Ethel's POV
I'd spent all morning psyching myself up for this. The quarterly analysis was my best work—thorough, insightful, backed by solid data.
Jake had even commented that I'd "crushed it," which coming from him was basically a standing ovation.
"You got this," I muttered to myself in the elevator, clutching the file folder like a security blanket. "Just hand it to whoever's up there, smile professionally, and get out."
The executive floor was intimidating in a way the eighth floor wasn't. Everything was sleeker, more expensive, more... important. The carpet was thicker. The art on the walls was actually good instead of generic office prints.
Patricia, the executive assistant who'd been here longer than most of the building, glanced up when I approached her desk. "You must be from marketing. Quarterly analysis?"
"Yes, ma'am. Ethel Martinez."
"Mr. Romano's expecting it. Go on in." She gestured to the massive oak door behind her.
My stomach did a weird flip at the mention of the name Romano. The man who owned this entire company, whose family name was literally on the building.
I'd never met him—he was the kind of executive who existed in company emails and quarterly town halls broadcast to all floors.
I knocked twice, heard a deep "Come in," and pushed open the door.
The office was exactly what you'd expect—massive windows, expensive furniture, that whole power executive aesthetic. A man stood with his back to me, looking out at the city view, holding a glass of what was probably very expensive alcohol.
"Quarterly analysis from marketing," I said to his back, proud that my voice sounded steady and professional. He suddenly turned around and my words trailed off.
Louis? The guy from the club? The one-night stand I'd been replaying in my head for three days like some kind of romantic movie highlight reel.
Except he wasn't "Louis the mysterious hot guy I met at Eclipse." He was Louis Romano. As in, my boss's boss's boss. As in, the man who literally owned this company and could fire me with a snap of his fingers.
"Oh my god," I breathed as i tugged at my shirt. It was damn hot in here.
His expression mirrored my shock—eyes widening, the glass in his hand frozen halfway to his mouth. For about three seconds, we just stared at each other like two people who'd walked into the wrong movie.
Then his face smoothed into professional neutrality so fast I almost wondered if I'd imagined his surprise. Almost.
"Ms. Martinez." His voice was different from the club—cooler, more distant. CEO voice, not the warm rumble that had whispered in my ear three nights ago. "The quarterly analysis."
Right. Professional. I could do professional. I absolutely could not think about how those hands had—
"Yes. Here." I crossed the office on legs that felt disconnected from my body and set the folder on his desk. "Everything's in there. Charts, data analysis, projections for next quarter. It's all very thorough."
I was babbling. Why was I babbling?
Louis—Mr. Romano, oh god, I had to call him Mr. Romano now. He picked up the folder and flipped it open. His eyes scanned the first page with the same focused intensity I remembered from the club, except now it was directed at Excel spreadsheets instead of me.
"This looks comprehensive," he said after a moment. "Good work Miss Ethel Martinez."
"Thank you." I should leave. I needed to leave.
Every second I stood here was another second my brain could short-circuit and say something incredibly inappropriate. "If there's nothing else—"
"Wait." He set down the folder, his dark eyes meeting mine. "Ethel, we should—"
The door burst open behind me, and I jumped like I'd been caught doing something illegal.
"Mr. Romano, I am so sorry to interrupt," A woman I recognized from accounting stood in the doorway, looking flustered. Miranda something.
She had that predatory look some women got around powerful men, all false eyelashes and calculated smiles. "But I have those budget reports you requested, and I thought you'd want them immediately since the meeting's been moved up."
Her gaze flicked between Louis and me, lingering on me with thinly veiled curiosity and something that looked like calculation.
"Of course," Louis said smoothly, his professional mask firmly back in place. "Thank you, Miranda. Just leave them on Patricia's desk."
"Will do!" Miranda's smile was bright enough to power a small city. "And Ms. Martinez, lovely to see you up here. We don't usually get marketing representatives on the executive floor."
The way she said it made it sound like I'd somehow overstepped by doing my actual job.
"Just dropping off reports," I said, matching her fake-sweet tone. "You know, regular work stuff."
"Right. Well, I'll let you get back to it." But she didn't move, clearly trying to figure out what was happening in this office.
"That'll be all, Miranda," Louis said, dismissal clear in his voice.
She left with obvious reluctance, and I seized my chance. "I should go too. Lots of work downstairs."
"Ethel—"
"Thank you for your time, Mr. Romano." I was already backing toward the door. "I'll email if there are any questions about the analysis."
I practically fled before he could say anything else, my heart hammering so hard I thought it might burst out of my chest. The elevator ride down felt like the longest eight floors of my life.
Back at my desk.....
I collapsed into my chair and pressed my palms against my eyes. Okay. Okay. This was fine. This was totally fine. I'd just discovered that my one-night stand was my boss. My incredibly powerful, incredibly wealthy, incredibly good-in-bed boss.
This was a disaster.
My phone buzzed with a text from Althea: "How'd it go? Did you meet the mysterious CEO?"
I stared at the message. Should Itell her? Althea was my best friend—I told her everything. But the thought of her inevitable teasing, combined with the very real possibility that this could somehow get out and ruin my career, made me hesitate.
No. Better to keep this quiet. Pretend it never happened. Louis ehmm Mr. Romano would probably want the same thing. We were adults so we could handle this professionally.
I texted back: "Uneventful. Just handed over the file and left."
"Boring! I was hoping for drama."
If only she knew.
"Ms. Martinez?" Jake appeared at the edge of my cubicle. "Miranda from accounting just stopped by. Said she saw you on the executive floor?"
Great. Here we go, more drama that i didn't like.
"Just dropped off the quarterly analysis like I was supposed to," I said, not looking up from my computer.
"Interesting." Jake perched on the edge of my desk, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Because Miranda seemed to think there was something going on between you and Mr. Romano."
My head snapped up. "What? That's insane. I was there for literally two minutes."
"Hey, I'm just telling you what she said." He held up his hands defensively. "You know how she is. Probably just jealous you got face time with the CEO when she's been angling for a promotion for months."
From across the office, I could see Miranda whispering to two other employees, all three of them glancing in my direction. One of them—Jessica from HR—was already pulling out her phone.
This was exactly what I'd been afraid of. Office gossip spread faster than wildfire, and the truth was so much worse than whatever they were imagining.
"There's nothing going on," I said firmly. "I submitted a report to my boss's boss's boss, like thousands of other employees have done. That's it."
"If you say so." Jake didn't look convinced. "But maybe keep your head down for a bit? Miranda has connections, and she's not above making someone's life difficult if she thinks they're competition."
He wandered off, and I tried to focus on my work. But every few minutes, I'd catch someone looking at me, whispering to a colleague, checking their phone. By the time five o'clock rolled around, I felt like I was under a microscope.
My email pinged with a new message. From Louis Romano's office email. Subject line: "Re: Quarterly Analysis."
My finger hovered over the mouse, heart racing again. This was probably just a professional follow-up about the report. Nothing personal. Nothing inappropriate.
I clicked.
"Ms. Martinez,
We need to discuss the quarterly analysis in more detail. Please schedule a meeting with Patricia for sometime this week at your earliest convenience.
Regards,
Louis Romano
CEO, Romano Industries"
It was Formal, Professional and Completely appropriate. Except the last line, in a much smaller font, almost like an afterthought:
"We also need to talk about the other night. Privately."
I closed my laptop so fast I nearly caught my fingers in it. This was going to be a very long week.