CHAPTER THREE Eyes Like Fire
1028 Words
Luke Morningstar groaned as the shrill tone of his alarm sliced through the remnants of last night’s haze. He slapped the phone blindly, missing twice before finally silencing it. 8:00 AM. His head pounded like drums in a war zone.
He rolled onto his back, blinking at the ceiling like it had wronged him.
What in God’s name am I doing awake this early?
Then he remembered—the interviews.
He’d insisted on personally vetting every candidate for his new secretary. After the Cassandra disaster, he was done letting HR pick people who were more interested in his bed than the job.
With a grunt, Luke dragged himself out of bed and shuffled toward the shower. The hot water hit his skin like needles, but gradually dulled the pain in his head. He leaned against the wall, letting the steam clear his mind.
And then, a memory flickered.
A pair of brown eyes. Fierce. Sharp. Unafraid.
He was young, maybe eight. One of his older cousins had cornered him during a company gala, teasing him about being soft—“the baby billionaire,” they called him. He hadn’t known what to say. But she had.
A girl with tangled curls and fire in her voice had marched up and told the boy off like she owned the world.
He never got her name. But he remembered those eyes.
Where the hell did she go?
By the time he dressed and stepped out of his penthouse, Mark was already by the car.
Luke paused, eyebrows raised. “You’re following me again? I’m beginning to think you’re obsessed with me.”
Mark smirked. “You just noticed?”
Luke shook his head, sliding into the back seat. “Why are you coming?”
“Someone has to make sure you don’t hire another lingerie model posing as a secretary.”
They both laughed as the driver pulled out onto the main road, weaving through the pulse of the city.
Across town, Claire Jordan woke with a jolt to the sound of coughing.
Anne.
She rushed to her sister’s bedside and placed a palm on her forehead. Burning hot.
Her stomach dropped.
“No, no, no—not today.” The interview. The one she’d barely talked herself into attending.
She reached for the thermometer. 39.5°C.
Claire sat on the edge of the bed, her head in her hands. She should stay. There would be other interviews. Maybe.
But then Elsa called.
“Bring her here,” Elsa said firmly. “We’ll take care of her. She’ll be fine.”
“I don’t know…”
“Claire. You need this job. Let us help you.”
Moments later, Mrs. Peters called too. Her voice was gentle but firm. “Honey, you’ve sacrificed enough. Bring Anne. We’ve got this.”
By then, it was nearly 9:30. Claire dressed Anne carefully, gave her a dose of medicine, and bundled her into a cab. She kissed her cheek goodbye, whispering that she’d be back soon.
Then she was running.
The Morningstar building loomed like a glass mountain against the skyline. Claire’s heart raced as she stood before it. So sleek. So cold. So far from anything she’d ever known.
She adjusted her blazer—borrowed from Elsa—and reminded herself she didn’t have the luxury of fear.
Inside, the lobby buzzed with activity. Security guided her to the 42nd floor, where a dozen applicants sat lined against the wall, resumes clutched like shields.
Claire sat down, smoothing her skirt. Her palms were damp. Her heart thudded against her ribcage like a drumbeat of doubt.
Then her name was called.
She stood, spine straight, and walked into the lion’s den.
Luke looked up from a file, his grey eyes piercing. Something about her made him pause.
Brown eyes. Calm. But… burning.
“Good morning,” she said.
He didn’t reply right away. He was staring, studying. Trying to place something that tugged at the edge of memory.
“Have you worked in a company before?” he asked finally.
She shook her head. “No, sir.”
“What did you study?”
“Business management.”
“Why haven’t you used your degree?”
Claire hesitated. “It’s hard to find jobs these days. Especially when… life gets complicated.”
Her voice didn’t shake. Her eyes didn’t drop.
Luke blinked. He didn’t recognize the words, but the fire in her tone—it was her. The little girl who’d defended him all those years ago.
She was older now. Stronger. Beautiful. But that flame?
Unmistakable.
How long would she last here?
She was… real. And Luke couldn’t remember the last time he’d met someone who wasn’t trying to impress him.
“I’ll get back to you,” he said, leaning back.
Claire nodded and turned to leave.
That’s when she saw him—Mark, on the other side of the room, half-hidden by a cabinet.
He was watching her, expression unreadable.
Something about her tugged at him, too. Familiar, but unplaceable.
Was she one of Luke’s girls? He wondered. No… too composed. Too distant.
Claire closed the door behind her and exhaled for the first time in what felt like hours.
Back at the Peters’ home, Anne was curled on the couch, watching cartoons. The medicine had kicked in, her fever already subsiding.
Claire sank into a chair at the dinner table, exhausted.
“You made it,” Mrs. Peters said, setting down a bowl of stew.
Claire nodded. “Barely.”
Elsa grinned. “I’m proud of you.”
They ate together, like family. Claire’s shoulders finally relaxed.
But that night, as she lay in bed with Anne beside her, her thoughts drifted back to the office.
To the piercing grey eyes.
To the silence.
To the spark.
In his penthouse across the city, Luke stood by the window, staring out at the skyline.
He should be preparing for the family dinner tomorrow.
But all he could think about was a pair of brown eyes that had once stood up for him in a room full of wolves.
Eyes that had walked into his office today.
Eyes like fire.
- Writer
