CHAPTER FOUR(UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER)
1192 Words
Natalie
The morning after staying late was brutal.
I had just four hours of sleep, but I dragged myself out of bed because I couldn’t afford to be late. Sophie was curled up, her textbooks scattered around her, headphones in, her small world of dreams untouched by the panic burning under my skin.
“Bye, Soph,” I whispered, tucking a blanket around her before stepping out into the Toronto dawn.
---
The bus ride felt longer, every pothole rattling through my bones, but I made it on time. Vanessa was already at her desk when I arrived, tapping away at her keyboard, her sharp eyes flicking up with a smirk.
“You look like death, new girl.”
I ignored her, setting down the neatly organized Peterson file on my desk, double-checking the final notes before Adrian’s meeting.
Vanessa hummed, twisting a pen between her fingers. “You think staying late will make you his favorite? Let me give you some advice: Adrian Cole doesn’t have favorites. He has employees. And when they’re no longer useful, he replaces them.”
I looked up, meeting her eyes, refusing to let her see how her words clawed at my confidence. “Thanks for the advice.”
She rolled her eyes, standing to grab a coffee, her heels clicking across the tiles like a warning bell.
---
At precisely 8:00 AM, the elevator opened, and Adrian walked in, sharp in a dark gray suit, the cold edge in his eyes back in place. He nodded once in my direction but didn’t say a word before stepping into his office, the door closing behind him.
The phone on my desk rang fifteen minutes later.
“Miss Brooks.”
“Yes, sir?”
“The Peterson file.”
“I have it ready.”
“Bring it in.”
---
His office was pristine, dark wood shelves lined with files and awards, the view of downtown Toronto painting the glass walls with light. Adrian was behind his desk, flipping through a document, his expression unreadable.
I stepped forward, handing him the Peterson file. He took it, eyes scanning the pages quickly, flipping, stopping, flipping again. Silence stretched, the ticking of the minimalist clock on the wall filling the room.
Finally, he looked up, meeting my eyes. “You caught more errors than my previous secretary did in six months.”
Heat rose to my cheeks, but I held his gaze. “Thank you.”
He closed the file, placing it on his desk carefully. “You did well.”
I blinked, stunned. “Thank you,” I said again, softer this time.
His eyes lingered on mine, something almost like softness there before his expression shuttered. “You’ll be assisting in the meeting with the Peterson team this morning. Take notes, observe, and don’t speak unless spoken to.”
“Understood.”
“And Miss Brooks,” he added as I turned to leave.
“Yes?”
“Get yourself a coffee before we go down. You look like you need it.”
---
The conference room on the 21st floor was a glass box overlooking the city, sunlight streaming in so brightly that it was almost blinding. The Peterson team was already there—three suited men and a woman in a sharp red blazer, talking in low voices.
Adrian walked in, the room shifting instantly under his presence. I followed, notebook in hand, trying to look smaller than I felt.
Introductions were made, business cards exchanged, the Peterson team smiling, but I saw the way their eyes flicked toward me, dismissing me as insignificant.
Adrian started speaking, his voice calm, firm, pulling attention toward him like a magnet. I scribbled notes, catching key points, the language of negotiations slipping into numbers, projections, and percentages.
It was like watching a storm under glass—controlled power, precise movements, the way he leaned forward slightly when pressing a point, the flicker in his eyes when someone tried to counter him.
And when the Peterson woman, Kelly, tried to brush off an error I had found, Adrian’s eyes cut sharply toward her.
“My secretary caught that discrepancy,” he said, his tone cool.
Kelly blinked, her smile faltering. “Oh?”
Adrian’s gaze slid to me briefly. “Miss Brooks, what was the figure?”
My throat tightened, but I flipped to the page quickly. “The amendment listed the start date as June 1st instead of July 1st, which would have advanced the payment schedule by a month, affecting the projected cash flow by approximately forty-two thousand.”
The room was silent for a beat.
Then Adrian turned back to Kelly. “We will need that corrected.”
Kelly cleared her throat, nodding quickly. “Of course.”
Adrian’s eyes met mine for a moment, something flickering there—a silent good job before he continued as if nothing had happened.
---
The meeting lasted nearly two hours, but when it was over, the Peterson team left looking rattled, and Adrian was satisfied. I stood, clutching my notes, ready to slip out quietly.
“Miss Brooks,” he said, stopping me.
“Yes, sir?”
“You handled that well.”
“Thank you.”
His eyes lingered on me, and for a brief moment, I saw something else there—curiosity, maybe, or a question he wasn’t ready to ask. Then it was gone, replaced by his usual cold calm.
“Get those notes typed up and on my desk before lunch.”
“Yes, sir.”
I turned to leave, but his voice stopped me one last time.
“And Miss Brooks.”
I glanced back, nerves tightening in my stomach. “Yes?”
He didn’t smile, but his eyes softened just enough to take the edge off his words. “You did well today.”
For a moment, warmth bloomed in my chest, battling the exhaustion that was settling in my bones.
“Thank you, Mr. Cole.”
---
Later, in the breakroom,
Mel found me clutching a coffee, breathing for the first time since the meeting.
“You look like you just survived a war zone,” she joked, leaning against the counter.
“It felt like it.”
She grinned, her bright blue eyes warm. “Word is you saved Cole’s ass in there.”
I shook my head quickly. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Girl, you did. Vanessa’s been telling everyone you’ll crumble by the end of the week, but I’m betting she’s wrong.”
I sipped the coffee, letting the warmth steady me. “I just need this job.”
Mel’s eyes softened. “Then you’ll keep it. I can tell.”
I offered her a tired smile, feeling the first flicker of belonging in this cold building.
---
As I returned to my desk, Vanessa shot me a look, her lips pursing when she saw the slight smile on my face.
She didn’t know why I was smiling.
She didn’t need to.
Because for the first time in a long time, I felt like maybe, just maybe, I was exactly where I needed to be.
- Writer
