Chapter 194
Elsa
Joseph sat behind his massive oak desk, his expression glacial. His dark hair was impeccably styled, and his tailored suit emphasized his broad shoulders. But right now, all I could focus on was the disappointment and anger radiating from him.
"Mr. Moonlight," I began, fighting to keep my voice steady, "I can explain—"
"Sit down, Hale," he interrupted, his voice like ice. He waited until I'd lowered myself into the chair across from him before continuing. "I just received a call from Mr. Jones. He's reconsidering our partnership."
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly desert-dry. "Sir, there was an incident outside—"
"I'm well aware of what happened," Joseph cut in. "Security footage captured the entire spectacle. Stone's assistant caused a scene, and instead of diffusing the situation professionally, you allowed it to escalate to the point where our client felt uncomfortable proceeding with business."
My fingers unconsciously gripped the sleeve of my blazer, pinching the fabric between my thumb and forefinger so tightly I nearly tore it. "I called security as soon as—"
"Ms. Hale." His tone was deadly calm now, which was somehow worse than if he'd yelled. "I've never inquired about your personal relationships, nor do I care who you associate with outside of this office. But when your personal drama spills over and affects Moonlight's business relationships? That's where I draw the line."
The shame burned hot in my chest, spreading like wildfire through my veins. "It won't happen again, sir."
"No, it won't," he agreed coldly. "Because if it does, you'll be looking for a new position. I hired you based on your reputation for professionalism and your connections with Stone Enterprises' clients. If those connections are going to cause more harm than good, then perhaps this arrangement needs to be reconsidered."
I nodded, unable to trust my voice, a muscle twitching involuntarily in my jaw.
"You'll forfeit this month's bonus," he continued, "and I expect you to personally reach out to Jones to salvage the deal. If you can't sign him by the end of the week, there will be further consequences."
"Yes, sir. I understand." My voice came out barely above a whisper.
"That will be all."
I rose on shaky legs and left his office, barely maintaining my composure until I reached the women's restroom. Once inside a stall, I pressed my forehead against the cool metal door and took several deep breaths, my entire body trembling. My career, the one thing I had worked so goddamn hard to build, was in jeopardy because of Drake's obsessive assistant.
"That fucking bitch," I growled, slamming my palm against the stall door. "That goddamn psychotic bitch."
I could practically see Emma's smug smile, the triumph in her eyes as she deliberately sabotaged me. I wanted to grab her by that perfectly styled blonde hair and slam her face into a wall.
The violent thought startled me—I wasn't usually prone to such imagery, but my professional pride had taken a serious hit. I'd never been reprimanded for a work failure before. My competence had always been my shield, the one thing no one could take away from me.
Back at my desk, I yanked open my drawer and pulled out my phone, my fingers shaking with rage. I opened my messaging app and started typing a message to Drake, deleting and retyping several times as my fury built.
Stone, control your new woman. If Emma shows up at my workplace again causing scenes, I'm calling the fucking police. I'm not your shield against crazy exes anymore. Handle your shit.
I hit send before I could reconsider, then dropped my phone into my drawer with such force that it bounced against the sides. Let him deal with the mess he created. I ran my fingers through my hair, tugging at the roots in frustration.
My desk phone rang, and I answered with my most professional tone, despite the storm raging inside me.
"Elsa Hale speaking." The words came out clipped and precise.
"Elsa! It's Bruce. I was wondering if you're free for lunch today?"
I nearly declined automatically—my usual response to Bruce's persistent invitations. But today, something snapped inside me. Maybe it was the humiliation I'd just endured, or the way my carefully constructed world seemed to be crumbling, but I found myself saying, "Yes, that would be nice."
There was a brief silence on the other end, as if Bruce couldn't believe his luck. "Great! I'll pick you up at noon?"
"I'll meet you in the lobby," I replied, already regretting my decision but too stubborn to take it back.
When noon arrived, I descended to the lobby to find Bruce waiting, looking more polished than usual in a charcoal suit that emphasized his broad shoulders. He was clutching a bouquet of silver roses.
"Elsa," he greeted, his eyes lighting up as he took in my appearance. "You look beautiful, as always."
I kept my expression neutral, crossing my arms over my chest defensively. "Bruce, we need to talk."
His smile faltered slightly at my tone. "Of course. I've made reservations at—"
"No, here is fine," I interrupted, taking a step back when he tried to hand me the flowers, my palm raised in rejection. "I need to make something clear. I'm not accepting those."
Confusion crossed his features. "They're just flowers, Elsa."
"They're a symbol of intentions I can't accept," I replied firmly, my jaw set in determination. "And while we're at it, you need to control your cousin Emma. If she shows up at my workplace again making a scene, I'm filing a harassment report."
Bruce's expression darkened. "What did Emma do?"
"She ambushed me outside the building this morning, screaming accusations and causing a scene in front of an important client," I spat, my voice rising despite my efforts to control it. "I lost the deal because of her, and my boss just threatened my job. So forgive me if I'm not in the mood for your fucking flowers."
Bruce's jaw tightened. "I'm sorry about that. Emma can be... impulsive."
"Impulsive?" I repeated incredulously, giving a harsh bark of laughter. "She physically grabbed me and tried to tear my clothes. That's assault, not impulsiveness. Get your head out of your ass."
Bruce nodded slowly. "I'll speak with her."
"Don't just speak with her—make sure she stays away from me," I insisted, jabbing a finger toward his chest, my voice growing colder. "And while we're setting boundaries, Mr. Wayne, this applies to you too. No more personal contact unless it's for business purposes."
His eyes widened slightly. "Elsa, I thought—"
"You thought wrong," I cut him off, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. "I'm not interested in a relationship with you or anyone else right now. I accepted your lunch invitation to make this clear in person because you deserve that courtesy. But I need you to respect my decision."
Bruce's expression hardened, though he maintained his smile—a politician's mask. "You're upset about what happened this morning. Let's not make hasty decisions."
"This isn't hasty," I replied firmly, standing my ground. "It's been my position all along, but you've chosen not to listen. I'm asking you now, explicitly—please respect my boundaries."
I turned and walked back toward the elevators, my heels clicking sharply against the marble floor, leaving Bruce standing in the lobby with his rejected flowers.