Chapter 5: If He Won't Choose Me
1626 Words
[ALESSIA POV]
Monday morning, I walked into the office with my head high.
Three months. We had three months to prove ourselves to Hartman Industries. Three months to turn their account around.
Three months working closely with Fernandes Woods.
My stomach flipped at the thought.
Professional, I reminded myself. This is professional.
But the memory of Friday's car ride kept playing in my head. The way he'd looked at me. The way he'd said my name.
The way something had shifted between us.
I set my bag down and opened my laptop, pulling up the Hartman implementation plan. I had supplier meetings scheduled, tracking systems to coordinate, and a full roadmap to execute.
My phone buzzed.
Fernandes Woods: My office. 10 AM.
My pulse quickened.
At 9:58, I stood outside his door, smoothing down my blouse.
"Come in," he called before I could knock.
He was standing by the window, hands in his pockets, looking out at the city. He turned when I entered.
"Alessia. Sit."
I sat, crossing my ankles, trying to look more composed than I felt.
He didn't sit. Instead, he walked to his desk and leaned against it, arms crossed.
"Hartman called this morning."
My stomach dropped. "Already? Did something—"
"He was impressed." A slight smile curved his lips. "Said you were the most prepared account manager he's worked with in five years."
Relief flooded through me. "That's... that's good."
"It's very good." His eyes held mine. "You exceeded expectations."
Heat crept up my neck. "Thank you, sir."
"Fernandes."
I blinked. "Sir?"
"When it's just us, call me Fernandes." His voice was quieter now. "We're going to be working closely together for the next three months. The formality isn't necessary."
My heart was pounding. "Are you sure that's... appropriate?"
"Probably not." His lips quirked. "But I'm tired of hearing 'sir' every other sentence."
I didn't know what to say to that.
He pushed off the desk and moved to the chair across from me. Sat. Eye level.
"I want to expand your role."
"Expand it how?"
"Hartman was a test. You passed. There are three other premium accounts that need attention. I want you managing all of them."
My mouth went dry. "All of them?"
"You'll have support staff, but you'll be the lead. Direct reporting to me. It'll mean longer hours. More pressure." He paused. "More time working together."
The way he said that last part made my breath catch.
"I can handle it," I said.
"I know you can." He leaned back, studying me. "But I need to know you want this. That you're not just agreeing because I'm asking."
"I want it." The words came out more forcefully than I intended. "I want to prove I belong here."
Something flickered in his eyes. "You've already proven that."
We sat there for a moment, the air between us heavy with something unspoken.
Then his phone rang.
He glanced at the screen and his jaw tightened. "I need to take this."
"Of course." I stood quickly. "Thank you for the opportunity."
"Alessia?"
I turned at the door.
"We're having a department dinner on Friday. Strategy and accounts team. You should come."
"I... yes. I'll be there."
"Good."
As I walked out, I heard him answer the phone, his voice shifting to something harder, more formal.
"Nora. This isn't a good time."
Nora.
The name hit me like cold water.
I didn't mean to slow down. Didn't mean to listen.
But I couldn't help it.
"I told you not to call me at work... No, we're not having this conversation again... Because it's over, Nora. It's over."
I forced myself to keep walking.
Not your business, Alessia. Not your business.
But as I sat back at my desk, that name echoed in my head.
Nora.
Who was she?
And why did the sharp edge in his voice when he spoke to her make something twist in my chest?
The rest of the week blurred together.
Supplier meetings,Client calls, and Implementation plans. I threw myself into work, trying not to think about Fernandes. About the way he'd looked at me in his office. About the woman named Nora.
Joseph noticed.
"You've been weird all week," he said, leaning against my cubicle. "What's going on?"
"Nothing. Just busy."
"Uh-huh." He didn't believe me. "This about the CEO?"
I shot him a look. "It's about work."
"Sure it is." He grinned. "You know, the whole office is talking about you two."
My stomach tightened. "Talking about what?"
"About how he personally assigned you to Hartman. How you're reporting directly to him. How you went to that meeting together." Joseph's eyes gleamed. "Lola's practically green with jealousy."
"There's nothing to be jealous about. It's just work."
"Baby girl, nobody believes that. Not even you."
Before I could respond, my phone buzzed.
Fernandes Woods: Friday dinner moved to Saturday. 7 PM. Rossi's. Formal attire.
