Chapter 2 002
Rhea's POV
My hands trembled so violently that the lid on the coffee cup rattled against the rim, threatening to spill.
I stood outside the heavy mahogany door of what had once been Harlan's sanctuary, desperately trying to force air into my lungs.
Deep breaths, Rhea—just breathe. But my mind was far from taking that advice.
I knocked twice, the sound echoing too loudly in the empty hallway. There was no answer.
Taking a deep breath, I cursed under my breath and pushed the door open.
The room was already different; colder, stripped of Harlan's cluttered warmth.
Alejandro had shrugged off his jacket, draping it neatly over the back of the leather executive chair. He was hunched over a sleek laptop, his tie loosened just enough to look dangerous rather than relaxed.
The scent of him reached me; a painful sweetness of sandalwood that turned the very act of breathing into a choice.
It slammed into my gut, dragging up memories of tangled sheets and lazy mornings, but also of that final, gut-wrenching night.
I walked toward the desk, my heels clicking softly on the hardwood floor. I set the coffee down on a black marble coaster.
"Your coffee, Mr. Alvarez," I said, my voice sounding thin and brittle.
He didn't look up. His fingers continued to fly across the keys.
"The 2024 quarterly audits. I need them indexed by department, not date. Have them on this desk in twenty minutes."
I bit my lip, the sting of his dismissal sharpening into a spark of frustrated heat.
"Harlan usually keeps them in the digital archives under—"
"I don't care how Harlan did things," he snapped, finally looking up.
The impact of his gaze was a jump-start to a dead engine. Up close, his eyes were even colder; a piercing grey that seemed to see right through my skin to the panic underneath.
God, he looked the same: strong jaw, that subtle scar on his cheek from a stupid hiking accident we'd laughed about once. But this wasn't my Alejandro. This was a stranger in his skin.
"I care about how I want them. Are you struggling with the instruction, Rhea? Or are you always this slow to react?"
I flinched. The Alejandro I'd loved would have noticed my distress, caught my hand, pulled me into his lap, and murmured apologies for being short-tempered.
This man? He looked like he wanted to dismantle me piece by piece, analyze the wreckage, and toss it aside.
"No, sir," I whispered, my nails digging into the palms of my hands. "I'll have them for you."
I turned to leave, but his voice stopped me at the door. "And Rhea?"
I froze. Hope—stupid, treacherous hope—flared in my chest. I turned back slowly.
"Yes?"
He leaned back into his seat, tapping a pen against his chin, his expression unreadable.
"Make sure you fix your hair. You look like you ran here. I expect my personal staff to maintain a level of decorum that reflects this office. Don't let it happen again."
He dismissed me with a glance back to his screen. I hurried out before I could gasp, and leaned against the hallway wall.
I touched my chest, trying to still my frantic heart.
How did this happen? I was barely managing to keep my head above water, and the universe decided to hold me under.
Life, she's always been a bitch. Never content just to let me be.
I had only managed to forget Alejandro a fraction, and she brought him back to my doorstep.
"Rhea?"
Harlan's voice yanked me from the spiral. I looked up to find his kind, concerned gaze fixed on me, those familiar wrinkles deepening with worry.
"Dear, what's wrong? Why are you crying?" he asked, stepping closer.
I swiped at my eyes quickly, not even realizing the tears had escaped. Damn it.
"You're still here?" I managed a shaky smile, but Harlan wasn't fooled.
"Rhea, tell me, is something wrong?"
I let out a strained, breathless laugh.
"No, it's just... it's going to be different without you."
He chuckled softly, that warm, paternal sound that had gotten me through rough days before, and pulled me into a gentle hug.
His arms were steady, comforting, like a favorite uncle's.
"Oh, dear, you can contact me anytime. My doors are always open to you," he murmured, patting my back.
For a moment, I let myself lean into it, drawing strength from his kindness. But then the door to the executive office swung open with a violent creak, and Alejandro's voice cut through.
"What the hell is this?"
We sprang apart. Alejandro stood there, his arms crossed, his grey eyes narrowed in cold disapproval. The hallway felt ten degrees colder
Harlan cleared his throat, and straightened his posture.
