CHAPTER EIGHT
Selene
I hadn't expected the first day of my second week to feel this heavy. After the whirlwind of my first week and the confusing yet fleeting kindness Charles had shown me, I thought things would settle down. But the opposite was happening.
As I walked into the office, it felt like every glance lingered just a little too long. Lisa, who had been pleasant enough last week, now kept her head down, not acknowledging me at all. A few feet away, another coworker looked up briefly—was that a glare?
What the hell is going on?
I approached my desk slowly, trying to ignore the uncomfortable prickle on the back of my neck. As I sat down, my phone buzzed with a message from Maya.
Maya❤️🔥:How's the first day back? Still feeling like the new kid on the block? ;)
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding and quickly typed back.
It's weird. Everyone's acting strange today.
I paused, then added, I don't know if I did something wrong.
Maya's reply came fast.
Maya❤️🔥: It's a new job, babes. Maybe they're just jealous. You mentioned your boss was kind of nice to you last week, right? Maybe people noticed. People usually look out for things like that which I find weird.
I frowned, my fingers pausing over the screen. Could that be it? But no, it didn't make sense. Charles' sudden kindness had been private, away from the prying eyes of the office. No one had seen that side of him—only me.
And now? Now he was my boss, Charles Stone. The man who, after one night of passion, had vanished without a trace—no note, no phone number. Just gone. Only to reappear as the CEO of the company I now worked for.
I clenched my jaw, forcing the memories of that night away. I pressed my pointer and middle fingers in both of my hands to my head in a pointing gun motion. Focus. There are more pressing concerns.
Hours passed, and I kept my head down, trying to concentrate on my tasks. But the silence around me was deafening. I overheard snippets of conversations—just fragments, enough to know that people were talking about something, but never enough to understand what.
At one point, I caught Greg glaring at me from across the room. When our eyes met, he quickly looked away, muttering something under his breath as he stormed past my desk. I frowned, a chill running down my spine. What is going on? Could it be because I came down to the general office for all secretaries to complete the task given to me? Do they think I was sent to spy on them and see who is actually and isn't doing their jobs?
The familiar ding of my phone broke my thoughts. Maya had texted me again.
Maya❤️🔥: Maybe you're imagining it. People can be weird for no reason. Focus on you, boo.
I sighed, wishing I could just brush it off as paranoia, but something felt off. The cold shoulders, the quick glances, the way people's conversations seemed to stop as soon as I entered the room dropping to whispers and side glances—it couldn't all be in my head.
As the clock neared noon, I hurried to finish up the report Charles had requested. I reviewed every detail meticulously, determined not to give anyone more reason to glare at me today. Finally, I sent it off to his inbox, breathing a small sigh of relief.
Just as I was about to relax, a folder was dropped onto my desk with a heavy thud. I looked up to see Greg walking away without a word. Frowning, I opened the folder and quickly skimmed the contents. It was another report, one I hadn't been expecting because I do not work for Greg and neither can he assign tasks to me even if working to understand the system here is part of my training. But I heldy tongue and said nothing.
But something stood out. Tucked within the pages was a note—short and vague, but it immediately set off alarms in my head. The handwriting wasn't familiar, but the phrasing…it felt personal. It was as if someone knew something about me—about my connection to Charles, about that night I couldn't forget. But that wasn't possible. No one knew. How could they?
My stomach knotted as I reread the note, the words blurring as my pulse quickened. I closed the folder and placed it on the corner of my desk, trying to steady my breath. It's just work. It has nothing to do with… that night. It has nothing to do with me. But no matter how much I tried to rationalize it, I couldn't shake the creeping suspicion that I wasn't imagining things and that Becca had something to do with it.
I checked the time and saw that it was past my lunch break, so I decided to go back to my actual office in the CEO'S quarter to give him the file he requested for. Next thing I know, I am covered in hot black coffee. How cliche. Couldn't whoever that is had thought of something original?
"Oh my gosh, there goes my coffee." I heard Christiana say. At least I think her name is Christiana except if she is wearing someone else's office ID. All the while, I was holding my shirt away from my skin because she just had to choose a scalding hot one.
