BEHIND HIS ICE

The entire twenty-second floor of Moore Industries operated on fear. Fear of deadlines. Fear of mistakes. Fear of one man. The sharp sound of polished shoes echoed through the marble hallway, and every employee instantly straightened in their seats. Xavier Moore had arrived. Cold gray eyes swept across the office without emotion as he adjusted the cuff of his black suit. Everything about him screamed control—his posture, his silence, even the way people avoided breathing too loudly around him. “Good morning, sir,” several employees greeted nervously. He didn’t answer. Inside the elevator, the atmosphere remained frozen as two interns lowered their heads, pretending to study files they clearly weren’t reading. Xavier Moore was not a cruel man. Cruel required emotion. And emotions were luxuries he buried years ago. The elevator doors opened directly into the executive floor. Meanwhile, inside his office, Eve Adams balanced a phone between her shoulder and ear while typing rapidly on her laptop. “Yes, Mrs. Holloway, the meeting was moved to eleven, not ten,” she said calmly. “No, Mr. Moore does not reschedule twice.” A pause. Another complaint. Eve closed her eyes briefly. “I understand your frustration, ma’am.” The office doors suddenly opened. Her eyes lifted. And there he was. Tall. Cold. Untouchable. Xavier walked past her desk without a word, removing his gloves slowly. “You’re seven minutes late,” Eve said casually into the phone before hanging up. Silence. Several nearby employees nearly stopped breathing. Xavier turned slowly toward her. “What did you say?” Eve finally looked up from her screen. “You’re late. Your first meeting starts in thirteen minutes, and your coffee is getting cold.” The room practically vibrated with tension. No one spoke to Xavier Moore that way. But Eve Adams always did. For a long second, he simply stared at her. Then his gaze shifted toward the coffee on his desk. “Replace it.” Eve blinked. “You haven’t tasted it.” “It’s cold.” “It’s warm.” His expression darkened slightly. “Are you arguing with me before nine in the morning?” “Yes.” A dangerous silence followed. Then unexpectedly… The corner of Xavier’s mouth twitched. Not a smile. Something rarer. Interest. Eve stood and grabbed the coffee cup anyway. “Your mother called twice.” That wiped away whatever softness almost appeared on his face. “I’m not discussing family matters at work.” “She sounded worried.” “She always sounds worried.” Eve watched him quietly for a moment. People saw Xavier Moore as a machine in a tailored suit. Untouchable. Perfect. Ruthless. But she noticed the faint shadows beneath his eyes. The exhaustion hidden beneath arrogance. The sleepless nights. “You didn’t sleep again,” she said softly. His eyes snapped toward her instantly. That was the problem with Eve Adams. She noticed things. Things nobody else dared to see. “That will be all,” he said coldly. Professional dismissal. A wall rebuilt in seconds. Eve nodded once and turned away, pretending not to notice his clenched jaw. Pretending not to notice how tired he looked. And definitely pretending not to notice the strange pull she felt every time he looked at her like she was the only person in the room. — Three hours later, Eve sat in the hospital beside her mother’s bed, exhaustion weighing heavily on her shoulders. The faint beeping of medical machines filled the small room. “You’re working too hard again,” her mother whispered weakly. Eve forced a smile. “And you’re worrying too much again.” “You should enjoy your life, Eve.” “I am enjoying it.” “That’s a lie.” Eve laughed quietly, though her chest tightened painfully. Enjoyment didn’t pay hospital bills. Love didn’t keep the lights on. And dreams certainly didn’t survive reality. Her phone buzzed suddenly. Xavier Moore. She stared at the screen. One message. Where are the Henderson files? No greeting. No concern. Just business. Typical. Eve typed quickly. On your desk. Left side drawer. Three dots appeared instantly. Then another message came. You left without informing me. Eve frowned slightly. That almost sounded personal. She shook the thought away quickly. Men like Xavier Moore did not notice absences. Especially not hers. Right?