CHAPTER TEN: The Call
1288 Words
(Mixed POV – Lilian & Aron)
Lilian
It was the first Saturday she’d had to herself in weeks.
No spreadsheets. No back-to-back calls. No Aron Hale demanding numbers at midnight. Just her couch, a fuzzy blanket, and the guilty pleasure of doing absolutely nothing.
She was halfway through a mindless rom-com when Bella burst through the door with two of her friends from work — both already laughing and holding grocery bags that suspiciously rattled with glass bottles.
“Get up, Lili!” Bella declared, tossing a pillow at her. “We are not rotting in bed this Saturday. We’re going out.”
Lilian groaned. “Define ‘out.’”
“Clubbing, baby!” one of Bella’s friends — a curvy redhead named Joy — grinned. “The Grand Lounge reopened downtown. They’ve got a live DJ tonight.”
“I can’t,” Lilian protested weakly. “I have work on Monday. I just want to sleep—”
“Oh, please,” Bella rolled her eyes. “You’ve been chained to that computer for weeks. You need to breathe.”
Before Lilian could argue again, Bella grabbed her hand and yanked her off the couch. “Come on, let’s find you something hot. Something that’ll make you forget all about Mr. Hale and his fifteen-hour shifts.”
Lilian laughed despite herself. “You know he’s my boss, right?”
“Even worse!” Bella said dramatically. “You definitely need a detox.”
Within minutes, the apartment transformed into a war zone of clothes, heels, and makeup brushes. Music blasted from someone’s phone, and the girls danced between outfit changes, shrieking and giggling.
When Lilian finally stepped out of her room, even Bella froze.
The short black dress hugged her curves like it was designed for her — sleek, minimal, ending mid-thigh. Her hair fell loose around her shoulders, and the faint shimmer of gloss caught the light when she smiled nervously.
“Holy…” Joy whistled. “If your boss saw you like that, he’d forget what company he owns.”
“Stop it,” Lilian said, blushing.
Bella grinned. “Oh, honey. You’re definitely coming out now.”
The club was alive.
Lights flashed in rhythm with the bass, bodies moved in waves, laughter and perfume filled the air. Lilian hadn’t realized how much she’d missed this — the freedom, the noise, the anonymity of it all.
She let the music wash over her, let herself smile, let herself be someone else for a night.
Halfway through a drink, a tall man with warm brown eyes and a charming grin approached her.
“Mind if I sit here?” he asked over the music.
“Depends,” she said, amused. “Are you one of those guys who say they ‘don’t usually do this’?”
He laughed. “Busted. But I’m honest about it. Name’s Peter.”
“Lilian.”
They talked. They danced. He was easy — relaxed, funny, nothing like the sharp edges of her boss’s world. For the first time in months, she wasn’t thinking about deadlines or danger. She was just living.
Until her phone buzzed.
Then buzzed again.
And again.
She frowned and pulled it out. Her heart dropped at the caller ID.
Mr. Hale.
Bella leaned over her shoulder. “You’ve got to be kidding me. He’s calling you now?”
Joy’s eyes widened. “Girl, it’s midnight. You can’t pick that up.”
“I… I should at least see what he wants.”
Peter raised a brow. “You’re seriously thinking of answering your boss at this hour? He’s not your boyfriend.”
“I know,” she said quickly. “But if he’s calling this many times…”
The phone kept ringing. Her stomach twisted.
“Just ignore it,” Bella insisted. “He’ll survive without you for one night.”
But then it rang again — the fourth time — and Lilian knew she couldn’t ignore it.
She sighed, stepping away from the noise and answering. “Hello?”
“Ms. Carter.” Aron’s voice came through, low and direct, as always. “Where are you?”
“At home,” she lied instinctively.
“Good. I need you to bring the Marcellus portfolio to my house immediately. We’ve hit a technical delay on the project, and I need assistance finalizing the files tonight.”
Her chest tightened. “Tonight? It’s—”
“Critical,” he interrupted. “I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t. My driver will meet you in thirty minutes.”
“Understood, sir.”
He hung up. No room for argument.
When she turned back, the others stared at her in disbelief.
“Please tell me you’re not actually going,” Bella said.
“I have to,” Lilian said softly. “It’s work.”
“It’s Saturday night!” Joy protested. “You’re off the clock.”
Peter looked at her with genuine confusion. “He called you out this late to work? What kind of boss does that?”
“The kind that doesn’t sleep,” she said with a half-smile, trying to downplay the awkwardness.
Peter shook his head. “You deserve better. At least let me walk you out.”
As they reached the exit, he pulled out his phone. “Here,” he said, typing quickly. “Take my number. Maybe next weekend you can actually finish a drink before your CEO ruins it.”
She laughed, cheeks warm. “Maybe.”
“Promise you’ll call?”
“I promise.”
Aron
He shouldn’t have called her.
He could’ve sent a driver to retrieve the files or had someone from the IT department patch into the system remotely. But for some reason, when he’d needed help finalizing the project, his first thought had been her.
It wasn’t logic — it was instinct.
Now he stood in his home office, pacing. He told himself it was about efficiency. She worked faster than anyone on his team. She was precise, reliable, calm under pressure.
But when the doorbell rang, he realized the lie for what it was.
He was waiting for her.
Lilian
She thanked the driver quietly as she stepped out of the car. The Hale mansion loomed above her again, glowing faintly against the dark sky.
She adjusted her dress nervously, suddenly hyper-aware of how short it was, how the heels clicked too loudly against the stone floor.
The butler opened the door before she could knock. “Good evening, Ms. Carter. Mr. Hale is expecting you. Right this way.”
Her heart hammered as she followed the man down the hallway — the same marble floors, the same stillness.
When she entered the study, Aron looked up from his desk — and froze.
For a second, he forgot to speak.
She stood framed in the doorway, the lamplight spilling across her bare legs, her dress glinting faintly with sequins. Her hair was loose, her cheeks flushed from the night air.
Definitely not the image of his calm, efficient assistant.
His pulse kicked hard in his chest.
“Ms. Carter,” he managed finally, his voice lower than intended. “You—uh—came quickly.”
She bit her lip, trying not to die of embarrassment. “You said it was urgent, sir.”
“Yes.” He cleared his throat, forcing his eyes to her face. “The project files. We’ll, uh, review them together.”
“Of course.”
She stepped closer, the scent of her perfume faint but maddening. He told himself to focus, to remember this was work. But his thoughts had already betrayed him.
And for the first time in a long time, Aron Hale was completely, utterly distracted.
- Writer
