A Dance of Gilded Lies

Chapter8

Smoke and Sparks

The morning air at Hartford & Co. felt heavier than usual. The muted hum of keyboards and the occasional shuffle of papers were the only sounds, until the company’s internal broadcast system chimed.

Eva froze mid-typing as Alexander Hartford’s face appeared on every screen in the building. His tone was clipped, his expression carved from stone.

“This morning,” Alexander began, “I received a direct email from the individual behind the recent breach attempt.”

The room collectively stilled.

His gaze swept the camera lens as if it were a courtroom. “It read — and I quote — ‘1 of 5 done. Wait for the next step.’”

A ripple of unease moved through the workspace. Someone coughed. Another person whispered something that sounded like a prayer.

Alexander’s voice cut through the tension. “I expect each of you to remain vigilant. Our security teams will be conducting random system checks. If anyone sees anything suspicious, report it immediately. The company’s future depends on our collective alertness.”

The screen went black.

Eva tried to swallow the knot in her throat. She kept telling herself she had done nothing wrong… except for that one email two weeks ago, the one that told her to “update her password through the new internal link.” She’d thought it was from IT. She had followed instructions without thinking twice.

And ever since, she’d been avoiding that memory like it was a live grenade.

---

By late afternoon, her head was buzzing with numbers and emails. She was rushing to finish an urgent financial summary when her phone pinged with a new request. She skimmed it, clicked “send,” and… realized, too late, she had sent the file to the wrong department. The wrong high-security department.

She barely had time to curse before Ethan’s voice sliced through the air.

“Miss Moore,” he said from behind her, and she instantly sat up straighter.

He didn’t raise his voice — he didn’t have to. The sharp, clipped tone was worse. “Care to explain why an internal security clearance file landed in Marketing’s inbox?”

Her stomach dropped. “I— It was a misclick. I’ll fix it right now—”

“No,” Ethan said, his jaw tense. “You’ll fix it after everyone else has gone home. You’ll check every line twice and you will not leave until it’s flawless.”

Eva’s face burned, but she managed a tight, “Yes, sir.”

In her head, however, she was a lot less polite. Oh yes, Your Highness, I’ll just cancel my entire evening so I can be your personal human spell-check. Should I also polish your desk while I’m at it? Maybe shine your shoes?

---

By six-thirty, the office was nearly empty. Sophie passed her desk on her way out, pausing just long enough to tilt her head with fake concern.

“Poor thing,” Sophie said in a voice dripping with honey and arsenic. “If you’d just been a bit more careful, you wouldn’t be stuck here.”

Eva gave her the kind of tight smile that could cut glass. Yes, Sophie, may your eyelashes fall off in your sleep and may your coffee always be lukewarm.

---

At eight, Eva’s phone buzzed. It was her mother. She answered instantly, grateful for a familiar voice.

“Elena,” she breathed, leaning back in her chair.

“Eva, mi corazón,” Elena said warmly. “You sound tired.”

“That’s because I’m still at work. Apparently I’m the company’s new favorite scapegoat.”

Elena’s voice softened but carried an edge Eva rarely heard. “Some people in that building don’t deserve the loyalty they’re given.”

Eva frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing,” Elena said quickly. “Just… don’t let them break you, hija. You’re stronger than they think.”

Eva bit her lip. “I just wish I could catch a break. I don’t even remember the last time I came home before ten.”

Her mother chuckled softly. “When you do, I’ll make that soup you love.”

Eva smiled through the sting in her eyes. “Deal.”

They said their goodbyes, and Eva hung up — but the ache lingered. She blinked fast, but the tears slipped out anyway.

---

By nine, the office was a cavern of shadows and hums from the vents. She was bent over the screen when the elevator doors dinged open.

Lucas Hartford stepped out, looking like he’d just walked off the cover of a yacht magazine — all tailored navy blazer and lazy confidence.

“Well, well,” he drawled, strolling toward her desk. “Corporate Cinderella. Don’t tell me you live here now.”

Eva arched a brow. “Don’t tell me you actually came to the office voluntarily.”

Lucas grinned. “Touché. I came to… pick something up.” He glanced at Ethan’s office door, then back at her. “But finding you here is far more interesting.”

“I’m working,” Eva said flatly, turning back to her screen.

Lucas leaned on the edge of her desk, ignoring the dismissal. “Tell you what — finish up, and I’ll give you a ride home. Call it a peace offering.”

“I didn’t realize we were at war.”

“Then consider it a… preventative treaty.”

She snorted despite herself. “Fine. But only because the buses stopped running an hour ago.”

---

The car ride started quietly enough — the low hum of the engine, the faint scent of leather and expensive cologne. Then Lucas decided silence was boring.

“So,” he said, glancing over, “what’s it like being Ethan’s personal storm cloud sponge?”

Eva smirked. “Exhausting. I think I deserve hazard pay.”

“You do have a talent for making him glare,” Lucas mused. “Which I find deeply entertaining.”

“Glad my suffering amuses you,” she deadpanned.

Halfway through the drive, Lucas tried to balance his coffee cup while adjusting the radio — only for the lid to pop off, spilling lukewarm coffee onto his thigh.

“Son of a—” He swerved slightly, pulling into a side street.

Eva burst into laughter, doubling over in her seat. “Karma works fast, doesn’t it?”

Lucas shot her a mock glare while blotting his pants with napkins. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“I’m cherishing it,” she corrected, grinning.

For a moment, their eyes met, and Lucas felt a strange jolt — the kind that wasn’t just amusement. Her smile lit up her face in a way he hadn’t noticed before.

---

When they reached her building, she unbuckled and muttered, “Thanks for the ride. Try not to drown in coffee next time.”

Lucas smirked. “And you — try not to work yourself into an early grave.”

She rolled her eyes, heading for the door. Lucas stayed in the car, watching her disappear inside. He should have driven away. Instead, he fou

nd himself sitting there, replaying her laugh in his mind — and frowning at the fact that he didn’t hate the sound.