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ELENOR
She didn't sleep well.
Every time she shut her eyes, Alexander Wolfe's voice crept in — low, sharp, and maddening. That unreadable stare. That half-smirk when she said she didn't make mistakes. The way his gaze had lingered just a second too long.
She hated how aware of him she was. Hated that the memory of his voice was clearer than her mother's goodnight from the hallway.
By 5:30 a.m., she was already up, dressed, and sipping lukewarm coffee she barely tasted. Her body moved on autopilot. Hair pinned, blouse tucked, lipstick careful but not too careful. She needed to look like she belonged. Not like the girl he'd embarrassed. Not like the one who stood on a stage three years ago, fighting tears as the audience shifted uncomfortably.
Today, she was untouchable.
By 7:55, she stood outside his office door — folder in hand, heart beating louder than her heels.
She knocked once. A pause.
"Come in."
She stepped inside.
He was already at his desk, dark suit flawless, shirt sleeves rolled halfway up like he'd been working since midnight. He didn't look up right away.
"You're early," he said, scanning a document.
"I'm never late."
He looked up.
Their eyes met, and for a moment — just a moment — the air tightened between them.
"You'll learn to slow down," he said. "This place burns through fast starters."
"I'm not here to burn out," she replied. "I'm here to outlast."
That amused smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth again. She was beginning to hate that smirk.
"Let's see how long you last, then."
She didn't blink. "Longer than you think."
Something dark flickered in his eyes — not quite anger, not quite amusement. Just… interest. The dangerous kind.
She placed the folder on his desk. "Today's calendar. Your 9 a.m. meeting with legal was moved to ten. The Singapore call is still at two."
"You know this office well already."
"I did my homework."
He leaned back, watching her like he was waiting for the cracks to show.
But there weren't any. Not today.
"Anything else?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Not unless you want coffee."
"I don't drink coffee."
Of course he didn't.
She turned to leave.
"Miss Vale," he said.
She paused.
"Try not to prove me wrong too quickly. I like the anticipation."
Her spine stiffened. She didn't answer — didn't trust herself to — and walked out without a word.
She could still feel him watching her.
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ALEXANDER
He remembered her.
Not at first. Not when she walked into the office looking like she belonged to the building. Not when she said her name. But when she challenged him — eyes steady, mouth set with something between anger and pride — he remembered.
That pitch competition.
That girl.
She'd stood on a stage, voice shaking, presenting a business idea that was too big, too idealistic, too naive. He'd cut her down with one sentence. Not because he hated her — but because the world would've done worse. He remembered thinking he was doing her a favor.
And now here she was, sitting in his office, dressed in confidence, wrapped in calm defiance.
He didn't believe in fate.
But he did believe in timing.
And something about this woman… her poise, her bite, the way she met his stare without flinching… it stirred something he wasn't used to feeling in the office.
She wasn't afraid of him.
That made her dangerous.
That made her interesting.
He watched her leave and leaned back in his chair, still thinking about the way her voice dipped when she said, I'm not here to burn out. I'm here to outlast.
Most people who walked into this office either kissed up or crumbled. Elenor Vale did neither. She challenged.
And the fact that she was beautiful — effortlessly, infuriatingly so — didn't help.
He could smell trouble. And she wore it well.
He tapped his pen against the desk.
This was going to be a long week.
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