Healing His Shadows

Chapter 5: The First Almost Touch in His Office

-POV Elara

I didn’t sleep worth a damn after that fight with Glenn. Gloria’s IG story kept flashing behind my eyelids every time I closed my eyes—red lips, that half-hidden black suit sleeve, the timestamp that lined up perfectly with his “working late” bullshit. By morning my head was pounding and my eyes were puffy, but I still dragged myself to Vitale Tower. Scrubs swapped for intern blouse and skirt, that damn ring still stuck on my finger like it refused to let go.

The morning dragged. Files, charts, coffee that tasted like regret. Around ten, my desk phone rang. Fletcher’s assistant, short and clipped. “Mr. Draven wants to see you in his office. Now.”

My stomach flipped. I smoothed my skirt, took a deep breath, and walked down the hall. The glass walls made everything feel exposed. Action beat—my heels clicked too loud on the marble floor with every step.

I knocked once. His deep voice answered right away. “Come in.”

Fletcher was behind his massive desk, sleeves rolled up, looking every bit the cold boss who owned half the city. Papers spread out in front of him. When I stepped inside, he didn’t smile. Just nodded toward the chair across from him.

“Sit.”

I sat. The leather chair felt too big, like it was swallowing me. Physical barrier—the wide desk between us should’ve made me feel safer, but it only made the air thicker.

He slid a thick folder across the desk. “Special project. I want you on it. Heart monitoring tech for high-risk clients. Your background in surgery makes you perfect for the medical side.”

I flipped open the folder, trying to focus on the pages instead of the way his eyes stayed locked on me. “This… this is a big account. Why me? I’m just an intern.”

He leaned forward slightly, elbows on the desk. “Because I don’t waste talent. And I’ve been watching you, Elara. You don’t half-ass anything.”

The way he said my name sent a stupid little shiver down my spine. I kept my eyes on the papers, but my fingers tightened on the edge of the folder. Almost-touch—he reached across the desk like he was pointing at a line in the document, but his hand stopped just short of mine. Fingers hovering close enough that I could feel the heat.

I didn’t pull back. Couldn’t. My breath caught as his knuckles brushed the air right above my wrist, then moved higher, slow and deliberate, until his fingers were floating just inches from the side of my neck. Not touching. But so close it felt like electricity dancing on my skin. Max almost-touch. My pulse jumped under the thin skin there, and I knew he could see it.

The desk was still between us, but it suddenly felt useless.

“You’re tense,” he said, voice low and rough. His fingers stayed there, hovering, like he was fighting the urge to close the gap. “That fiancé of yours… he’s not making it easier, is he?”

I swallowed hard. The unanswered question hung in the air between us. How the hell did he know? How much did he already see?

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out at first. Just a shaky breath. The almost-touch on my neck made everything feel too warm, too close, too dangerous.

Fletcher finally pulled his hand back, but the ghost of it stayed on my skin. He leaned back in his chair, that small, possessive smile tugging at his mouth.

“You’ll call me by my first name one day,” he said quietly, gray eyes never leaving mine. “Not Mr. Draven. Just Fletcher.”

The words landed heavy, like a promise and a warning at the same time. I stood up too fast, folder clutched to my chest, heart hammering so loud I was sure he could hear it.

“I… I should get started on this.”

He didn’t stop me. But as I reached the door, I felt his eyes on my back the whole way out.

The ring on my finger felt hotter than ever. And that unanswered question kept looping louder in my head:

Why does the wrong man’s almost-touch feel more real than anything my fiancé has given me in months?

End of Chapter 5