HIS WORDS
880 Words
ELISE
I kick my shoes off by the door, loosen my tie. The city hums faintly through the windows, distant enough to feel unreal. I pour myself a glass of water. Sit on the edge of the couch.
My mind refuses to slow.
Ethan Hale wasn’t exaggerating about anything. The office, the pressure, the way his presence seems to bend the room around him. Every interaction feels deliberate. And today, I’d stepped into that current without being swept away.
I lean back, staring at the ceiling.
The way he watched me after I rerouted that call.
The whisky in his office flashes through my thoughts next—the dim lights, the quiet, the question he asked that had nothing to do with work.
" Who are you after work? "
I hadn’t lied. But I hadn’t answered fully either.
I think of the drive. The silence. The way the city blurred past while he kept his eyes on the road, jaw set. The offer to drive me home hadn’t felt casual. It had felt… intentional.
I rub a hand over my face and let out a slow breath.
This job is a probation. Three months. Temporary. I know that. Still, I can’t ignore the shift today. The subtle one.
Ethan Hale tested me. And instead of pushing me out, he adjusted.
I stand, move to the window, and watch headlights trace the streets below. Somewhere out there, he’s probably still awake. I finish my water and set the glass down.
Tomorrow, I’ll show up the same way I always do. Calm.
My phone buzzes just as I’m about to turn in for the night.
" Mom. "
I hesitate for half a second before answering. “Hey.”
“There you are,” she says. “I was starting to think you’d fallen asleep on your couch again.”
I smile. “Not tonight. Just got home.”
“Late day?”
“Something like that.”
I sink back onto the couch, letting her voice fill the space.
“So,” she continues, trying to sound casual and failing, “how’s the new job? You’re a week in now, right?”
I exhale slowly. “Yeah.”
“And?”
I picture Ethan’s office.
“He’s… intense,” I say carefully. “Demanding. He notices everything.”
“That sounds intimidating.”
“It is,” I admit. “But it’s also… fair.”
She hums, thoughtful. “Do you like it?”
I glance around my apartment . “I think I will.”
“Think?” she presses gently.
“I’m learning,” I say. “Every day feels like a test.”
There’s a pause on the other end. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, you know.”
I close my eyes. “I know. I just want to do this right.”
“I’m proud of you,” she says. “No matter how long it lasts.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Get some rest,” she adds. “And eat something tomorrow. You always forget when you’re nervous.”
“I’m not nervous,” I say automatically.
She laughs. “You always say that.”
We hang up shortly after.
I set the phone down and stare at it for a moment before standing, heading toward the bedroom.
Maybe she’s right.
Maybe I am nervous.
But it isn’t the job that unsettles me.
It’s the man behind the desk and the feeling that today was only the beginning.
Two weeks pass quickly.
The days settle into a rhythm—meetings, calls, quiet corrections, unspoken understandings. Ethan stops testing me outright. Instead, he watches.
The Rothman meeting lands on a Thursday morning.
High-profile. Glass-walled conference room. Executives in tailored suits and practiced smiles. Rothman himself arrives ten minutes late, which tells me everything I need to know.
I’m setting up the presentation when he finally looks at me.
“And you are?” he asks, tone pleasant but dismissive.
“Elise,” I reply evenly. “Mr. Hale’s executive assistant.”
He chuckles. “Young, isn’t he?”
Ethan enters moments later,the room adjusts around him. Rothman’s smile widens.
“Hale,” Rothman says. “Good to finally get your attention.”
Ethan takes his seat, eyes cool. “You had it two weeks ago.”
Rothman laughs it off. “Ah yes, your assistant decided I wasn’t worth your time.”
The room stills.
Ethan doesn’t look at me when he speaks. “My assistant decided you needed time to understand what you were asking for.”
Rothman blinks. “Excuse me?”
“You wanted reassurance,” Ethan continues calmly. “Not solutions. Elise scheduled this meeting when you were ready for the latter.”
Rothman’s smile tightens. “I prefer decisions like that to come from you.”
“They do,” Ethan replies. “I trust him to make them.”
Rothman shifts, clearly recalibrating. “I meant no offense.”
“Yet you offered one,” Ethan says. “We can reschedule again if that’s still unclear.”
Rothman clears his throat. “No. Let’s proceed.”
The meeting continues.
As the room empties, Ethan finally looks at me.
“You were right,” he said.
- Writer
