Without saying more, Lucian turned and stepped into his office, leaving Scarlet behind with her thoughts and a rising whirlwind of emotions.
Scarlet let out a soft sigh, brushing her fingers through her hair in frustration. All she had wanted was a moment of distraction, a brief escape from her thoughts. Yet somehow, even a simple text had left her more wrecked than she'd anticipated.
"I should've known he'd respond like that," she muttered to herself. "Well, can't really blame him... it is work hours." Still, the sting in her chest didn't fade.
Pushing aside her emotions, she stood and made her way to the break room. Though she had climbed the ladder to become a designer, she had started from the very bottom—as an errand girl, fetching coffee and delivering messages. Over time, she had grown skilled at every little task, which oddly made small things like this feel easy.
A few minutes later, Scarlet returned with a neatly arranged tray—a cup of warm milk, lightly sweetened, and a small plate of snacks. She hesitated at his door before gently knocking. Getting no response, she pushed it open slowly.
Lucian sat behind his massive desk, focused on his laptop. The room was quiet, the soft tapping of his fingers on the keyboard the only sound in the large office as it rattled fiercely. His presence seemed to stretch across the space, consuming every corner of it.
Scarlet approached and carefully set the tray down. "Your milk and snacks, sir," she said with measured politeness. Still, she couldn't help the thought that crossed her mind. Why milk? And at this hour?
Lucian paused briefly, then leaned back in his chair. His eyes rose to meet hers, sharp and observant. For a moment, he simply stared. She felt his gaze sweep over her like a scanner—taking in her thin frame, the dark circles under her eyes, the stiffness in her posture.
"Scarlet," he said quietly, "what exactly are you running from?"
Her breath caught. Her hands trembled slightly, but she quickly balled them into fists, hiding the reaction. This wasn't what she expected, his question shouldn't have been what she is running from rather what is pursuing her? And the answer she had already prepared. "Everything, she wanted to say. I'm running from everything. And you... you're one of them."
But no words came out. She opened her mouth and immediately closed it. She hadn't forgotten she is just a minor assistant with no level to rub shoulder with him.
She straightened her spine, forced on her usual mask of calmness, and took a small step backward. "If there's nothing else, I'll return to my desk."
Lucian didn't say a word. He simply watched her, his expression unreadable, as she turned and began to walk away.
"Wait a minute," his voice came, cool and commanding. She froze, body instinctively reacting to his tone. She turned slightly, waiting.
He stood, picked up the tray with milk and snacks, and walked to the plush couch at the side of the office. Slowly, he placed the tray down on the small coffee table, then turned to face her.
"Scarlet. This way," he said with a small smirk, motioning to the couch.
Scarlet blinked, eyes narrowing. Her instinct screamed that something was off. That smirk—it was never a good sign.
She'd learned that early on because she had lost count of how many times he dis it and nothing ever comes out right when he does.
"Are you coming over, or should I come get you myself?" he asked, one brow arched.
Her throat tightened. The threat in his tone wasn't loud, but it was there, teasingly laced under the surface.
Scarlet hesitated, then reluctantly walked forward. Each step felt like walking toward a trap she couldn't see but could feel.
As soon as she was close enough, Lucian reached out, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her gently down onto the couch beside him. She gasped, nearly losing her balance, but he steadied her with firm hands and pressed her into the cushions.
Before she could even react, he placed the cup of milk in her hands.
"W-What are you doing?" she stammered, eyes wide.
Lucian leaned back, crossing his arms. "Making sure you don't pass out. Now drink."
Scarlet gaped at him, too shocked to move. Her heart was pounding. "Who's passing out? And who said I wanted your milk?" She whined inwardly.
Lucian didn't flinch. His gaze held hers with silent authority.
Scarlet knew better than to argue. He was still her boss, after all. As much as her pride burned, she couldn't afford to challenge him right now.
But the discomfort wasn't just about him forcing her to sit. It was about being seen.
The CEO's office was never truly private. People walked in and out constantly—secretaries, executives, staff bringing reports and some complaints. What if someone came in now?
She could already hear the whispers that would swirl through the company. By lunchtime, she'd be the trending gossip in the Sterling Group chat platforms. By morning, she'd be in the headlines of the tabloids:
"CEO and Assistant Too Close for Comfort?" Assistant xxx climbed the president bed begs for position..
The thought made her shiver
She stared down at the milk, her reflection barely visible in the pale surface. Her fingers tightened around the cup.
"I can drink it at my desk," she tried one last time.
"Here," Lucian said firmly.
Her breath hitched again. Why was he doing this?
Scarlet looked sideways at him, trying to read something—anything from his expression. But his face was calm, cool, unreadable as always.
There were too many emotions swelling inside her. Confusion. Frustration. And fear.
Fear of being misunderstood. Fear of losing her place. Fear of falling for a man who seemed to push her buttons and read her like an open book.
It is better to do this quick and leave this office before any one steps in. She took a slow sip of the milk.