[ALESSIA POV]
The car smelled like leather and expensive cologne.
I sat as close to my door as possible, laptop bag clutched on my lap like a shield, watching the city blur past.
Fernandes hadn't looked up from his phone since we'd pulled away from the curb.
Professional. Distant. Exactly what this needed to be.
So why did the silence feel so heavy?
Twenty minutes into the drive, he finally spoke.
"Walk me through the presentation."
I blinked. "Now?"
"You've had four days to prepare. I want to hear it."
Right. Of course.
I pulled out my notes with shaking hands. "Hartman's primary complaint is delivery delays. Over the past eighteen months, 34% of their orders have arrived late. The issue stems from—"
"Don't read to me. Tell me."
I looked up.
He'd put his phone down and was watching me with those dark, unreadable eyes.
I took a breath and started again, this time without the notes. I walked him through the patterns I'd found, the vendor issues, the communication breakdowns. The solutions I'd proposed.
He listened without interrupting.
When I finished, he was quiet for a long moment.
"You found the pricing error."
"Yes. Six months of incorrect billing. I've drafted a credit proposal and formal apology."
"That'll cost us fifteen thousand."
"Losing them will cost us two million."
His lips curved slightly. "Good answer."
Something warm bloomed in my chest.
"When we get there," he continued, "let me do the opening. But when Hartman asks about specifics you answer it. Don't look to me for approval. You know this account better than anyone now."
My pulse quickened. "You trust me to handle it?"
He held my gaze. "Would I have brought you if I didn't?"
I didn't know what to say to that.
The silence that followed felt different. Less professional. More... aware.
I could feel the space between us. I could feel every breath, every small shift in his posture.
"Can I ask you something?" The words left my mouth before I could stop them.
"Go ahead."
"Why me? There are account managers with more experience. People who've been here longer."
He was quiet for a moment, staring out at the highway.
"Because you hung up on Harrison."
I stared at him. "That's... that's the reason you're giving me this opportunity?"
"You stood up for yourself. Most people don't have that courage.They let clients abuse them because they're afraid of losing business." He turned to look at me. "But you drew a line. That takes backbone."
"I almost got fired."
"No. You almost got promoted."
The words hung in the air between us.
"You're wasted in customer service, Alessia. You're smarter than that role. More capable." His voice dropped. "I saw that the moment you walked into the board room."
My heart was pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it.
"Thank you," I managed.
He held my gaze for one beat longer than necessary, then looked away.
The rest of the drive passed in charged silence.
Hartman Industries was a massive industrial complex on the outskirts of the city
warehouses, loading docks, and a main office building that looked like it hadn't been updated since the 1980s.
We were escorted to a conference room that smelled like old coffee and printer ink.
Gerald Hartman was exactly what I'd imagined: mid-fifties, gray hair, sharp eyes that assessed us the moment we walked in. Two other executives flanked him a woman in her forties and a younger man with a tablet.
"Mr. Woods." Hartman stood and shook Fernandes' hand. "Good to finally meet in person."
"Likewise. This is Alessia Davison. She'll be your dedicated account manager moving forward."
Hartman's eyes slid to me. Assessing. Skeptical.
"Ms. Davison." His handshake was firm. Testing.
I met his gaze. "Mr. Hartman. Thank you for meeting with us."
We sat, and Fernandes opened with a smooth acknowledgment of their concerns and our commitment to the partnership.
Then Hartman leaned forward, elbows on the table.
"Let's cut to it. Your company has been dropping the ball for eighteen months. Late deliveries. Poor communication. And now I find out we've been overbilled for half a year." His eyes locked on mine. "Why shouldn't we take our business elsewhere?"
The room went quiet.
This was it.
I met his gaze. "Because we're going to fix it."
"How?"
I opened my laptop and pulled up the presentation. "Your delivery delays stem from three primary vendors with poor performance records. We're switching to more reliable partners starting next month. We're also implementing a shared tracking system so both our teams have real-time shipment visibility."
I walked them through each solution, point by point. The credit for the billing error. The revised communication protocol. The performance metrics we'd track monthly.
Hartman interrupted twice with hard questions.
I answered both without hesitation.
By the end, the woman executive was nodding slightly. The younger man was taking notes.
Hartman leaned back. "And you'll personally oversee this?"
"Every order. Every shipment. You'll have my direct contact information. If there's an issue, you call me first."
He studied me for a long moment.
Then he looked at Fernandes. "You hired well."
Something shifted in the room.
"We'll give you three months," Hartman continued. "Show us you can deliver on these commitments. If you do, we'll renew the contract."
Relief flooded through me.
"Thank you, sir. You won't regret it."
The drive back was different.
Fernandes was on his phone for the first hour, but when he finally hung up, he turned to me.
"You were good in there."
"Thank you."
"Better than good. You handled Hartman like you'd been doing this for years."
Heat rolled down my neck. "I was terrified."
"He didn't see that. That's what matters." He paused. "You earned this, Alessia. I hope you know that now."
The way he said my name made my breath catch.
"I'm starting to."
We fell into silence again, but this time it felt comfortable. Easy.
I was staring out the window when I felt his gaze on me.
I turned.
He was watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read. Something between approval and... something else.
"What?" I asked softly.
"Nothing." But he didn't look away.
The air between us felt charged again. Heavy with something unspoken.
My phone buzzed, breaking the moment.
A text from Joseph: "How'd it go???"
I smiled and typed back: "We got three months to prove ourselves."
Joseph: "WE?? Girl, you're already thinking like a team 👀"
I glanced at Fernandes.
He'd gone back to his phone, but there was something in his posture, a tension that hadn't been there before.
When we finally pulled up to the office, he didn't get out immediately.
"Alessia."
I looked at him.
"Good work today." His voice was quieter now. "I mean it."
"Thank you, sir."
His jaw tightened slightly at the word "sir," but he said nothing.
I got out of the car and walked toward the building.
When I glanced back, he was still sitting there, watching me.
And for the first time, I wondered if he felt it too.
This pull. This tension. This dangerous thing is growing between us.
I wondered if it scared him as much as it scared me.