Chapter 12
1306 Words
Raina’s POV
The silence after Theo’s comment didn’t feel human.
It felt nuclear.
One sentence.
That was all it took.
One lazy, careless sentence tossed into the middle of Grant Global’s executive floor like a lit match dropped into gasoline.
For a man about to get divorced…
I could practically hear thirty employees trying not to blink too loudly.
Chris looked seconds away from fainting dramatically onto the nearest desk.
One assistant suddenly became deeply fascinated with a printer that wasn’t even turned on.
Even Sophie’s fingers tightened slightly around the thermos she was holding.
And Harrison?
Harrison looked like murder wrapped in a tailored black suit.
“Theo,” he said evenly, which somehow sounded far more dangerous than shouting, “you talk too much.”
Theo only grinned wider.
“I’m genetically gifted at observation.”
“You’re genetically gifted at being irritating.”
“That too.”
I should’ve walked away.
Any sane person would have.
But something about the atmosphere kept me rooted in place.
Maybe curiosity.
Maybe exhaustion.
Maybe the deeply buried, self-destructive part of me that still wanted answers even after deciding to leave.
Theo glanced toward me suddenly, entirely too entertained.
“You didn’t know?” he asked casually.
My expression didn’t shift.
“I know plenty.”
“Hm.” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Interesting. Because Harrison’s been acting like a man whose wife is halfway out the door and taking his organs with her.”
The entire floor collectively stopped breathing.
Chris whispered, “I need a raise for this.”
I ignored her.
Barely.
Harrison’s gaze cut toward Theo like sharpened steel.
“Get to your meeting.”
Theo sighed dramatically.
“So hostile. Fine. I’ll leave you all to your emotionally catastrophic workplace romance.”
Then, before walking away, he leaned slightly toward me and added in a lower voice,
“For what it’s worth, Raina… some people only realize they’re drowning after the water reaches their throat.”
Then he walked off.
Just like that.
Leaving destruction behind him with the ease of a man who enjoyed chaos recreationally.
Silence lingered another painful second.
Then Harrison turned toward the staff.
“Everyone back to work.”
Immediate movement exploded across the floor.
Chairs rolled.
Keyboards clicked.
Phones rang.
Corporate survival instincts activated instantly.
Within seconds, people scattered like frightened birds pretending they hadn’t heard anything.
I should’ve done the same.
Instead, my gaze slid toward Sophie.
Her expression remained composed.
Almost impressively so.
But I noticed the tiny things.
The stiffness in her smile.
The way her nails pressed lightly into the thermos lid.
The calculation flickering behind her eyes.
She looked at Harrison carefully.
Like she was trying to measure something invisible.
Then softly, she said,
“You should probably head to your meeting.”
Professional.
Gentle.
Perfectly timed.
Harrison nodded once.
But before leaving, his gaze shifted toward me again.
Direct.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
“You’re late for the medical review meeting,” he said calmly.
I blinked once.
That was it?
After that?
After Theo detonated a corporate bomb in the middle of the executive floor?
That was what he had to say?
I almost laughed.
“Thank you for the update,” I replied coolly. “I’d forgotten how clocks worked.”
Chris choked again behind me.
Honestly, she deserved compensation at this point.
Something flickered across Harrison’s expression.
Annoyance.
Maybe amusement.
Maybe both.
Then he finally walked away.
Sophie followed beside him.
Not touching.
Not smiling.
Not speaking.
And somehow…
That unsettled me more than if they had.
Because for weeks, everything between them had looked obvious.
Comfortable.
Close.
But this morning?
Something had shifted.
Something subtle.
Tiny cracks in polished glass.
I hated that I noticed.
I hated that part of me still cared enough to notice.
“Girl,” Chris whispered the second they disappeared into the executive hallway, “what in the billionaire soap opera was that?”
“I don’t know.”
“That was absolutely not an ‘I don’t know’ situation.”
I picked up the nearest file.
“Don’t you have work?”
“Yes,” she admitted shamelessly, “but gossip is my passion.”
Lily suddenly appeared beside us carrying coffee like a warrior arriving late to battle.
“What did I miss?”
Chris grabbed her dramatically.
“Everything.”
“Define everything.”
“The CEO may or may not be emotionally constipated and secretly obsessed with his wife.”
Lily gasped.
I walked away immediately.
Because if I stayed another second, I might actually start laughing.
Or screaming.
Possibly both.
The emergency response training area occupied the entire lower aviation wing of Grant Global.
Massive.
Bright.
Filled with simulation equipment, oxygen tanks, emergency stretchers, and enough pressure to make new recruits sweat through expensive uniforms.
I adjusted my gloves while reviewing the trainee list.
Lily hovered nearby, still emotionally invested in executive-floor drama.
“You know,” she said carefully, “Theo wasn’t entirely wrong.”
I didn’t look up.
“That sentence alone already feels dangerous.”
“He looks weird lately.”
“Harrison always looks weird. That’s his personality.”
“No,” she insisted. “I mean… jealous weird.”
I almost dropped the clipboard.
“Absolutely not.”
“Raina.”
“He’s not jealous. He’s controlling. There’s a difference.”
Lily opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Then muttered, “Sometimes those overlap.”
Before I could answer, the training doors opened.
And Harrison walked in.
Of course he did.
Because apparently peace was no longer available to me.
The entire room straightened instantly.
His presence always did that.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just absolute authority wrapped in composure.
Frank walked beside him flipping through digital files while talking nonstop.
Harrison ignored him expertly.
Then his eyes found me.
Immediately.
Like they always did lately.
And something strange twisted in my chest at how automatic it seemed.
Professional, I reminded myself harshly.
This means nothing.
“Begin,” Harrison said simply.
The trainees moved quickly into position.
I focused on work.
Vitals.
Emergency airway procedures.
Evacuation response.
Anything except the man standing six feet away making my nervous system malfunction through sheer existence.
A simulation dummy was rolled forward.
I knelt beside it.
“Scenario one,” I instructed calmly. “Passenger collapse during turbulence. Priority assessment begins immediately after securing surrounding hazards.”
The trainees gathered closer.
I demonstrated chest compressions carefully.
Measured.
Controlled.
Professional.
“Keep your elbows locked,” I explained. “You use body weight, not arm strength. Panic wastes oxygen and time.”
“Like this?”
One trainee attempted it badly.
“No,” I corrected gently, repositioning his shoulders. “You’ll exhaust yourself within thirty seconds.”
“You’re very patient.”
The unfamiliar male voice came from behind me.
I looked up.
A trainee pilot.
Tall.
Probably late twenties.
Smiling.
Friendly.
Harmless.
“I try to be,” I replied politely.
“You make near-death situations sound comforting.”
Lily made a suspicious choking noise nearby.
The pilot extended a hand casually.
“Evan Carter.”
I hesitated briefly before shaking it.
“Raina West.”
And suddenly…
The entire room temperature dropped twenty degrees.
I didn’t need to look.
I felt it.
Harrison.
Watching.
When I finally glanced up…
His expression was unreadable.
Which, somehow, was worse.
Frank noticed too.
His eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Evan smiled easily, oblivious to the incoming corporate apocalypse.
“So,” he continued, “do all medical instructors here look terrifyingly competent, or is that just you?”
Lily physically turned away to hide laughter.
I sighed internally.
This was going to become a problem.
Because Harrison Grant had started staring at Evan like he was personally responsible for global instability.
- Writer