"Mr. Alvarez, I was just—"
"Consorting with my staff on company time?" Alejandro interrupted, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low vibrato.
"This is a place of business, not a terminal for emotional departures. If you've signed the final transfer papers, your presence here is a liability. Move along."
Harlan's face flushed, but he nodded apologetically.
"Of course, sir. My apologies. It was time for me to go anyway."
Harlan looked at Alejandro, then back at me. He sighed, patted my arm one last time, and walked toward the elevators, leaving me alone in the shark tank.
I desperately wanted to chase after him, beg him not to leave me here with this monster wearing my ex's face. But I couldn't.
I had bills, debt, and a life that was held together by the thread of this paycheck.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I turned back toward Alejandro, ready to slink away.
But he was faster. His hand shot out, and his fingers wrapped around my wrist in a vise grip.
Before I could protest, he yanked me into the office and slammed the door shut behind us.
He pushed me against the wall and my back hit it with a thud that knocked the air from my lungs.
His body crowded mine. It was too close, too familiar.
"Mr. Alvarez, you're hurting me," I gasped, twisting my arm.
He released me instantly, and stepped back just enough to let me breathe, but his suffocating presence still loomed.
"Let's get a few things straight, Rhea," he said, his voice low and dangerous, like thunder rolling in. "If you enjoyed whatever cozy little relationship you had with Harlan: the hugs, the late-night 'meetings,' the leniency....that ends now."
I blinked repeatedly as the implication of his words caught up with me.
"What are you—"
"I'm not here to play house or satisfy some novelty trope of the hot, benevolent boss," he cut me off, his eyes dark with cruelty.
"You're my assistant, not my pet project. If you think batting those eyes or playing the damsel worked on Harlan, fine. But don't think for a second that sleeping your way to the top of a mid-level firm is going to work with me. I won't tolerate incompetence dressed up as 'charm.'"
The air left my lungs. He was actually saying it. He was accusing me of using my body to keep my job.
"I have been professional since the day I walked into this building," I quickly defended myself, my voice trembling with a mixture of rage and humiliation.
"Harlan respected me because I am good at what I do. Not because of whatever sick fantasy you've cooked up in your head."
I didn't raise my voice. I didn't need to. Every word was deliberate, a refusal to give him the satisfaction of seeing me crack.
He leaned in until I could feel the heat of his breath on my lips. He didn't look convinced; he looked disgusted.
"I don't care what lies you've told yourself to sleep at night. But know this: I'd fire you without a second thought, Rhea. And don't think you'd find a soft place to land. By the time you've cleared your desk, I'll have made sure your name is toxic to every firm in this city."
He stepped back, finally giving me air, but the look he gave me was worse than the physical pressure. It was pure, unadulterated disdain.
"Now, get out. Find those audits. And try to keep yourself professional—if you can remember how to do that without a man's lap to sit in. Keep your hands off the other executives on your way to the filing room."
I opened my mouth to defend myself, but the risk was too high. He had the connections to make good on his threat, and I couldn't afford to be blocklisted.
My survival instinct silenced my pride. I swallowed the insults, maintained a forced calm, and walked out of the office.
Alejandro's POV
I stood in the center of the office, the scent of her—the same damn lily-and-vanilla scent she'd worn since she was twenty—lingered in the air.
My hand was still warm from where I'd grabbed her. I clenched it into a fist.
Fuck, I missed her. I wanted to reach out and pull her back.
I wanted to see if her hazel eyes still turned gold when she laughed. I wanted to kiss her until the memory of that night was erased from both our minds.
But then, the memory hit me. The betrayal. The way she had shattered my world and left me to pick up the pieces while she just... moved on.
I shut my eyes tight, fighting the explosion of rage and longing in my gut.
I didn't buy this company because I wanted the assets. I bought it because it was the most efficient way to get to her.
It nauseated me how innocent she looked. Like she wasn't the one who had ripped my heart out and left it bleeding for three years. She thought she could just be a secretary and live a quiet life?
No. I was going to make sure she felt every ounce of the cold I'd been living in since the day she left.