5:SomethingHeShouldn’tKnow
1131 Words
Alessia was prepared this time.
Or at least, she told herself she was.
After their unexpected bookstore encounter, she’d spent the entire night trying to push Theo Lennox out of her mind.
She failed.
But this morning? New day. New war.
She straightened her shoulders, smoothed her blazer, and walked into the towering glass fortress of Lennox Industries.
Because today wasn’t just another meeting.
Today was the day she proved that no amount of arrogance or wealth could silence the truth.
And yet—
A nagging thought was tugging at the back of her mind. Not about the battle they were about to fight.
But about the way she had seen him yesterday.
That version of Theo Lennox who had stood in her father’s bookstore, holding a book that he shouldn’t have recognized. The version of him that had seemed—if only for a flicker of a moment—like someone else entirely.
That was the Theo she couldn’t stop thinking about.
And that was the version of him she would not see today.
~~~
The conference room was filled with people—attorneys, consultants, city officials—all seated in sleek leather chairs, their voices blending into a low hum of conversation.
Theo was already at the head of the table.
And this time, he wasn’t in a sweater.
The softened man she had seen in the bookstore had disappeared.
In his place sat Theo Lennox, CEO, untouchable, unreadable.
Dark navy suit. Crisp white shirt. Cufflinks that glistened under the recessed lighting.
If yesterday had been an illusion, then today was reality.
Alessia forced herself to meet his gaze as she slid into her seat.
And he was already watching her.
Like he had been waiting.
The meeting started.
Her boss, Edmund, seated beside her, introduced the revised plans and opened the floor for discussion.
Alessia wasted no time.
“The city cannot afford to prioritize luxury over history,” she stated firmly, her voice carrying across the room. “Your development proposal is reckless—demolishing an entire district that has been here for generations. It’s not just about buildings, Mr. Lennox. It’s about people, culture, and the identity of this city.”
Theo leaned back in his chair, unfazed. “You make it sound so dramatic, Ms. Sinclair. I assure you, we’re not erasing history—we’re improving it.”
“By bulldozing it?” she shot back.
A few murmurs rippled through the room.
His smirk deepened, his fingers tapping idly against the table. “That district is crumbling. Abandoned properties, outdated infrastructure, economic stagnation. What’s more beneficial? Holding on to decay or offering progress?”
Her jaw tightened. “What you call ‘decay’ is home to thousands of working-class families. Your ‘progress’ would displace them. You’re not offering solutions—you’re replacing them with glass towers they’ll never afford.”
Theo tilted his head slightly, as if amused. “So, what’s your solution? Let the city remain frozen in time? Keep things exactly as they are just because it makes you feel nostalgic?”
“I’m saying there’s a way to develop without destruction,” she countered, flipping open the folder in front of her. “Our team has proposed alternative renovations that preserve the district’s integrity while introducing sustainable growth. But I’m guessing you never bothered to review them?”
His gaze flicked down at the folder. The same type he had tossed in the trash on their first encounter.
He didn’t even look at it.
“No.”
Alessia inhaled sharply. “Of course not.”
Her pulse spiked, irritation rising. She had expected opposition, but the arrogance in his dismissal—the way he refused to even consider another perspective—
The words were right there, on the tip of her tongue—
And then—
A shift.
A tightness deep in her ribs. A whisper of pressure against her lungs.
Not now.
She cleared her throat sharply, forcing herself to focus.
Theo noticed.
His gaze flicked toward her—not at her notes, not at the discussion—but at her.
Alessia squared her shoulders, ignoring the sensation building up her chest. “You can’t just—”
She paused.
Damn it.
The sensation tightened. Not overwhelming, but just enough to make her breath feel off.
She gripped her pen tightly, forcing the feeling down, forcing her voice to remain even.
“You can’t just erase entire communities in the name of profit,” she finished, her tone controlled.
Theo’s expression didn’t change. But something in his posture did.
For the first time in this battle, he hesitated.
Just briefly.
Like he had just realized something he wasn’t supposed to.
And Alessia hated it.
A beat of silence.
Then—he smirked.
“Well,” he mused, “I hope you’re not losing steam already, Ms. Sinclair.”
A challenge. A dare.
She inhaled, slow and steady, locking her gaze with his.
“The only thing losing steam here is your argument, Mr. Lennox.”
For a flicker of a moment, something crossed his expression—something dangerously close to amusement.
But he didn’t push further.
Because he had already won something else.
Not the argument.
Not the project.
But a piece of knowledge about her that she hadn’t meant to give.
---
The meeting wrapped up. Chairs scraped against the floor as people gathered their things.
Alessia stood, rolling her shoulders, determined to shake off whatever that was.
She stepped toward the door, eager to leave—
But then—
“Alessia.”
The way he said her name made her pause.
She turned.
Theo was standing there, hands in his pockets, his usual smirk replaced with something else.
Something still too aware.
His gaze flicked—almost imperceptibly—toward her chest.
Then back to her eyes.
He didn’t say anything else. Just watched.
Like he was daring her to acknowledge that he had seen what he wasn’t supposed to see.
Her fingers curled around the strap of her bag.
And then—
A sharp knock on the boardroom door.
She exhaled.
Too sharp. Too fast.
The door swung open.
“Alessia,” Edmund’s assistant called. “There’s someone here to see you.”
Her brows furrowed. “Who?”
“They said their name is ‘Carter.’”
Her breath stalled.
That name.
That damn name.
One she hadn’t heard in years. And one that should have stayed buried.
She exchanged a glance with Theo, who was still watching her—still analyzing—before turning back toward the door.
“Thank you,” She quickly stated to the assistant as she walked past him, heading toward the lobby, her heart hammering.
Because if Carter was here—
Then something was very, very wrong.
***
- Writer
