CHAPTER-8
1135 Words
"Who's Mia, Luciana?" Madison's voice was quiet this time, a little hesitant, but the fire in her eyes hadn't dwindled. I stared at her, willing my pulse to slacken, willing the walls I'd built to hold firm.
"It's not what you think," I managed, forcing my voice into calm even as panic clawed at my throat.
Madison crossed her arms, her eyes boring into me. "Well, explain it to me then, because Finlay sure as hell seemed like he knew more than I did. And I'm supposed to be your best friend."
The tension hung in the air until I caved and looked away, heading into the kitchen to pour a glass of water. Madison followed me, her heels clattering against the floor like a chorus of accusations.
"Madison, this is not something that I want to discuss," I said firmly, clenching the glass so tightly I thought it might shatter.
"You don't want to, or you can't?" she returned, leaning against the counter. "Because if you're hiding something, it's only a question of time before someone - like Orla - uses it against you."
"Orla doesn't scare me," I hurled back, though the words sounded less than hollow. "She's just bitter and petty."
"And smart," Madison added, her tone pointed. "You can't keep playing with fire, Luciana. Finlay's attention is putting a target on your back."
"I didn't ask for his attention," I snapped, finally turning to face her. "And whatever Orla thinks she knows, she doesn't. Neither do you."
"Then tell me the truth," Madison pressed. "Because if you don't, someone else will drag it out of you, and it won't be pretty."
For a second, I entertained the idea. Telling her all. Inowing her in on the secret I'd guarded for years. But the risk was too big. Trust was precarious, and loyalty wasn't certain with Madison anymore.
"It's late," I said instead, brushing past her. "You should go."
Madison sighed, snatching her coat from the couch. "Fine. But this conversation isn't over."
As the door clicked shut behind her, I leaned against it, exhaling shakily. My phone buzzed again, but I ignored it. All I could do now was hope that whatever Madison suspected, she'd keep it to herself—for now.
Next morning, the tension from the night before followed me to the office. I kept my head down, avoiding both Madison and Finlay, but it wasn't long before he found me.
"Luciana," his voice called softly from behind me as I stood by the copier. "A moment?"
I turned, masking my anxiety with a polite smile. "Of course."
He gestured toward his office. "Let's go over the quarterly reports."
The excuse was flimsy at best, but refusing would only raise more questions. I followed him, acutely aware of Orla's eyes on me as we passed her desk.
Once inside, Finlay closed the door and leaned against it, arms crossed. "How are you holding up?"
The question took me by surprise. "Fine. Why?"
He leaned his head on one side, surveying me. "Last night seemed. tense. I hope Orla's comments didn't get to you."
"Of course not," I lied, forcing a smile. "I'm used to office politics."
Finlay chuckled, easing himself down to the edge of his desk. "You're good at this deflection thing, I give you that. Still, I wasn't born yesterday, Luciana. Something's bothering you."
I shrugged off and looked away, tightening my fingers around the folder in my hands. "If it isn't about the reports, I should get to work."
"Wait," he said, his voice softer now. "I'm just trying to understand you better. Everyone here talks about work, deadlines, profits-but you. you're different."
I frowned, meeting his gaze. "Different how?"
"I don't know yet," he admitted, a small smile playing on his lips. "But I'd like to find out."
My heart stuttered, and I quickly stood. "If that's all, Mr. Hayes-"
"Finlay," he corrected, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
"Mr. Hayes," I said again, fighting against the flush working its way up my chest. "I'll get those reports to you by end of day."
The rest of the day passed in a blur of meetings and strained interactions. Madison barely spoke to me, her smiles forced, her words clipped. And Orla. Orla was in her element, her smirks and veiled comments slicing through the office like knives.
By evening, I was exhausted. I'd hung around late to complete my work in the hopes that I might avoid further confrontation. But as I began gathering my things, Finlay appeared in the doorway.
"Still here?" he asked, his tone light.
"Just finishing up," I said, shutting my laptop and putting it into my bag.
"Let me drive you home," he said, shocking me.
"That's not necessary," I said fast, but he shrugged.
"I insist. It's late, and I'd feel better knowing you got home safe."
Something in his voice made it hard to refuse. I followed him to the parking garage, my nerves fraying with every step.
The car ride was quiet at first, the hum of the engine filling the space between us. But as we approached my apartment, Finlay broke the silence.
"Luciana," he said, his tone tentative. "I know I can come on strong sometimes, but. I hope you know I'm not trying to make things difficult for you."
I looked at him, not quite sure how to respond. "You don't have to explain yourself to me, Finlay. You're my boss, and I respect that."
His lips twitched into a small smile. "You're good at keeping boundaries. But sometimes, I wish you wouldn't."
The air in the car started to grow heavier, the meaning behind his words lingering long after he pulled up to the curb.
"Thank you for the ride," I said with a quick reach for the door handle.
"Luciana—" he started, but I didn't let him finish.
"Goodnight, Finlay."
I stepped out of the car, glad for the cool night air. But as I approached my door, a shiver ran down my spine. Taped to the door was an envelope, the edges fluttering in the breeze.
Frowning, I pulled it free and opened it. Inside were photographs—grainy but unmistakable. Me and Mia, taken from a distance. My breath caught, and my hands shook as I flipped through them.
Scrawled on the back of the last photo were three words that sent a chill through me.
"Tell the truth."
Behind me, Finlay's car was still idling, his headlights casting long shadows across the pavement. I turned, clutching the envelope tightly.
"Luciana?" His voice carried across the distance, concerned. "Is everything okay?"
I hesitated, my heart racing. "It's nothing," I called back, forcing a smile I didn't feel.
But as I slipped inside my apartment and locked the door behind.
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