expected. Intimate. No unnecessary staff. Just us.
As the plane lifted into the sky, something in my chest tightened—not fear exactly, but the awareness of distance growing between me and everything familiar.
Nathaniel reviewed documents while I organized notes, the quiet punctuated only by the hum of the engines.
“Carter,” he said suddenly.
“Yes?”
“You trust me?”
The question caught me off guard.
“I trust your professionalism,” I said carefully.
He studied me. “That’s not what I asked.”
I looked out the window, clouds stretching endlessly below.
“I don’t know you well enough to trust you,” I said finally. “But I don’t think you’re careless.”
A pause.
“That will have to do,” he said.
The plane began its descent.
Whatever waited on the ground, I knew one thing with chilling certainty:
Distance wasn’t creating space between us.
It was stripping away excuses.
And somewhere between anonymous warnings and unasked questions, the lines I’d sworn to protect were no longer just blurring.
They were moving.
- Writer
