Lions Den
1137 Words
The office never quite relaxed after the news spread that Liam Hale was in the building.
Even the air felt tighter.
Conversations ended the moment footsteps approached. Laughter was swallowed almost as quickly as it escaped. Phones rang, keyboards clicked, printers hummed but beneath it all was a tension Hazel couldn't quite explain.
She kept her head down.
It wasn't difficult.
Every time she looked up, she expected to see Oliver.
She wasn't ready for that.
Not after yesterday.
Not after crying in front of half the department.
She focused on the stack of invoices in front of her instead, carefully arranging them into neat piles. If she stayed busy enough, maybe the day would pass without another humiliation.
Hazel looked up.
Debbie dropped into the chair beside her desk, coffee in one hand and a croissant in the other.
"You look like you didn't sleep."
Hazel forced a smile.
"I slept."
Debbie raised an eyebrow.
"You blinked with your eyes closed. That's different."
Despite herself, Hazel laughed quietly.
"I'll survive."
"I hope so."
Debbie's expression softened before she leaned closer.
"And stay out of Oliver Hale's way today."
Hazel's smile faded.
"I plan to."
As if summoned by the mention of his name, movement stirred near the executive offices.
Oliver.
He emerged with two department heads beside him, dressed in another perfectly tailored suit, discussing something without sparing a glance toward the employees.
Hazel's stomach tightened.
Instinctively, she lowered her head.
The sound of polished shoes faded as he disappeared around the corner.
Only then did she breathe again.
Debbie noticed.
"You really are avoiding him."
Hazel let out a humorless laugh.
"Wouldn't you?"
Before Debbie could answer, the department manager stepped out of her office carrying a sealed navy-blue folder.
"I need someone to deliver the weekly executive briefing upstairs."
Silence.
Not one person volunteered.
Someone suddenly became very interested in the documents on their desk.
Another employee busied himself with a printer that wasn't even turned on.
Hazel frowned.
It was only a delivery.
She glanced toward the corridor Oliver had disappeared into.
If she stayed on this floor...
there was every chance she'd run into him again.
Her fingers tightened around the edge of her desk.
"I'll take it."
The words escaped before she could reconsider them.
The entire department looked at her.
Debbie's eyes widened.
"...Hazel."
"It's alright."
"No," Debbie whispered. "It isn't."
The manager, however, looked relieved.
"Good."
She handed Hazel the folder.
"Executive Chairman's Office. Don't wander. Deliver it and leave."
Hazel nodded, still confused by everyone's reaction.
"It'll only take a minute."
No one answered.
The executive floor was nothing like the rest of the building.
It was quieter.
Cleaner.
The walls were darker, decorated with expensive artwork she didn't dare stare at for too long.
Even the carpet softened her footsteps until it felt like she wasn't walking at all.
The receptionist glanced at the folder in Hazel's hands before picking up the phone.
"The weekly briefing has arrived, sir."
A pause.
Then she nodded.
"You may go in."
Hazel swallowed.
She adjusted the folder against her chest and knocked gently.
No response.
She knocked again.
Still nothing.
The receptionist smiled politely.
"Go ahead."
Hazel pushed the heavy door open.
The office was enormous.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the entire city. Shelves lined one wall, filled with books and awards. A long conference table occupied the opposite side of the room.
Standing by the window, one hand tucked into his pocket, was a man in a charcoal suit.
His back was to her.
He didn't turn around.
Hazel stepped inside carefully.
"The weekly briefing, sir."
Silence.
She crossed the room and placed the folder neatly on the desk.
"I'm leaving it here."
She turned to go.
"You're new."
His voice stopped her.
Deep.
Calm.
Not loud.
It didn't need to be.
She looked back.
"Yes."
"You started this week."
Again.
Not a question.
"Yes, sir."
He remained facing the window.
"I was told someone volunteered to bring the briefing."
Hazel blinked.
"...I did."
Another long silence settled between them.
"So."
His voice remained impossibly even.
"Why did you volunteer?"
Hazel hesitated.
She could lie.
Instead...
"I was trying to avoid someone."
For the first time, the man moved.
He turned.
Hazel forgot how to breathe.
He wasn't simply handsome.
He was intimidating.
Sharp features. Dark eyes that revealed absolutely nothing. Every inch of him carried the quiet confidence of someone who had never questioned whether he belonged anywhere.
This...
was Liam Hale.
He studied her without speaking.
Not rudely.
Not kindly.
Simply... observing.
His gaze lingered just long enough to make Hazel painfully aware of herself.
The simple bun she'd tied that morning.
The plain white blouse.
The cheap shoes she'd polished before leaving home.
Finally...
he spoke.
"You came here..."
A pause.
"...to avoid someone else."
"Yes."
Another silence.
Then the corner of his mouth moved not into a smile.
Something colder.
"Interesting."
Hazel shifted uncomfortably.
"I didn't know this was your office."
"I know."
His eyes never left hers.
"Most people spend their careers trying not to end up here."
Hazel didn't understand.
"I'm sorry?"
"You chose my office because you believed it was the safer option."
Her heartbeat stumbled.
"I..."
He took one slow step closer.
Not enough to invade her space.
Enough to remind her how much taller he was.
"Tell me."
His voice remained calm.
"So I can understand."
A beat.
"Who frightened you badly enough..."
His eyes searched hers with unsettling patience.
"...that you chose me instead?"
Hazel's fingers tightened around the strap of her blouse.
She wanted to answer.
She wanted to leave.
She wasn't sure which feeling was stronger.
Outside the office, the receptionist glanced toward the closed door.
Five minutes had passed.
Then seven.
No intern had ever stayed inside Liam Hale's office that long.
Not once.
He pressed the intercom.
"Claire."
"Yes, Mr. Hale?"
"Cancel my next meeting."
Hazel's eyes widen.
Liam finally looks directly at her.
"Tell me."
Silence.
"Who were you running from?"
Hazel hesitates.
"I... don't think that's appropriate."
Another pause.
Then…
Something almost unreadable crosses his face.
Not anger.
Displeasure.
He's not used to people refusing him.
He reached for the briefing folder, glanced through the last page, then closed it.
"Very well."
Hazel quietly exhales.
Maybe it's over.
Then
"Starting next week..."
His tone is as calm as ever..
"You'll deliver the executive briefing personally."
Hazel blinks.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Every Monday."
"But... I'm only an intern."
"I'm aware."
Another silence.
"Don't be late."
He returns to his paperwork.
Completely dismissing her.
Hazel stands there for another second, unsure whether she'd just been punished... or promoted.
Outside, Claire looks up from her desk.
A strange expression crosses her face.
Almost...pity.
"Miss Hazel?"
"Yes?"
"...No intern has ever been asked to come back.”
- Writer
