Somehow, by some miracle, I had managed to avoid Leo's eyes.
But I knew this luck wouldn't last forever.
Eventually, I'd have to face him.
Maybe I should just quit? Disappear? Change my name? Sell mangoes on a beach somewhere?
My phone buzzed. I flipped it over—and immediately flipped it back.
My landlord.
A painful reminder that rent still exists and that quitting my job would just mean sleeping under a bridge. Cute thought, though.
I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to untangle a solution from the mess in my head.
"Hey, Jake…"
A voice cut through my panic. I looked up from behind my desk.
"Our new boss is meeting with every department personally, so he's asked each department director to report to him."
Pause.
"Our director wants you to go instead."
"Why me?"
The panic in my voice could've been heard from space.
"He said you're the only one who can handle the pressure... and honestly, you've done most of the project work anyway."
"But I'm busy right now—"
"Here's the report."
He placed the folder on my desk like it was a death sentence.
"The meeting's in fifteen minutes. Good luck!"
And then he ran. Like he was escaping an actual warzone.
I stared at the folder.
Oh, I knew what this was.
They were sacrificing me.
Throwing me to the wolves.
I was the helpless fish they'd hooked to the net—and now they were just watching from a safe distance while I got eaten alive.
"Hey. It's your turn now."
An unfamiliar voice echoed directly into my soul—okay, maybe just my eardrums, but it felt dramatic.
"The boss is waiting inside."
Wait—what?
Fifteen minutes already passed?
When?
How?
I hadn't prepared anything. I hadn't even read the file. I was still emotionally spiraling and now I was supposed to walk into a meeting with him?
"Can I come later?" I asked the assistant, panic sharpening my voice. "I haven't read the file yet."
He shook his head.
"Your department is the last one. You need to go in now."
So that was a no.
I got up from my desk, my legs moving as if they were being dragged into battle. We approached the door.
The assistant cracked it open just enough for me to get a glimpse of Leo.
There he was.
Sitting behind a massive desk.
Looking calm.
Looking stupidly handsome.
And completely unaware of the internal tornado brewing inside me.
Then the door opened fully—and there was no escape.
I stepped inside, slowly making my way to his desk. My voice barely worked.
"Good afternoon, sir," I mumbled, eyes low, praying he wouldn't recognize me.
But he didn't even look up from his computer.
Instead, he said—casually, without emotion:
"Can you speak the way you did at the house?"
My entire brain short-circuited.
He remembered.
And not only that—he knew.
He knew exactly who I was.
"How..."
The rest of the sentence got lost somewhere between my brain and my vocal cords.
Then he spoke.
"How could I forget the voice, the face... the person himself?"
His voice was deep. Calm. Almost too calm. Like he had all the time in the world to make me unravel.
"I'm sorry," I blurted. "I—I can ask someone else to give you the report. It doesn't have to be me."
He stopped typing.
His hands rested on the desk for a second—then he stood.
Slow. Intentional.
Like every movement was part of a scene he'd already written in his head.
He walked around the desk and leaned casually against the corner, arms crossed, eyes scanning me—top to bottom. Silently.
"Did he show up again?" he asked.
It took me a second to realize he meant Alex.
"No," I said. "He didn't. Thanks to you."
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Well... I'm glad I could help."