Chapter 3
1651 Words
Elias pov
The meeting runs two hours over schedule because my father doesn't understand the concept of brevity.
I'm sitting in the conference room on the fourteenth floor, half-listening to Vittorio Moretti drone on about quarterly projections like anyone in this room gives a damn. Forty minutes of the same speech he gives every quarter, dressed up with different numbers.
I stopped pretending to pay attention around minute twelve.
My phone buzzes. Sophia. I don't bother checking the message. It'll be about the wedding or the venue or some other detail of the performance we've been staging for seven years. I silence it and go back to staring out the window.
Forty-two stories up, the city looks manageable. Contained. From here, I can almost believe I'm above it all instead of buried under it.
"Elias."My father's voice cuts through my thoughts. Sharp. Expectant.
"You agree, don't you?"I have no idea what he just said. Don't particularly care either.
"Absolutely."He nods, satisfied. Continues talking. Across the table, someone smirks. I don't bother figuring out who.
When the meeting finally ends, everyone files out with the appropriate amount of gratitude. Thank you, Mr. Moretti. Excellent presentation, sir. All the usual ass-kissing that comes with working for my father.
I gather my things slowly. Not slow enough.
"Elias. Stay."
I don't bother hiding the irritation. Just turn and wait while he closes the door.
"Sophia called me today."
Of course she did.
"She says you're avoiding her."
"I've been working."
"You've been working for seven years." He sits. Doesn't invite me to do the same. "She wants to set a date. A real one."
"We'll set one when it makes sense."
"It made sense five years ago. Now it's overdue." His eyes narrow. "The Rossi merger needs to be finalized. Her father is getting impatient."
The Rossi merger. That's all this has ever been. Two empires tyingare themselves together through their children. Making sure the money and power stay concentrated in the right hands.
"I'll handle it."
"You'll handle it this week."It's not a request.
I nod because arguing is pointless. He gets what he wants. Always has. Always will.
"Whatever's been distracting you lately, let it go." He stands, straightens his tie. "You have responsibilities."
"I know."
"Then act like it."
He leaves. I stay in the conference room for another minute more, looking out at the city, reminding myself that this is temporary. Everything is temporary if you wait long enough.
My phone buzzes again. This time it's my mother.
Dinner tomorrow. We need to discuss the venue.
I deletdeletedmessage.
_____
The office is mostly empty when I finally leave. A few people workiare ng late, trying to look dedicated. I used to be one of them. Staying until midnight, burying myself in work because it was easier than going home to the apartment I share with no one.
That was before I learned it doesn't matter how late you stay. The emptiness is still there when you're done.
I take the elevator down to the executive parking level. Stephan is already there, leaning against the car, scrolling through his phone. When he sees me, he straightens up and pockets the device.
"Evening, sir."
"Stephan."
He opens the back door. I slide in. The leather is cool and expensive. Everything in my life is expensive. It doesn't make any of it worth having.
Stephan gets in the driver's seat. Doesn't ask where we're going. After twenty years, he knows the routine. Office to home. Home to office. Occasionally to my parents' place for whatever performance they're staging that week.
We pull out of the parking space. The garage is nearly empty. Just a handful of cars scattered across the vast concrete expanse.
I'm checking my phone, deleting messages I don't want to read, when Stephan swears.
"Sir"
I look up just in time to see someone sprint directly into our path. Stephan slams the brakes.
The tires scream. But we're too close.
The front of the car clips him. Just barely. Just enough.
He goes down hard. Hits the concrete and rolls.
"Christ," Stephan breathes.
For a second, neither of us moves. Then training overrides shock.
"Stay here," I tell Stephan. Don't wait for a response. Just open the door and get out.
He's on the ground three feet from our bumper. Not moving.
I walk over. Crouch down. Check for obvious injuries. No blood. That's something.
"Can you hear me?"
Nothing.
I touch his shoulder. "Hey."
He flinches. Hard. His eyes snap open, wide and terrified, and I recognize him.
New hire. Saw him earlier on fourtthe fourteenthior associate. Someone mentioned it during the meeting.
"You're okay," I tell him. Flat. Factual. "Can you sit up?"
He tries. His hands slip. I catch him before he falls again, one hand on his back.
He's shaking. Full-body tremors that seem excessive for someone who just got clipped by a car going maybe ten miles an hour.