I knew something was off. I should know better than to doubt my gut feeling.
"There goes your coffee? I'm sorry what? Run that by me one more time because I am sure your words should be 'oh my gosh, I am so sorry'" I glared up at her because she also had to be taller than me with at least 5 inches, give or take.
"What are you going to do about it? Report to the boss? Seeing as you work directly under him." The smirk she gave me told me she meant that quite literally.
I stormed back to my office, sticky and uncomfortable from the coffee incident, the note found in the files forgotten for the moment. Christiana's smug smirk was still fresh in my mind, and I clenched my jaw, suppressing the urge to turn back and give her a piece of my mind. Instead, I pushed open my office door, eager to clean up.
As soon as I stepped inside, I reached for the hem of my shirt. The sticky coffee had soaked through the fabric, and I needed to get it off. I tugged it over my head, too distracted to notice that the glass wall separating my office from Charles' had been switched to transparent mode.
I tossed my shirt onto the chair and reached for the wipes I kept in my drawer. As I cleaned the sticky residue from my chest, a strange feeling washed over me—the prickling sensation of being watched. I froze mid-wipe, and instinctively turned around forgetting I was shirtless.
My breath caught.
Through the now-transparent glass, I locked eyes with Charles. He was standing in his office, his gaze fixed on me, watching as I stood there in nothing but my bra. His dark eyes slid from my face down to my heaving, red chest, lingering there. For a split second, I felt exposed, but not embarrassed. Instead, I was oddly grateful I had worn one of my best bras—a deep crimson lace that complimented my skin.
Heat crept up my neck as I quickly turned back, presenting my back to him as I finished wiping the coffee off my chest. Get it together, Selene. The sensation of his eyes on me still tingled down my spine.
I had the common sense to bring an extra set of clothes, just in case something happened during the day. But I hadn't planned for something like this. I fished a clean shirt from my bag and slipped it on, taking a deep breath before I glanced back toward Charles' office.
The glass had darkened again.
I swallowed, trying to steady my heartbeat. The files he requested adjustments on were sitting on my desk, and I gathered them quickly. Straightening my clothes, I walked toward his office and knocked. No response. Odd. I knocked again and when there was still no answer, I opened the door.
His office was empty.
My brow furrowed in confusion. I knew I had seen him just moments ago. There was no way he had left his office without me noticing—unless he had some private exit, or a personal elevator that took him out directly. Just as I was about to leave, I heard the bathroom door behind me click open.
Charles stepped out, looking every bit the pristine CEO. His hair was slicked back in its usual perfect style, his tie straight, and his suit immaculate. Yet something about him felt… off. His dark eyes seemed wilder than usual, as if something primal simmered just beneath the surface. He was also adjusting his pants while spotting a noticeable bulge, which I should not be looking at.
"This is the file you requested," I said, keeping my voice.andd eyes steady and above waistline as I walked over to his desk and placed the folder down. His eyes flicked to my chest again, lingering for a fraction of a second before meeting my gaze.
"What happened to your clothes?" he asked, his voice cool and formal, though there was an undercurrent of something else.
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. "It was an accident. Something spilled on me," I answered simply, not willing to give him the satisfaction of knowing the details.
He raised a brow, his lips curling slightly. "Along with your other flaws, you're also clumsy. Impressive."
I bristled at the comment, feeling a flicker of irritation. But I refused to let him get under my skin. I straightened my shoulders, meeting his gaze head-on. "I'd rather be clumsy than whatever you are," I shot back, my tone just this side of playful, yet laced with an edge.
Charles tilted his head slightly, the smirk on his lips deepening, though his eyes remained dark and unreadable, he looked impressed. "I suppose we all have our faults, Miss Graham," he said, his voice low, calculated.
I held his gaze for a moment longer, refusing to be the first to look away. "That we do," I replied, my voice steady, with just enough edge to match his.
Without waiting for him to respond, I turned on my heel and walked out of his office, closing the door behind me. My heart pounded in my chest, but I felt a small sense of triumph settle in.
If he thought I was going to keep being intimidated, he had another thing coming.