Chapter 16
1747 Words
Liora’s POV
The morning started the same way it usually did. A too early alarm. A half finished cup of coffee. My reflection looking like someone who had not fully recovered from yesterday’s long meetings or the embarrassing memory of Ezra kneeling in front of me with a first aid kit.
But the moment I walked into the office, nothing felt the same.
People nodded at me in the hallway. Some smiled. Some looked curious, like they were trying to figure out exactly why Ezra Reeve’s new assistant was arriving with slippers tucked into her bag and faint pink marks around her ankles.
I pretended I did not notice any of it.
I slipped into my office, set down my things, and took a deep breath. A new day. A chance to prove myself. A chance to forget how warm Ezra’s voice had been last night when he apologized again and again in the car. A chance to stop thinking about how his eyes softened every time he looked at my feet.
I was still smoothing my hair when someone knocked.
Gina burst in without waiting for an answer, her arms full of folders and her face glowing with mischief.
“Good morning, Miss Assistant to the Supreme Overlord,” she announced.
I groaned. “Do not start.”
She dropped two folders onto my desk and then leaned in dramatically, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I come bearing official congratulatory paperwork.”
I blinked. “For what.”
“For your ascension.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “You do not have to squeeze onto the subway anymore.”
My brain stuttered. “What are you talking about.”
Gina stepped back, crossed her arms, and smirked at me like she had been waiting all morning to deliver this. “Your car. Your driver. Your daily golden chariot sent from the heavens. Or, well, from Ezra.”
I stared at her.
“What car.”
“Oh, do not play innocent. Bob told me. Bob always knows things. Apparently you have an assigned company vehicle now.” She touched my arm. “Liora. You are free from public transit. This is a historic moment.”
I shook my head, confused. “I think you misunderstood. I joked last night about not riding in Ezra’s car so often. I did not mean I needed a car. It was just a joke.”
Gina snorted. “Well, someone took it seriously.”
My stomach dropped.
Only one person would have done that.
“I need to confirm this,” I muttered, grabbing the folders and heading toward Ezra’s office before my self preservation instincts could stop me.
Gina followed behind me like an excited puppy. “You should thank him. This is huge.”
“I am not thanking him. I am un asking him.”
“Un asking is not a real thing.”
“It is today.”
Before she could argue, I reached his office. The door was open, and Ezra was behind his desk, sleeves rolled up, glasses on, hair slightly messy in the way that should have been illegal. He looked focused, sharp, composed, every inch the man whose signature could end careers or build empires.
For a moment, I forgot how to speak.
He looked up.
Everything inside me tightened.
“Good morning,” he said, with that quiet confidence he always carried. “You are early.”
“I need to ask you something,” I blurted.
Gina elbowed me from behind. Very unhelpfully.
Ezra leaned back slightly in his chair. “Go ahead.”
I forced the words out. “Did you… assign me a car.”
There was a brief pause, then a simple, unapologetic, “Yes.”
I stared at him. “Why.”
“You should not be taking crowded trains home at night,” he said. “It is unsafe. And inefficient. As my assistant, you need to be mobile, available, and able to travel to clients or departments on short notice.”
“That sounds like you memorized that from a manual.”
“Possibly,” he admitted calmly. “But that does not make it untrue.”
I tightened my grip on the folders. “Ezra, that is too much. It feels like a gift.”
“It is not a gift,” he said, firm but gentle. “It is a tool. A resource assigned to your position. Nothing more.”
“But it feels like more.”
“It is not.”
He waited a moment, studying my reaction, then added softly, “And you do not need to resist everything that makes your life easier.”
My face heated instantly. “It is not that. It is just… unexpected.”
He nodded once, satisfied. “Then accept it as part of your job. Not as something personal.”
That stung a little more than it should have. But I forced a smile. “Fine. I will accept it.”
“Good.” He gestured toward the folders in my hands. “Now take these and look through them carefully before the afternoon meeting.”
I blinked. “The meeting. I thought you were handling it.”
