⸻
JULIAN
She slams the door like it insulted her mother.
Not surprising.
I keep my eyes on the mirror, adjusting it even though it's already aligned. Gives me something to do—something that isn't looking at her.
"Seatbelt," I mutter, not checking if she's already wearing it.
"I'm not five."
"Could've fooled me."
That earns me an eye-roll so sharp I swear I feel it hit my jaw. Good. Keeps things familiar. Familiar feels safer.
We drive in silence. The kind that fills every corner of the car like fog.
She's angry.
At Kara. At me. At whatever version of the world told her she had to fight this hard just to stay employed.
And maybe she has every right to be.
I glance at her once—just once—and catch the set of her jaw, the tension in her shoulders, the way she stares out the window like it's her last lifeline.
She's not just angry. She's tired.
"You always mop floors like you're in a street fight?" I ask, trying to lighten the moment. Or maybe I just want her to talk. Hell if I know.
She shoots back without missing a beat. "You always micromanage women who won't flirt back?"
That one stings.
She sees more than I'd like her to.
I look straight ahead, bite the inside of my cheek. Don't smile. Don't react.
"I don't flirt with employees."
"Yeah, well. I don't date bosses."
"Good. We're on the same page."
We're not. Not really.
Because something about her has been under my skin since day one. Something chaotic. Sharp. Unpolished. Real.
And it's... distracting.
Dangerously so.
I don't know what's gotten into me. This girl and her friend practically destroyed my company. I'm still picking up the pieces. Our reputation's in shambles. We're putting out PR fires left and right. And it's not like we were thriving to begin with. We were just getting off the ground.
She and her friend ruined everything.
I should hate her.
I should make her life hell.
I ignored her walking all the way to the train station in the middle of the night, only to find out her train had already left. She had to walk home—alone, in the dark.
But I can't.
I can't ignore her. I can't make her more miserable than she already is.
Because as much as I'm suffering... she is too.
She just had her entire life implode. I can't bring myself to torment her for that.
But I don't forgive her either.
She knew I was innocent. But she still chose to defend her friend.
Still... I can't forget the way she bit her lip on her first day here.
It awoke something in me. Something I didn't even know existed.
I wanted to pull that lip from between her teeth with my thumb. Bite it. Taste it. Then scold her, remind her that I wanted to be the only one biting those lips.
Julian, get a grip.
"What were you doing at the office so late anyway?" she suddenly asks, pulling me out of the mess in my head.
Her voice is... soft. Almost melodic.
I clear my throat. Adjust in my seat.
"Just had a lot of work. With so many buyers pulling out—most of them don't even know the real reason—they think it's about the product. They're scared."
I sigh. My head's starting to throb.
"My PR team and I are trying to explain it without exposing everything. Took hours of back and forth."
I shouldn't be telling her this. But I want her to know what she and her friend did to me.
"Oh," she says. Her voice has lost its usual edge.
She sounds... genuinely sorry.
Silence again.
Then: "Maybe instead of trying to explain it on Zoom, send them a sample. Let them test the perfume for themselves. If it's good, they'll know you're telling the truth. No explanation needed."
I freeze. Turn to her so fast I nearly give myself whiplash.
"That's... brilliant. Why didn't we think of that?"
She just shrugs, looking back out the window.
We drive in silence.
When we reach Cora's place, she steps out.
"Thanks," she mutters, not looking back, and shuts the door behind her.
I sit there for a long minute, stunned.
Then a smile—uninvited but impossible to stop—breaks across my face.
She might be a spoiled brat who helped tank my company.
But maybe she's not all bad.
For a company-ruiner, anyway.
⸻
REGINA
I'm cleaning office windows, trying to distract myself from last night.
Why did I help him? Why did I give him advice?
Guilt, probably. Seeing him look so... defeated. Exhausted. Like he's carrying the weight of something I helped drop.
Maybe not alone. But I'm part of it.
Well—bright side—we've both been left in Sarah's wake.
Yay us.
I wonder if he took my advice. I did graduate business school, even if it wasn't by choice.
An employee walks over, asks how I'm doing. This happens a lot now. Ever since my face-off with Kara, I've become some kind of legend. People talk to me all the time now.
It's exhausting.
But I get it. Kara made everyone's life hell. Seeing her taken down? That was a dream come true for them.
So I smile. I nod. I play along.
Speaking of Kara, no one's seen her since she stormed out yesterday.
Not my problem.
It's lunchtime now, and I'll be damned if I spend it thinking about Kara.
I walk to the lounge, scanning for Hanna. She's loud, of course, laughing with her friends.
I hesitate—but she waves me over.
I grab a coffee and join them.
"Hey, Miss Troll Slayer! How are you this hot afternoon?"
I roll my eyes. "Troll Slayer? That's the best you've got?"
Hanna smirks. The girl next to me chuckles.
"What? You slayed a troll. It fits," Hanna says. "Okay, maybe it needs work. Anyway—this is Chloe and Cleo. Twins."
I blink. They look nothing alike.
They laugh. Clearly, they get that a lot.
"Hi, I'm Chloe," the girl next to me says, holding out her hand.
"I'm Regina," I say, shaking it after a moment's pause. Still masked. Still safe.
Cleo grins. "And I'm Cleo. Though I'm guessing you figured that out."
We laugh. They're cool.
Chloe's petite—short brown hair, honey eyes. Cleo's tall, with jet black hair and dark eyes. Total opposites, but it works.
Soon, we're deep in conversation. Nothing important. Just... normal.
Before I know it, the day's over. I'm heading out, tired but satisfied.
Then someone taps me on the shoulder.
I turn around, half-expecting Julian.
It's Mike. I've seen him around—marketing department. Bright blue eyes, dirty blonde hair. Good-looking.
But all I can think is: He's not Julian.
What is wrong with me?
"Regina, right?" he asks.
"Yeah, that's me," I say. News travels fast.
"Cool. Just wanted to say—you were badass yesterday. Standing up to Kara? That was epic."
I smile. "Thanks. That means a lot."
He grins. "Would you want to grab coffee sometime?"
He's sweet. But he's not my type.
"That's kind of you, but I'll have to pass. I've got a lot going on right now."
Better to let him down gently. He deserves that. And besides, showing up to a date wearing a mask would send all the wrong messages.
Then I feel it—that burning stare drilling into the back of my skull.
I turn.
Julian.
And he does not look happy.