Behind Closed Doors

Chapter 7

Alex Rodriguez had done a pretty decent job of pretending the scene in Sebastian’s office never happened.

He didn’t talk about it. Didn’t think too hard about it.

Didn’t picture the way Sebastian had looked afterward—tense, cornered, humiliated—as his ex-wife hurled accusations like knives across the office. How he had asked him to get out of his office. His blood boiled just thinking about it now.

He shouldn’t concern himself with Sebastian’s issues anyway. It was none of his business. He was just a paralegal. A junior one at that. Temporary, overworked, and still figuring out where the good coffee machine was.

But it lingered. Like the imprint of a hand long after it’s been lifted from your skin.

By Monday morning, the firm had settled back into its usual rhythm. Emails flew, phones rang, and junior associates power-walked through the halls with triple-shot lattes. From the outside, nothing had changed.

It was Tuesday afternoon when he finally had to break the silence.

The deposition summaries and client notes from the Curverland file needed to be reviewed and signed off, and Sebastian had specifically asked for them to be turned in before the end of the day.

So, he printed out everything—organized, tabbed, highlighted. He even triple-checked the signature pages, just in case. His fingers trembled only slightly as he walked to Sebastian’s office.

The blinds were open this time. Afternoon light streamed in, glinting off the glass and steel surfaces. The air smelled faintly of expensive cologne and stronger coffee.

Sebastian was at his desk, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, reviewing something on his laptop with military focus.

Alex knocked softly on the open door.

Sebastian didn’t look up. “Leave it on the table.”

His voice was clipped. Precise. The kind of voice one would use with interns and service staff.

Alex walked in, set the manila folder on the small glass table near the wall, and paused.

“Anything else you need me to pull from the Curverland archives?” he asked, keeping his tone neutral.

Sebastian didn’t answer at first.

Then, still without looking at him, he said, “You didn’t file the originals.”

Alex blinked. “I—what?”

“The signature page from the licensing agreement is missing. So is the letter of complaint that was drafted last week.”

Alex frowned. “No, I included both. I filed and scanned them this morning.” Alex knew his work was airtight and couldn’t understand why Sebastian was bent on treating him so coldly.

“You must’ve filed the wrong version.”

“I didn’t.”

That made Sebastian finally glance up. Slowly.

His eyes were unreadable. Flat. “Are you saying I’m mistaken?”

Alex opened his mouth, then shut it again. He swallowed. “I’ll check.”

Sebastian turned back to his laptop. “Do that.”

The dismissal hit harder than it should have. Alex left, blood hot in his ears, jaw tight. Back at his desk, he opened the digital files. Everything was there. Date-stamped, time-stamped, crystal clear.

So what the hell was that?

He printed the missing pages again. Walked them back to the office. This time, he didn’t bother knocking.

Sebastian looked up, eyes narrowing slightly at the intrusion.

Alex placed the documents on his desk. “They were in the file. Just like I said.”

Sebastian scanned the pages, flipping through them with clinical precision.

No apology. No comment. Just silence.

Alex waited.

When it became clear nothing more was coming, he turned to leave.

“You’re done,” Sebastian said, before the door even shut behind him.

Alex’s stomach flipped, a sharp cocktail of anger and confusion brewing in his chest. He made it halfway down the hall before ducking into the copy room just to breathe.

What the hell had he done wrong?

He hadn’t asked to walk in on Sebastian’s imploding marriage. Hadn’t asked for the tension. The heat. The almost-kiss. That moment in the penthouse that never happened but still lived rent-free in the back of his head.

He hadn’t done anything.

Except… maybe want something he shouldn’t.

He stayed late that night, going over research requests for the Curverland case. It was easier to focus when everyone else was gone. The halls were quieter, the city glowing outside like a distant promise.

He was about to pack up when he passed Sebastian’s office again.

The lights were still on.

He paused. Just for a second.

Sebastian was inside, alone, jacket off, sleeves rolled back to his elbows. He was pacing in front of his desk, one hand on his phone, the other clenched tight.

Whatever the conversation was, it wasn’t going well.

Alex couldn’t hear the words. But he saw the way Sebastian’s shoulders moved—rigid, like he was trying not to throw the phone against the wall.

A few more seconds passed before Sebastian turned and caught sight of him standing there.

Alex froze.

Sebastian stared at him. Not in shock. Not even with annoyance.

Just something flat and cold.

Then, calmly, he pulled the blinds shut.

Message received.

Alex walked back to his desk, heart hammering.

That night, he barely slept.

It wasn’t the work. Or even the argument he’d overheard last week. It was the way Sebastian treated him. He couldn’t afford to lose this job.

Yes, he wanted Sebastian as badly as he wanted breath.

But it didn’t matter. Because he obviously did not give a s**t about him.

And Alex?

He was just the paralegal with a stack of case files and a crush that was quickly becoming unbearable.

But he told himself the same thing every time he saw Sebastian now:

Keep your head down. Keep your distance. And for the love of God—don’t fall.