Closer than Before
829 Words
The next morning, the office buzzed louder than usual. People spoke in hushed tones, glancing at the elevators every few minutes as if waiting for someone important to arrive. Rumors were spreading faster than wildfire—about the mysterious man, about the receptionist he caught, about how the air in the lobby seemed to change when the two locked eyes.
Georgia tried her best to ignore it all. She kept her head down, tapping on her keyboard, stamping papers, answering phones. But the whispers seemed to follow her everywhere she went.
“That’s her.”
“The one he caught.”
“They looked like… I swear, like lovers.”
Her cheeks burned every time.
Why can’t they just forget about it? she thought. It was an accident. Nothing more.
But deep down, she wasn’t sure if she believed her own words.
Charles’s POV
Charles adjusted his tie in the tinted glass reflection of his office window. Today was not about board meetings or expansion plans. Today was about her.
Miguel had already arranged the perfect excuse. A stack of documents “required” Georgia’s delivery to the executive floor. It wasn’t unusual—sometimes receptionists were asked to carry papers when assistants were unavailable. To her, it would seem like coincidence. But to Charles, it was strategy.
Because he needed a reason to be near her.
To hear her voice without the chaos of the lobby.
To see her eyes without a hundred people watching.
The elevator ride was nerve-wracking for Georgia. She clutched the folder to her chest as if it could protect her from the pounding of her heart.
“Executive floor,” the guard said, pressing the button for her.
She had never been up there. That was the realm of the powerful—the untouchable. She was just a receptionist. What business did she have being called to the top?
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing a hallway lined with glass offices, marble floors that gleamed like mirrors, and silence so thick it felt sacred.
Georgia’s steps echoed as she walked toward the largest office at the end.
The door opened before she could even knock.
And there he was.
Georgia’s POV
I froze at the threshold.
He was standing behind a massive desk, tall and sharp in another perfectly tailored suit, his dark hair catching the glow of the morning sun streaming through the windows. He looked like he belonged in a world carved from marble and gold—untouchable, intimidating, yet impossibly magnetic.
My knees nearly gave out when his eyes met mine.
“Miss Santos,” he said smoothly, his voice wrapping around my name like silk. “Come in.”
I stepped inside, clutching the folder tighter. “I-I was told to deliver these documents, sir.”
He extended his hand. I placed the folder into his palm, but the moment our fingers brushed, a shiver ran up my arm.
“Thank you,” he said, but his gaze lingered on me longer than necessary.
I couldn’t breathe.
Charles’s POV
Up close, she was even more dangerous.
Her hair, though still pulled into a messy bun, caught the light like strands of honey. Her eyes flickered with nerves, but there was strength beneath them—a quiet resilience that intrigued him.
He wanted to ask her a thousand questions. He wanted to know why she looked at him like he was both a stranger and a storm.
But he couldn’t reveal too much. Not yet.
“Tell me,” Charles said, leaning back against his desk, watching her carefully. “How long have you been working here?”
She blinked, surprised. “Two years, sir.”
“And do you enjoy it?”
Her lips curved into a faint smile, hesitant but real. “It’s not perfect… but it’s honest work. I’m grateful for it.”
Honest.
The word struck him harder than it should have.
In his world, honesty was rare—almost extinct. But here she was, saying it so casually, like it was a natural part of her.
The air between them grew heavier, charged with something unspoken.
Then, without warning—
Knock knock.
Miguel entered, his presence breaking the spell. “Sir, your meeting in five minutes.”
Charles’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t ready for her to leave. Not yet.
But Georgia quickly bowed her head. “Thank you for your time, sir.” She turned, her footsteps hurried as she slipped out the door.
Charles remained still, his pulse still racing.
She was slipping away from him—again.
And this time, he swore he wouldn’t let her vanish into the crowd so easily.
That night, under the glow of the moon, Charles stared out over the ocean from his suite. He whispered her name again, like a vow written in the stars.
Georgia Santos.
Tomorrow, he promised himself, he would not just wait for fate. Tomorrow, he would create it.
- Writer
