Chapter 4
416 Words
Cracks
Bea had always believed she was strong.
She had buried her parents without collapsing in front of strangers. She had signed away properties that held her childhood memories. She had listened to lawyers speak about debt as if her family had simply been a failed investment.
She survived all of that.
So she did not understand why one man’s voice through an intercom could make her hands tremble.
“Miss Bea. Inside.”
She inhaled slowly before standing.
Ace did not look at her when she entered. He was reading something on his tablet, expression tight, jaw set.
“You made an error in the Henderson file,” he said.
Her heart skipped. “I checked everything twice, sir.”
“And yet there is still a mistake.”
She stepped closer, scanning the documents. Her eyes moved fast.
There was no mistake.
She knew it.
He knew it.
But she lowered her gaze anyway. “I’ll correct it.”
Silence filled the office.
Heavy. Intentional.
He was watching her.
Not the file.
Her.
“Does nothing affect you?” he asked suddenly.
She looked up, confused. “Sir?”
“The women. The late nights. The pressure.” His eyes did not leave her face. “Me.”
Her voice remained calm. “I need this job.”
Something shifted in his expression at that answer.
It was not fear she spoke from.
It was survival.
She stood. “If there is nothing else, sir, I’ll return to my desk.”
His hand closed around her wrist.
Not painfully.
But firmly enough to stop her.
The warmth of his touch sent a shock through both of them.
He froze.
She froze.
His thumb brushed slightly against her skin before he seemed to realize what he had done. He released her immediately, stepping back as if he had crossed a line he did not want to admit existed.
“Do not misunderstand your place,” he said, voice colder than before.
She nodded.
But something inside her had cracked.
Because she finally understood.
He was not only testing her.
He was fighting himself.
And hurting her was easier than admitting it.
She walked out of the office with steady steps.
But when she sat down, her vision blurred.
Not from weakness.
From the exhaustion of pretending she did not care.
Inside, Ace stared at his hand.
Like he could still feel the warmth of her skin.
And it unsettled him more than anything else had.
- Writer
