Whispers, Warnings and the Woman in Red
679 Words
Zoe arrived at the office the next morning to find whispers following her like perfume.
“That’s her,” someone murmured near the elevators.
“Did you hear? She was locked in with him last night.”
“They say she’s… close to the CEO.”
Zoe kept walking, chin high, face unreadable exactly the way Tasha, her best friend, had coached her to act. She hadn’t done anything wrong, but in a place like Carrington Corp., rumors were more dangerous than facts.
She settled at her desk outside Damian’s office and booted up her computer. But even as she tried to focus, she could feel Lara’s eyes drilling holes into the back of her head.
Moments later, Lara sauntered over, sipping an iced coffee with an overexaggerated smile.
“Rough night?” she asked sweetly.
Zoe didn’t look away from her screen. “Actually, I slept great. Thanks for asking.”
Lara leaned closer. “You might want to be careful, sweetheart. Girls who get too cozy with the boss usually fall harder when they get replaced.”
Zoe finally looked up, her eyes sharp. “You seem awfully interested in my downfall. Should I be flattered or concerned?”
Lara’s smile faltered just enough. “Just friendly advice.”
“Noted. And here’s mine: try minding your own business. It’s less exhausting.”
Before Lara could respond, the elevator chimed.
And in walked a woman that made even Lara freeze mid-step.
Vanessa Sinclair.
She was perfection in a crimson designer dress and matching heels, with waves of golden hair cascading down her shoulders. Her lipstick was bold, her expression bolder, and the air around her chilled at least ten degrees.
Her eyes landed on Zoe immediately.
“Who is that?” she asked Mr. Kelvin, her voice smooth as velvet and just as dangerous.
Mr. Kelvin cleared his throat. “That’s Zoe Bennett. Mr. Carrington’s new assistant.”
Vanessa tilted her head. “Assistant, hmm?”
Then, without breaking her confident stride, she walked straight past Zoe’s desk and into Damian’s office without knocking.
Zoe blinked.
“Do people just… walk into his office like that?” she asked Kelvin.
“Only one,” he said. “That one.”
Inside the office, Vanessa closed the door behind her with a sharp click.
“Damian,” she purred.
He looked up from his desk, eyebrows arching. “Vanessa. This is a surprise.”
“Is it?” She moved closer, placing a slim hand on his desk. “You haven’t answered my texts. Or my mother’s invitation to dinner.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“With the help?”
His eyes narrowed just slightly. “If you mean my assistant, I hired her based on skill, not pedigree.”
Vanessa smiled, but her tone turned icy. “I’m sure. You know your mother won’t like this.”
Damian stood, closing the file in front of him. “My mother likes power. And right now, Carrington Corp. doesn’t need another dinner party with your father’s political donors.”
Her eyes flashed. “So you’re canceling the engagement?”
“I never agreed to it.”
She stepped closer. “You may not have. But our families did. And what they agree to… usually happens.”
There was a long, tense silence.
Then Damian said coldly, “I don’t make decisions based on pressure. Or gossip. And I certainly don’t owe you an explanation about who I hire.”
Vanessa straightened her back. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
She turned on her heel and stormed out, heels echoing like gunshots down the marble floor.
And as she passed Zoe’s desk, she paused just long enough to flash a tight, elegant smile.
“Nice blouse. Did they pull that from accounting’s lost-and-found?”
Zoe smiled back, cool and unfazed. “Nope. I bought it. Unlike some people, I work for what I wear.”
Vanessa’s eyes narrowed.
But she said nothing and walked away, her perfume trailing behind her like poison in the air.
- Writer
