Chapter 12 – The Drive Home
1167 Words
(Aron’s POV)
The car was silent, except for the faint hum of the engine and the occasional sound of rain tapping on the windshield. Lilian sat beside me, her hands folded tightly over her lap, her eyes fixed on the window as if she was trying to escape through it.
I could still smell her perfume — that same soft scent that had nearly driven me insane earlier. Every now and then, she’d shift, and her dress would brush lightly against my arm, making it impossible to focus on the road.
“Where exactly do you live?” I asked, breaking the silence.
“Just straight ahead,” she said quietly. “Down by Willow Street.”
Willow Street. I frowned. That part of town wasn’t exactly where you’d expect to find someone like her — polished, graceful, efficient. But as we drove deeper, the city lights dimmed, replaced by flickering streetlamps and cracked sidewalks.
When I finally parked, I stared out the windshield. The building in front of me looked half-abandoned — faded paint, broken balcony rails, and a door that looked like it had seen better days decades ago.
She lives here?
For a moment, I just sat there, processing it. It didn’t make sense. Someone as capable as her — with her intelligence, her poise — shouldn’t have been anywhere near a place like this.
She reached for the handle. “Thanks for the ride,” she murmured.
I stepped out too. “I’ll walk you in.”
“That’s really not—”
“I insist,” I said flatly, already moving ahead. She sighed, following reluctantly.
Inside, the hallway smelled faintly of old dust and damp concrete. We climbed a narrow staircase until we reached her door — faded blue, the number barely visible. For a moment, neither of us said anything. The silence between us was thick, heavy, filled with everything we couldn’t say.
Then she cleared her throat. “Would you… like to come in for a moment? Just so you’re not standing here.”
I should’ve said no. I knew I should’ve. But something in her eyes — a quiet vulnerability — made it impossible to refuse.
Inside, the apartment was small, dimly lit, and cluttered in a way that felt lived-in but lonely. My gaze swept around — mismatched furniture, an old couch that had seen better days, a single framed photo of her on a shelf… and countless pictures of another woman. Her roommate, probably.
No parents. No family. Nothing else.
Who was this girl really? And what was she hiding so carefully behind those calm eyes and polite smiles?
She moved around nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry, it’s a mess. I wasn’t expecting—”
“It’s fine,” I said, still scanning the place. “You live here alone?”
“Just with my roommate. She’s out tonight.”
I nodded, lowering myself onto the old couch. The cushion sank beneath my weight, releasing a faint puff of dust. “You’ve done good work, Lilian,” I said suddenly. “That’s why I’m promoting you — officially — to my personal assistant. With a raise.”
Her eyes widened. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to. You’ve earned it.”
She hesitated, visibly unsure whether to thank me or question my motive. I could tell she was nervous — maybe even scared. And I didn’t blame her.
Before I could say anything else, she offered softly, “Would you like something to drink?”
“No need,” I said, standing. “I should get going.”
She walked me to the door, and I reached for the handle — when it suddenly swung open from the outside.
Her roommate stumbled in — clearly drunk — with a tall man behind her, laughing loudly. The smell of alcohol filled the air immediately.
“Oh!” the roommate blurted, eyes widening at me. “You’re— oh my God, you’re Mr. Hale!”
Lilian froze. “Celia, this is my boss,” she said quickly, her cheeks burning.
Celia blinked, glancing between us. “Your boss drove you home? Wow… that’s… nice of him.” The smirk that followed made my jaw clench.
“Goodnight, Miss Brooks,” I said curtly, stepping past them and out into the cold night before anything else could be said.
As I walked back to the car, my mind was a storm. I had no idea what kind of mess I was walking into with her — but something told me, this was only the beginning.
⸻
(Lilian’s POV)
The second the door shut behind him, I groaned and buried my face in my hands.
“Lili,” Celia slurred, grinning, “why didn’t you tell me your boss was that fine?”
“Bella, please,” I muttered. “Don’t start.”
She laughed, kicking off her heels. “What’s he doing dropping you off anyway? That’s not typical boss behavior.”
“It’s not what you think,” I said quickly. “We were working late. That’s all.”
“Right,” she teased, pouring herself a drink. “Just ‘working late.’ Sure.”
I ignored her, retreating to my room. But no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t get the image of his eyes out of my head — the way he’d looked around my place, quietly absorbing every detail. As if he was trying to read me.
And maybe he was.
By morning, the tension from last night still lingered like a fog. I dressed for work, threw on my blazer, and told myself to focus. Avoid him. Keep things strictly professional.
Except… how do you avoid someone who’s literally your boss?
The entire day felt like a test. Aron sent me messages every hour — trivial tasks, sudden errands, unnecessary corrections. It was as if he was deliberately trying to get under my skin.
By noon, I was ready to scream.
What is wrong with this lunatic?!
When lunch break finally came, I escaped to the cafeteria and sank into a seat across from Maryam. She was one of the few people at work who made the day bearable.
“You look like you’ve had a morning,” Maryam said, smiling knowingly.
“You have no idea,” I sighed. “Just… Aron being Aron.”
Maryam chuckled. “Mr. Hale? Yeah, he’s been in one of those moods today. You must have it rough.”
Before I could answer, Tiffany — the office sweetheart everyone pretended to like — strutted over with her usual blinding smile.
“Hi, girls,” she said, setting down her tray. “Mind if I join?”
I forced a polite nod. “Sure.”
Because the last thing I needed today… was to give anyone a reason to start rumors.
And with Aron acting the way he was, I had enough to worry about already.
- Writer