"What's your name?"
He opens his mouth. Nothing comes out.
"Your name," I repeat. Slower this time.
"Liam." Barely a whisper.
"Liam. I'm Elias Moretti. Do you work here?"
He nods.
"First day?"
Another nod.
That explains the panic. First day, gets hit by a car in the parking garage. Not the best introduction to the company.
"Anything broken?"
He shakes his head. Still shaking.
I stand up. Look around the garage. Empty except for us and Stephan's car still idling a few feet away.
"Why were you running?"
He doesn't answer. Just pulls out his phone with trembling hands. Shows me the screen.
A text. Unknown number.
I know what you're running from. I read it twice. Hand the phone back.
"How long?"
"Three weeks."
"You report it?"
He shakes his head.
"Why not?"
"I don't…I don't know who.."
"Doesn't matter who. Someone's threatening you. That's enough."
He's still on the ground. Still shaking. Still looking at me like he expects me to do something about this.
I don't do feelings. Don't do rescues. I do transactions. Problems and solutions. This is a problem. There's a solution.
I pull out my phone. Dial security.
"This is Elias Moretti. I need someone to pull garage footage from the last hour. Executive level. Yes. Now."
I hang up. Look down at him.
"Can you stand?"
He tries. Doesn't make it.
I reach down. Pull him to his feet. He sways. I keep my hand on his arm until he's steady.
"Where's your car?"
He gestures vaguely.
"You're not driving. Stephan will take you home.”
"I can…”
"You can barely stand. You're not driving."
It's not a suggestion.
I walk him to the car. Open the back door. He hesitates.
"Get in or don't. I have places to be."
He gets in.
I walk around to the other side. Slide in next to him. He presses himself against the opposite door like, asght bite.
"Address," I tell him.
He gives it. Twenty minutes from here.
"Stephan. You heard him."
"Yes, sir."
We pull out of the garage. Into the night. The city slides past the windows and neither of us speaks.
I glance at him once. He's staring straight ahead, hands clenched in his lap, breathing too fast.
There's something about him that irritates me. Something fragile and broken that makes me want to look away.
I almost hit him. That's a liability. A potential lawsuit. A problem that needs managing.
That's all this is.
Management.
I pull out my phone. Send a message to legal. Need someone to handle a potential incident. Details tomorrow.
Done.
I look at him again. He's still shaking.
Three years ago, there was someone else who shook like that. Someone else who looked at me with eyes that expected things I couldn't give.
Chloe.
She was a distraction. A way to forget about Sophia and my father and the life I didn't choose but couldn't escape. For a few months, she made things bearable.
Then she made things complicated.
So I ended it. Quick. Clean. A phone call that lasted less than five minutes because I had meetings and she had become inconvenient.
Three weeks later, she was dead.
The guilt lasted about as long as it took to read the police report. Suicide. Self-inflicted. Personal crisis. Case closed.
I went to the funeral. Stood in the back. Left before anyone noticed.
That's what you do with distractions that become problems. You contain them. Move on. Don't look back.
This Liam Hart is another distraction. Another problem waiting to happen.
I should drop him off at his apartment and forget this ever occurred.
But something about the way he's sitting there, trying not to take up space, trying not to exist too loudly It reminds me of her. And I didn't save her.
"Security will pull the footage," I hear myself say. "If someone's been following you, we'll know by tomorrow."
He doesn't respond. Just nods slightly.
"Do you know anyone you can call? Someone who can stay with you tonight?"
"I'm fine."
"That wasn't the question."
Silence.
Fine. Not my problem.
We pull up to his building. Not terrible. Not great. The kind of place a junior associate can afford.
"This is you," I say.
He doesn't move.
"Liam. You're home."
He looks at me then. Really looks at me. And there's something in his eyes that I can't quite read. Something that makes my chest feel tight in a way I don't appreciate.
"Thank you," he says quietly. "For…for everything."
I don't know what to say to that. So I don't say anything.
He gets out of the car. Closes the door carefully. Walks toward his building without looking back.
Stephan pulls away from the curb.
"Home, sir?"
"Yeah."
I watch the building disappear in the side mirror. Watch him disappear.
That should be the end of it.
It should be.
But something tells me it won't be.
- Writer