My heart skipped.
Joseph leaned over and read the message. "See? Just work, my ass."
Saturday evening, I stood in front of my closet in a panic.
Formal attire.
What did that even mean? A cocktail dress? A suit? Something in between?
I finally settled on a black dress—simple, elegant, with a modest neckline but a fitted silhouette that actually made me feel confident.
When I arrived at Rossi's, I understood why it was called formal.
The restaurant was beautiful—dim lighting, white tablecloths, expensive wine, the kind of place where every dish cost more than my weekly grocery bill.
I spotted the group immediately. Six people at a large table near the back.
Fernandes stood when he saw me.
He was wearing a dark suit, no tie, the top button of his shirt undone. He looked... God, he looked unfairly good.
"Alessia." His eyes swept over me briefly. "You made it."
"Yes. Sorry if I'm late."
"You're right on time."
He pulled out the chair next to him.
Next to him.
Not across. Not at the other end.
Right beside him.
I sat, hyper-aware of how close he was. How I could smell his cologne. How our arms were almost touching on the armrest between us.
He introduced me to the others—department heads, senior account managers, people who'd been with the company for years.
They were polite, but I could feel their assessment. Their curiosity.
The new girl. The one reporting directly to the CEO.
Dinner was a blur of courses I barely tasted and conversations I only half-followed.
Because all I could focus on was Fernandes.
The way he leaned slightly toward me when he spoke.
The way his hand brushed mine when he reached for his wine glass.
The way he laughed at something I said—a real laugh, not the controlled CEO version.
Halfway through dinner, his phone buzzed.
He glanced at it, and his whole demeanor changed. His jaw tightened. His eyes went cold.
He stood abruptly. "Excuse me."
He walked toward the exit, phone already at his ear.
I watched him go, my chest tight with something I didn't want to name.
One of the account managers, Maria, leaned toward me. "Don't worry about him. He's been tense lately."
"Is everything okay?"
She hesitated. "It's personal stuff. His ex-fiancée won't leave him alone."
Ex-fiancée.
Nora.
"They were supposed to get married?" I asked, trying to sound casual.
"Family arrangement. But she cheated, and he called it off months ago. Now she's trying to win him back." Maria shook her head. "It's messy."
My stomach twisted.
Fernandes returned ten minutes later, his expression carefully neutral.
"Sorry about that," he said, sitting back down beside me.
"Everything okay?" I asked quietly.
He looked at me, and for a moment, I saw something raw in his eyes.
"It will be."
The rest of dinner passed quickly. By the time dessert arrived, I'd almost forgotten about the phone call.
Almost.
When the check came, Fernandes insisted on covering it.
"Company dinner," he said when I tried to protest.
People started leaving, saying their goodbyes.
Soon, it was just the two of us.
"Can I drive you home?" he asked.
My heart stuttered. "I... I drove here."
"Right." He looked almost disappointed. "Of course."
We walked out together into the cool night air.
The parking lot was nearly empty now, just a few cars scattered under the streetlights.
We reached my car first.
"Thank you for inviting me tonight," I said, fumbling with my keys.
"Thank you for coming." He paused. "You impressed them."
"I didn't do anything."
"You were yourself. That's enough."
We stood there, neither of us moving.
The air felt heavy. Charged.
"Alessia..."
"Yes?"
He stepped closer.
My breath caught.
We were inches apart now. Close enough that I could see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes. Close enough to feel the warmth radiating from him.
"I shouldn't..." he started.
"Shouldn't what?"
His eyes dropped to my lips.
My heart was pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it.
"This," he said quietly. "I shouldn't want this."
But he didn't move away.
Neither did I.
The world narrowed to just us. Just this moment.
His hand lifted slowly, his fingers brushing my cheek.
I stopped breathing.
"Tell me to stop Alessia," he whispered.
I couldn't.
He leaned closer.
Closer.
Until—
His phone rang.
Loud and Harsh. Shattering the moment.
He pulled back sharply, his jaw clenching as he grabbed his phone.
He glanced at the screen, and I saw the name.
Nora.
Something cold settled in my chest.
"I should go," I said quickly, unlocking my car.
"Alessia—"
"Goodnight, Mr. Woods."
I got in my car and drove away before I could see his reaction.
Before I could do something stupid.
Like crying. .
- Writer
