In His Sheet

Episode 014

I picked up the stack of heavy, textured folders from the side table. My hands were steady—forced into compliance by sheer survival instinct. I stepped up to the table, moving silently from the back of the room toward the front, placing a folder gently to the right of each executive.

One for Sarah. One for the CFO. One for Clara.

Finally, I reached the head of the table.

Adrian was typing something into his laptop, his profile sharp and imposing up close. I could smell the faint scent of his cedarwood cologne, the same scent from that dark hallway at the Vance Estate.

I leaned forward slightly, placing the final folder on the polished wood next to his hand. "The third-quarter breakdown, Mr. Holt," I murmured, keeping my voice low, monotone, and entirely devoid of the warmth I had used with Elsie or Leonard.

I began to pull my hand back, ready to retreat into the shadows. Adrian’s fingers stopped typing. The sudden cessation of the clicking keys felt louder than a gunshot in the quiet room.

Slowly, deliberately, Adrian tilted his head up. His steel-grey eyes locked onto my face.

I froze, my hand still hovering an inch above the table. For a fraction of a second, nothing changed. Then, I watched the subtle shift in his gaze, the slight narrowing of his eyes, the faint tightening of his jaw as his memory clicked.

I froze, my hand still hovering an inch above the polished wood. For a fraction of a second, the entire universe seemed to stop spinning. Then, I watched the subtle shift in his gaze, the slight narrowing of his eyes, the faint tightening of his jaw as his memory clicked.

He recognized me.

Even without the makeup, with my hair pulled back into a severe corporate bun and a high-necked blouse hiding my skin, those steel-grey eyes knew exactly who I was.

.

The silence between us stretched, thick and suffocating, while Clara continued talking about budget allocations in the background, completely oblivious. Adrian’s eyes drifted to the left side of my blouse. The fabric was blank. In my rush this morning, the silver name badge had been left sitting on my bedroom nightstand. He didn't know my name. He had no idea a Mara Collins was even in the room.

Whoever is the giver of luck, I must be his favorite human.

A slow, dangerous curve touched the corner of his lips, a look of pure, predatory amusement that made my blood run cold.

He leaned back in his leather chair, crossing his arms, his eyes never leaving my face as he spoke, interrupting Clara mid-sentence.

"Clara," Adrian’s deep baritone cut through the room, making every head turn.

Clara stopped instantly, her clicker frozen midair. "Yes, Mr. Holt? Is there an issue with the projection data?"

"The data is fine," Adrian said, his voice dripping with a terrifying, quiet authority. He finally tore his gaze away from me, flicking it casually toward Clara. "But I prefer a less noiseless room when discussing the company's data. Have the rest of your staff step out. Except for this one." He nodded slightly in my direction.

A collective wave of confusion rippled through the room. Sarah blinked, her pen pausing over her notepad. Clara looked at me, then back to Adrian, her professional mask slipping for a fraction of a second before she recovered.

"Of course," Clara said smoothly, though I could see the slight tension in her jaw. She turned to the rest of the table. "Everyone, please take a ten-minute recess in the lobby. Leave your folders."

Chairs scraped back. Whispers immediately broke out in hushed, anxious tones as the interns and executives shuffled out the door. Sarah gave me a long, burning look of suspicion as she passed, but I couldn't look back at her. I couldn't move at all. My feet felt like they were cemented to the floor.

Within thirty seconds, the massive conference room was dead silent. The heavy glass doors clicked shut, leaving only three of us.

Clara folded her hands, leaning against the edge of the table. "Mr. Holt, if there's a problem with my assistant's performance—"

"Leave us, Clara," Adrian interrupted, his tone completely flat. It wasn't a request.

Clara froze. For a proud, powerful woman who ran the most reputable event firm in the city, being ordered out of her own boardroom was a massive slap in the face. But Adrian Holt held the purse strings to her entire empire. She couldn't refuse.

She cast a sharp, questioning glance at me, a warning flashing in her eyes, before turning on her heel and walking out.

The click of the lock behind her sounded like a guillotine.

Adrian didn't speak immediately. He let the silence simmer, watching me like a cat sizing up a mouse that had walked straight into its cage. He stood up slowly, towering over the table, and walked around the long mahogany surface until he was standing just two feet away from me. The scent of his cedarwood cologne wrapped around me, heavy and suffocating.

"I must admit, I didn't expect to see you again so soon," Adrian murmured, his voice a low, gravelly purr. "And certainly not under my own roof. Tell me... does Clara know what her staff does to supplement their income after hours?"

My heart was hammering against my ribs so loudly I was certain he could hear it. The trap was closing. If he told Clara he saw me with Leonard Voss, she would investigate. She would find out I wasn't just a "loose model". She'd find out I was a complete fraud who had conned her way into a contract.

I had to spin the wheel. I had to throw the only shield I had left.

"She... she doesn't know about that night," I blurted out, my voice trembling just enough to sound genuinely terrified, though my mind was frantically calculating the angles. I forced my posture to straighten, trying to inject a fragile, upper-class dignity into my tone. "And I would appreciate it if you didn't bring it up to her, Mr. Holt. My aunt has very strict standards."

Adrian’s brow twitched. A look of sharp, sudden interest crossed his features. "Your aunt?"

"Yes," I said, swallowing hard, praying to whatever deity was listening, that he would believe me too. "I’m Elizabeth. Elizabeth Monroe. Clara’s niece. I... I just got into town a few weeks ago from out of state. My aunt didn't want me sitting idle, so she brought me on to help with the firm."

Adrian stared at me. The predatory amusement faded from his eyes, replaced by something much darker, much colder. He leaned down slightly, bringing his face close enough that I could see the frosty grey flecks in his iris.

"Elizabeth," he repeated, the name sounding like a dirty word on his tongue.