Chapter 11
543 Words
The Weight of Attention
Bea learned the difference between being ignored and being watched.
Being ignored was easier.
It gave her space to breathe, to disappear into routines and tasks, to pretend she was just another employee whose presence did not matter. Being watched, on the other hand, carried weight. It followed her movements. It pressed against her skin.
And today, Ace Monteverde was watching her.
She felt it without looking.
Every time she stood to retrieve documents. Every time she answered the phone. Every time she shifted in her chair, there was a pull in the air, a quiet awareness that made her shoulders tense.
She told herself it was paranoia.
But paranoia did not come with instinct.
And her instincts had been screaming since morning.
Why now?
The question circled her thoughts as she typed. He had gone days without speaking to her unless necessary. Days where she could almost convince herself that the tension between them had been imagined.
But this morning, the silence was different.
It felt deliberate.
The intercom buzzed.
“Miss Bea.”
Her fingers froze for a split second before she stood. She smoothed her skirt, squared her shoulders, and walked into his office.
“Yes, sir?”
Ace sat behind his desk, expression unreadable, hands folded as if he had been waiting longer than he should have.
“Sit.”
She hesitated, then obeyed.
The chair felt too close. Too exposed.
He studied her quietly, eyes sharp, searching for something she did not know how to give.
“You’ve been quieter than usual,” he said.
She kept her voice neutral. “I’m working.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Her chest tightened. “I don’t understand, sir.”
His gaze lingered. “You used to look like you were enduring something.”
And now?
The unspoken question filled the space.
She chose her words carefully. “I learned how to adapt.”
Something flickered across his face. Not satisfaction.
Displeasure.
He leaned back slightly. “You don’t avoid me anymore.”
She almost laughed at that. “I never avoided you.”
“You did,” he said calmly. “You just did it quietly.”
Her pulse quickened.
“I respect boundaries,” she replied. “Mine and yours.”
That answer unsettled him. She could see it.
He stood and walked around the desk, stopping just far enough not to touch her.
“Do you plan to leave this company?” he asked.
The question stunned her.
“No,” she answered honestly. “I need this job.”
That was the truth.
But not the whole truth.
Because lately, she had started to wonder how much longer she could stay without losing herself.
His eyes searched her face, as if he could read the part she did not say.
“Good,” he said finally. “Because I don’t like instability.”
She nodded, though something inside her recoiled.
She stood when he dismissed her, walking back to her desk with measured steps.
But her heart felt heavier than before.
Because she was starting to understand something terrifying.
Ace Monteverde did not like losing control.
And whatever was happening between them felt like something neither of them controlled anymore.
- Writer
