Everyone knows that the eyes are the windows to the soul, and I've stared into this man's eyes enough times to know that he doesn't have one. Or perhaps he did, and I was just exaggerating. All I cared about at the moment was keeping my job. My mind raced with all the possibilities of how this meeting could go.
"Have a seat, Miss Turner," he said, gesturing towards the chair in front of his desk. His face held no emotion as I made my way to the seat, although I couldn't say the same for myself. My expression probably showed just how anxious I was.
"Thank you," I murmured, my voice barely a whisper. An emotion flashed across his face, but it was quickly replaced by his usual impassive expression. He said nothing as I tried to look anywhere but at him, my eyes darting around the room to avoid his penetrating gaze.
The silence stretched between us, heavy and uncomfortable. I fidgeted slightly, my hands clasped tightly in my lap, willing myself to remain composed. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat echoing in my ears as I waited for him to speak.
Finally, he broke the silence. "Miss Turner, I have reviewed your records," he began, his voice as cold and detached as his eyes. "Your performance here has been satisfactory, but I expect excellence from my employees."
I nodded, swallowing hard. "I understand, sir. I will do my best to meet your expectations."
His eyes narrowed slightly, as if assessing the sincerity of my words. "Good," he said after a moment.
"What I don't understand is why you're working as a waitress, Miss Turner. Your résumé is excellent," he said, his gaze sharp and probing.
I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. "I... needed a change of pace," I began carefully. "After some personal issues, I decided to step away from the corporate world. The stress and high expectations were taking a toll on me. Working as a waitress at La Belle Vie allowed me to find some peace and stability, away from the constant pressure."
He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "You left behind a promising career for a job that, frankly, seems beneath your qualifications?"
I nodded, maintaining my composure. "Yes, Mr. Sterling. Sometimes, a person needs to find solace in simplicity. La Belle Vie gave me the anonymity and calm I was looking for."
I steeled my expression and chose my words carefully. I didn't want him to suspect anything.
He said nothing as he continued to stare at me, his cold eyes searching mine for any trace of deceit. The silence was suffocating, and I could feel my pulse quickening under his scrutiny. Finally, he spoke, his voice as cool as his gaze. "That will be all, Miss Turner," he said, gesturing towards the door with a subtle wave of his hand.
I stood up, my legs feeling unsteady beneath me. As I made my way to the door, I silently released the breath I had been holding, grateful that the ordeal was over. But even as I walked out, the tension lingered, a heavy reminder that I couldn't let my guard down. I hoped Mr. Sterling hadn't grown suspicious, because if he had, I might be forced to uproot my life all over again, a life that already felt barely worth living.
Outside his office, Iggy was waiting, her curious eyes scanning my face for any hint of what had transpired. "So, what did he say?" she asked, her voice tinged with anticipation.
"Oh, you know…the usual. He asked if I loved my job…all that stuff," I replied dismissively, forcing a casual smile. I couldn't let her or anyone else, see how rattled I truly was.
Iggy gave me a skeptical look but didn't press the issue. Together, we packed up for the day, our usual banter subdued by the undercurrent of unease I couldn't quite shake. As we left the restaurant, I could feel the weight of Mr. Sterling's gaze still on me, even though I was no longer in his presence.
It was a chilly evening as I left the restaurant, pulling my coat tighter around myself to fend off the biting wind. The streetlights flickered on, casting long shadows on the pavement as I made my way home. The city was winding down, the usual hustle and bustle giving way to the quiet hum of distant traffic.
I walked briskly, eager to get home and shake off the exhaustion of the day. My mind wandered to the mundane....what I'd make for dinner, the laundry I still hadn't done—until a prickling sensation crept up the back of my neck. I couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right.
I quickened my pace, my heels clicking sharply against the pavement. The sound echoed in the silence, too loud, too stark. I glanced over my shoulder, but the street behind me was empty, save for a few parked cars and the occasional passerby. Still, the feeling of being watched persisted, gnawing at the edges of my thoughts.
Maybe it was just my imagination, I told myself. After everything that had happened, it wasn't surprising that I was on edge. But the unease wouldn't leave me. I forced myself to breathe, to stay calm, but my heart began to race anyway.
I turned the corner onto a quieter street, one lined with trees whose bare branches swayed in the wind. The shadows seemed to stretch out towards me, dark fingers reaching across the pavement. I told myself to stop being paranoid, but the feeling of eyes on me grew stronger with every step.
I reached into my bag, fumbling for my keys, keeping my eyes focused ahead. My apartment was just a few blocks away. I could make it. I just needed to keep moving, not think about it, not give in to the fear that was steadily rising in my chest.
I didn't stop until I reached the entrance of my building, my hands shaking as I fumbled with the lock. I could still hear the footsteps behind me, closing in. My vision blurred with panic as I finally managed to get the key in the door, wrenching it open and slipping inside.
I slammed the door shut behind me and leaned against it, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. My ears strained to catch any sound from the other side, but all I heard was silence.
Slowly, I peered through the peephole, my heart hammering in my chest. The street outside was empty, just as it had been before. No sign of anyone, or anything out of place. But I knew what I'd heard, what I'd felt.
I stepped inside and flicked on the light, bathing the room in a warm glow. The apartment looked the same as it always did, dishes piled up in the sink, laundry overflowing in the basket, and the couch still sagging in the middle. But there was something else in the air tonight, something that didn't belong. I paused, sniffing lightly, and caught a faint whiff of cologne. Familiar, yet unwanted.
My pulse quickened as I walked towards the bedroom, the unease deepening with every step. I nudged the door open, and that's when I saw it: a single rose lying on my pillow.
I stopped dead in my tracks. My heart pounded in my chest, the blood draining from my face. The flower's petals were a deep, blood-red, and it looked eerily out of place against my faded sheets. I knew that rose. I knew it all too well. It was the same kind Daniel used to give me after every "apology," after every time things got out of hand.
My breath hitched, and memories I'd fought so hard to bury came rushing back in vivid detail. How? How could this be here? I reached out with trembling fingers, my hand hovering above the rose before pulling back. The petals were as soft as I remembered, a cruel reminder of the twisted cycle I'd escaped from, or so I thought.
Who had been here? How did they get in? My mind raced, trying to make sense of it, but all I could feel was the icy grip of fear tightening around my chest. The room felt like it was closing in on me, the walls pressing closer as the panic set in.
I took a step back, scanning the room for any other signs of intrusion, but everything else seemed untouched. It was just this one rose, lying there like a ghost from my past, mocking me. My legs gave way, and I sank onto the edge of the bed, the weight of the moment crushing me.
The safety I'd tried so hard to build in this new life now felt like a fragile illusion, shattered in an instant. Daniel. Was he back? Had he found me? The thought sent a shiver down my spine, my breath coming in shallow gasps as I fought to stay calm.
I grabbed my phone, my hands shaking so badly I almost dropped it. I wanted to call Iggy, to tell her everything, but what could she do? What could anyone do? Running felt pointless. I'd done enough of that already, and look where it had gotten me. But staying here, with this flower on my bed, was unbearable.
I needed to get out, to think, to breathe. But as I stood to leave, I knew deep down that this wasn't over. The past was catching up to me, no matter how fast or far I ran. The rose lay there, a sinister reminder that I couldn't outrun what was coming. And I knew, with a sinking feeling, that this was just the beginning.