Chapter Three
1078 Words
Chapter Three
Ellie’s POV
I had to cut off the looping thoughts. Otherwise, I’d unravel before I made it to the office. Each step tightened the pressure on my chest. Panic surged. Now what was I supposed to do in the wake of what I’d just witnessed?
I couldn’t keep running. I had to keep my concentration. My thoughts continually looped around Sebastian. How did I miss the signs? I’d assured everyone was okay when, in fact, it was not. There was no turning back.
I might retreat to a hotel or the office apartment—Oliver had offered it the last time I worked late. I’d refused before, but now it felt like a lifeline—an option that, though exposing me, wedged me between Sebastian and Oliver with no clear path.
Oliver and Sebastian met for the first time last year at the Christmas party. It was a debacle—an ego clash. Each man sizing the other. Bizarre, yet that’s the way men like them tend to act. Alpha males cannot abide rivals. That evening, a buzzing electric charge coursed through the room. Still, I was sure Oliver had no intention of vying with Sebastian.
In reality, I’d seldom bothered with the office gossip. I was hired as Oliver’s secretary for my professional skills, not because of any aspect of my personal life. I was proud of my position. That I was engaged to Sebastian—despite the gossip—had nothing to do with my qualifications. Even so, I sensed that some people were implying I’d been fortunate.
Oliver wasn’t a bad boss. Strikingly handsome, still under thirty, and relentlessly driven—yet he had his share of problems. He dismissed several secretaries because of their inability to concentrate. I avoided that pitfall by remaining steadfastly focused. Still, working for Oliver was a demanding job. He expected a great deal from his staff. On the most grueling days, I mumbled “asshole” to myself, and it made not the slightest difference. I’d come to do my job.
Although Oliver tried to keep his professional and private lives separate, trouble found him anyway. Often I wondered—is it just the women he chooses? Every time he let calls roll over in the office, they seemed shocked. Oblivious that an office has designated hours. At others, I decided it wasn’t his fault. He’d simply picked the wrong women, and the resulting chaos was unavoidable.
The cab stopped at the office, and the knot in my chest tightened. I was relieved that flashes of Oliver’s romantic chaos distracted me from home’s turmoil.
I passed the driver his fare and slipped out. The phone buzzed once more, just as it had all through the cab ride, yet I still found I lacked the nerve to peek at it. As I ultimately glanced at my phone, an array of missed calls from Sebastian sat lined up in the notifications. Yet Oliver’s text arrested me: “Where the f**k are you?”
I let the text slide unanswered. Before long, I would be perched in his office.
The building towered over me as I glided past reception. I slipped into the restroom for a few moments to steady my nerves. I could do without anyone’s pity, and the staff’s least of all.
A step in my hand jolted my makeup case. I turned toward the mirror and found the poise it cast—cold and unwavering. Once I reached the house, the narrative shifted. There, each tear held no restraint. The dams splintered wide open. Here, I clamped them shut. No one would ever glimpse the shards of my brokenness—not after what my father had done to me.
I hastily touched up my makeup to conceal my bloodshot eyes and briskly raked a comb through my hair. It hardly qualified as perfect, yet it would have to suffice. Plastering a smile on my face, I slipped out.
On my way toward the elevator, I passed the reception desk. Holly, the front-desk assistant, sat ram-rod straight with her eyes wide. Ryan’s in a rage! All good?
I offered a wordless nod. She wore a sympathetic expression for a moment. Then it slipped away. I would make certain no one ever caught a glimpse of the turmoil that roiled my life.
The ride up in the elevator seemed interminable. The elevator doors eased open, and I burst past the reception desk and headed straight for Oliver’s corner office. I tapped on the door and, without pausing, slid inside. I was convinced he had no meetings.
No sooner had I entered than he spun away from the window. For one heartbeat, I pushed every other thought aside. The mere sight of him still robbed me of breath. Strange. Yet he still succeeded in exerting that effect on me. He occupied the room. The air seemed heavy. I felt inexorably drawn to him.
Even so, it wasn’t about me. Whatever my feelings, I’d come to rectify the situation, not to complicate it further.
Oliver spoke my name—“Ellie”—and the word came out evenly, laden with an incisive undercurrent I could not ignore. “What’s happened?” He spoke with directness.
I remained silent. I moved to his desk and set the file beside it. He let the file stay put and watched me with eyes that seemed to pierce.
“I’m sorry, Oliver,” I whispered in a shaking voice. I’d erred. I’ll put it right. I offered no excuses. The words clogged my throat; I feared I’d soon reach my breaking point.
I didn’t expect that. Instead of replying, he held my gaze and inquired, “Everything okay?”
That question landed a blow. He looked unangry—not at me. The expression on his face betrayed his concern.
His question caught me unawares. I hastened to wave it away. I nodded my head. “Everything’s fine,” I said, though the words clung to my tongue as puckered berries. I told myself he could cut right through me, yet I balked at confronting the truth.
Even so, he would not accept my reply.
He stepped back a pace, eyes sweeping over me. For a moment, I felt he could gaze straight through me. He sensed that something was amiss.
I was coming apart. I couldn’t say how much longer I could keep it together before everyone would see how truly broken I was.
- Writer
