Chapter 8
Alistair's POV
The printer hummed, churning out the stack of documents I needed.
Behind me, a few women from accounting were gathered around the counter, voices hushed but not that hushed.
"Lumel Evans is ridiculously handsome. Honestly, if I were single, I'd risk it all," one said with a sigh.
"Please," another scoffed, "I'd risk it even if I wasn't single."
They all laughed quietly.
"But did you see who he came in with this morning? Aurora Davis. In his car."
The first woman groaned. "Ugh, of course. Miss Perfect. She's probably already halfway to being Mrs. Evans."
"Do you know who she is?" a third voice chimed in. "The youngest daughter of the Davis family—yes, those Davises. Her father's that wealthy politician, Marcus Davis. They own half the prime property downtown."
"No wonder she's walking around here like she's on a runway," the second woman said. "She's got the face, the money, the connections—and now Lumel Evans on her arm? That's just greedy."
The laughter died instantly as the air shifted.
I looked up. Aurora had entered the room.
"Good afternoon," she greeted them warmly, her voice smooth as silk.
They smiled back—too quickly, too sweetly—like the conversation a moment ago had never happened.
Aurora's gaze drifted past them and landed on me. She walked over, heels tapping lightly against the polished floor.
"Alistair. Good afternoon."
I cleared my throat. "Good afternoon."
"How are we doing? Have you had lunch yet?"
"Not yet. I was going to after this," I said, motioning toward the printer.
"Perfect," she said, her smile never wavering. "Then I'll wait for you."
I blinked. "Wait… for me?"
The thought sat in my head for a second, impossible and ridiculous. Aurora Davis—daughter of a powerful political dynasty, effortlessly stunning—waiting for me?
"Alistair?" she called softly, tilting her head to catch my eye.
"Right. Of course. I'd love to," I said quickly.
Her smile deepened, like I'd just agreed to more than I realized, and she lingered nearby while I gathered my documents and headed toward my desk.
---
Aurora's POV
I could hear them before they saw me. Three of the office girls, clustered near the breakroom like pigeons over breadcrumbs, their voices hushed but urgent.
"…Lumel Evans is ridiculously handsome. Honestly, if I were single, I'd risk it all," one said with a sigh.
"Please," another scoffed, "I'd risk it even if I wasn't single."
I bit back a laugh. Lumel Evans — the universal office crush. It wasn't surprising; he was tall, good-looking, and far too aware of it. But then their voices shifted, low and tinged with something sharper.
"But did you see who he came in with this morning? Aurora Davis. In his car."
The first woman groaned. "Ugh, of course. Miss Perfect. She's probably already halfway to being Mrs. Evans."
"Do you know who she is?" a third voice chimed in. "The youngest daughter of the Davis family—yes, those Davises. Her father's that wealthy politician, Marcus Davis. They own half the prime property downtown."
"No wonder she's walking around here like she's on a runway," the second woman said. "She's got the face, the money, the connections—and now Lumel Evans on her arm? That's just greedy."
I stepped into their view. Three smiles bloomed instantly, sugar-sweet and just as fake. "Good afternoon," I said warmly.
They chorused back a greeting as if they'd been discussing the weather. I didn't bother addressing the elephant in the room. Let them stew in their assumptions.
I spotted the person I actually wanted to see — standing by the printer, looking like he'd just been caught between work and a daydream.
"Alistair," I said, walking up to him.
He looked up, startled. "Good afternoon."
"How are we doing?" I asked. "Have you had lunch?"
He shook his head, pointing to the printer like it had him trapped. "I was going to after this."
"Oh, okay. Then I'll wait for you."
His eyes widened — clearly, he hadn't expected that answer. I could almost see the mental gears whirring: Why would she wait for me? It made me want to smile more.
He drifted off into thought, staring at me without realizing it. I tilted my head. "Alistair?"
He blinked, apologetic. "Sorry—of course I'd love to."
"Alright," I said, feeling that familiar spark of curiosity again. There was something about him — quiet, guarded, like a book people kept passing over because they assumed it was boring. I had a feeling the story inside was much more interesting.
---
Alistair's POV
I followed Aurora into the cafeteria, my hands shoved in my pockets to hide the way my fingers kept twitching.
The place wasn't just a cafeteria. It looked like a hotel restaurant — glass walls overlooking the city, polished marble floors, soft ambient lighting that made even the cutlery gleam. The air was filled with the warm aroma of fresh bread, herbs, and something rich and savory I couldn't quite name.
Employees lined up at the sleek counters, tapping their company cards against a scanner to pay. No coins, no bills — just one quick swipe and the food was theirs. I'd heard the chef used to work at some five-star resort, and it showed. Each dish looked like it belonged in a magazine — grilled salmon with lemon butter, perfectly plated pasta, bright salads that could probably convert anyone into a health nut.
Aurora didn't even glance at the menu. "I'll have the risotto," she said, handing her card to the server with the easy grace of someone who was used to getting exactly what she wanted. Then she turned to me, her smile warm enough to melt through the nerves tightening my chest.
I cleared my throat and ordered the pasta, hoping my voice didn't sound as small as I felt standing next to her.
We moved to the seating area — cushioned chairs, tables draped with linen, and soft music drifting through hidden speakers. She sat across from me, leaning her chin on her hand, studying me like I was a puzzle she'd decided to solve.
It was quiet between us for the first few seconds after we sat down, the faint clink of cutlery filling the space. Aurora broke it first.
"So… is this your first time being a secretary?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.
"Yes," I said, a little too quickly. My brain scrambled for something else to say so I wouldn't look like some clueless intern. "What about you?"
"Oh, this is my first time working… ever." She said it so casually, then dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin in the kind of graceful motion you only see in etiquette videos.
I tried to mirror her — careful posture, precise movements — Raman would be rolling in laughter.
"I know, I'm an entitled brat," she added with a soft laugh.
"No, you're not." I replied too quick,"You don't look like one," I added nervously.
Aurora's eyes locked on mine, curious, almost amused. "You don't know me that well. Don't be deceived by what you see."
I smiled faintly. "True, I don't really know you. But I'm good at reading people."
Her lips curled. "Who told you that?"
"A good friend of mine," I replied. "And I can tell you're a fantastic person… not an entitled brat."
For a moment, she just looked at me. Then she smiled — the kind that made you feel like you'd said something worth remembering.
And then a voice I least wanted to hear today cut in.
"What's this little gathering no one invited me to?"
Lumel.
He slid into the seat next to me like he owned it, picked up my spoon, and scooped pasta into his mouth without hesitation.
Aurora's brows drew together. "You know if you wanted food, you could have gotten yours."
"This? I'm sure Secretary Grant won't mind." Lumel's gaze slid to me. "Right?"
I forced a tight smile. "Yes, sir. I was already full."
It was a lie, but I stood up anyway, hoping to end the awkwardness.
Aurora pushed back her chair too. "I lost my appetite. Shall we?"
I glanced at Lumel, who was still chewing like he hadn't heard her, then back at Aurora. She didn't wait for me to answer — she slipped her hand through my arm and tugged me toward the door.
By then, I realized the room had gone unusually quiet. People were watching.