“I am,” he said. “You will sit in and observe. Eventually you will take over handling preliminary discussions. So you need to understand the structure.”
My heart did a strange flutter. “You are staying for my first one.”
“Of course.”
His tone made it sound like there had never been another option.
Ezra reached for something on his desk and tossed two more documents toward me. I fumbled and managed to catch them against my chest.
“These are certifications you should consider,” he said. “Project coordination. Contract management. Pick the ones that suit you best.”
My brain tripped. “Already.”
“You want to advance, do you not.”
“Well… yes.”
“Then start preparing. You are capable of much more than basic paperwork.”
I swallowed a lump in my throat. Praise from him always felt too intense, too heavy, like it might melt me if I held it too long.
“Thank you,” I managed quietly.
“You are welcome.”
I turned to leave, fully prepared to escape before I embarrassed myself by staring at him like a lovesick teenager.
But then I made a mistake.
I glanced back at him.
Just to see what he looked like when he worked. Just curiosity. Just a moment.
Except he lifted his gaze at the same time.
Our eyes collided.
My breath hitched. His expression shifted just a little. Warmer. Deeper. Familiar in a way that made my heart ache with memories of libraries and whispered conversations and teenage feelings I thought I had buried.
Before I could tear my eyes away, he spoke.
“We will have a chance to meet again.”
The words were simple. Professional. Maybe even teasing.
But they felt like something else entirely.
I nodded too quickly. “Right. Yes. Later.”
Then I practically fled.
Gina caught up beside me in the hallway, her grin wide and evil. “So. That went well.”
“Do not,” I warned.
“I did not say anything.”
“You are thinking everything.”
“Yes,” she agreed happily. “And so are you.”
I clutched the documents tighter. “I am thinking about work.”
“Mm hmm,” she said. “And about how Ezra Reeve just casually rearranged your entire mode of transportation because of one joke you made.”
I groaned. “It was just overprotectiveness.”
“Oh please,” she scoffed. “That man is one thoughtful step away from installing airbags around you.”
I ignored that as best I could.
But as the day went on, the new reality settled around me in small waves.
The company car paperwork arrived in a neat folder.
Security updated my access profile.
Two department heads congratulated me like I had been promoted.
And through all of it, Ezra stayed almost entirely in his office, focused and distant, only sending brief messages with instructions or updates about the upcoming meeting.
Yet every time he passed by my door, his eyes lingered for half a second too long.
Every time I brought him documents, he thanked me with that soft tone he used only when no one else was listening.
Every time I felt overwhelmed, he seemed to sense it, sending a note or calling me into his office to clarify something before I could panic.
Professional.
Composed.
Careful.
But still Ezra. The boy I used to know. The man I was trying very hard not to fall for.
After lunch, I sat in my office, reading through the legal summaries he wanted me to learn. I traced the lines of the contract structures, the case histories, the client profiles. I made notes. I underlined patterns. I tried to be the assistant he clearly believed I could be.
And yet, even while I studied, part of my mind wandered.
To him.
To yesterday.
To his hands on my feet, gentle and steady.
To how he defended me in the bar.
To the look in his eyes last night when he told me he should have paid more attention.
I inhaled sharply and forced my focus back to the documents.
Work. Not him. Work.
But when I returned to his office two hours later with questions, he lifted his eyes slowly, like he had been waiting for me.
And everything inside me jolted.
“Ready for the meeting,” he asked.
“Yes,” I whispered.
He nodded, stood, and moved toward the door, brushing past me just close enough that the faint scent of cedar and warm smoke followed him.
My heart beat too fast.
This was becoming dangerous.
For him.
For me.
For whatever boundaries I claimed to respect.
But as I followed him down the hallway toward the client conference room, clutching my notes and trying to keep my breathing steady, a quiet truth settled into my bones.
I wanted to be here.
With him.
Learning. Working. Growing.
And maybe, just maybe, hoping for more than I should.
Whether I was ready for that or not, the day was far from over.
And Ezra Reeve was only just beginning to unravel me.
- Writer
