Chapter 48 Green Elena
I'd been sick, half-conscious, and yet I remembered everything.
The warmth of her fingers brushing mine. The spark that followed.
And then the doorbell - Elena's voice.
The look on Rachael's face when she opened the door. The one that said I know exactly what this looks like.
Now it was Monday morning, and everything felt too quiet.
Too normal.
Rachael was at her desk when I walked in, her hair pulled back neatly, a pen between her fingers, the picture of focus. Except her eyes flicked up the moment I entered - like they always did - and for a heartbeat, we just looked at each other.
"Morning," she said finally, her tone polite but lighter than usual.
"Morning," I replied, setting my briefcase down. "No soup today?"
She smiled - that slow, knowing kind of smile that crept up one corner first.
"Depends," she said. "You planning to fall sick again?"
I leaned back against the desk, arms crossed. "You make it sound tempting."
"Then maybe I should start charging."
It was harmless. Playful. But the air between us shifted - stretched - until even silence felt heavy.
I looked at her for a moment too long. She noticed.
And instead of looking away, she met my gaze, bold and unflinching.
It wasn't the kind of look an assistant gave her boss.
It was the kind of look that burned slow and deep, right beneath the surface.
She broke the tension first, clearing her throat and returning to her work. "You have a board call at ten," she said briskly. "I'll print the reports for you."
"Thanks," I said, even though I hadn't heard half of what she said.
By noon, I'd convinced myself I was imagining things.
I'd buried myself in emails, client calls, and contracts - anything to drown the image of her smile from my mind.
But then came the meeting.
Elena was already in the conference room when Rachael and I walked in together.
Her eyes flicked between us - sharp, calculating - but she said nothing.
I caught the faintest twitch in her jaw before she smoothed it away.
"Let's begin," she said coolly.
We went through reports, budgets, project timelines. Rachael took notes quietly beside me, occasionally passing me a file or whispering a correction under her breath. Each time her hand brushed mine, my pulse reacted before my brain did.
Elena noticed. Of course, she did.
At one point, when Rachael leaned closer to point out a section in the report, Elena's pen snapped between her fingers. She didn't even flinch - just replaced it with another one, her expression unreadable.
When the meeting ended, Elena was the first to leave. Rachael stayed behind, gathering papers.
"She doesn't like me much, does she?" she said lightly.
I raised a brow. "Why do you say that?"
She smiled faintly. "Call it intuition."
"Intuition's dangerous," I said. "It makes people assume things."
"Maybe," she said, sliding the folder into her bag. "Or maybe it just tells the truth before people are ready to admit it."
Our eyes met again - and this time, she didn't look away.
Something inside me tightened. A quiet, dangerous awareness that this-whatever it was-wasn't harmless anymore.
She smiled softly. "Don't stay too late tonight. You still sound a little sick."
"Is that concern I hear, Ms. Meyer?"
She tilted her head, pretending to think. "Professional concern," she said. "Mostly."
Mostly.
The word echoed long after she left.
Later that night.
I stayed in the office long after everyone else had gone. The city outside glowed in reflection against the glass walls. Somewhere down the hall, the cleaning staff hummed faintly.
I was reviewing documents when I heard a soft knock on the door.
"Still here?" Rachael asked, peeking in.
"Couldn't sleep," I said. "And you?"
She stepped inside, holding two coffee cups. "Couldn't either. Thought you might need this."
I took the cup from her. Our fingers brushed - again - that same electric spark.
"You shouldn't have," I said quietly.
"I wanted to."
Simple words. But the way she said them... it wasn't simple at all.
She sat on the edge of the desk, sipping her drink. "You work too much," she said.
"And you worry too much."
She smiled, eyes half-lidded. "Someone has to."
"Careful," I said, leaning back. "You sound like you care."
Her lips parted slightly. "Maybe I do."
That hung in the air, fragile and loaded.
Her gaze dipped briefly to my mouth before darting away.
I could've kissed her then.
Every nerve in me screamed for it.
But instead, I exhaled, turning my attention back to the laptop. "You should go home," I said quietly. "Before people start talking."
Her voice was soft when she answered. "They already are."
And then she left - her perfume trailing behind, leaving the air charged and unsteady.
In the elevator, Rachael leaned back against the mirror, pulse still racing.
She hadn't meant to flirt. Not really.
But Damian Cross made it impossible not to.
The man was carved from restraint - all sharp lines and quiet power - but beneath that calm, she'd seen something flicker. Something she wanted to understand.
She shouldn't.
He was her boss.
He was Elena's.
And yet, when he'd looked at her tonight - really looked - she'd felt something shift.
Something dangerous.
By the time she reached her car, she was smiling to herself.
She didn't know what this thing between them was yet.
But she knew one thing for sure -
It wasn't over.
Not even close.
Elena's POV
I should've known.
The moment Rachael Meyer walked into the office a month ago - all smiles, confidence, and calm - I should've known she'd be trouble.
I was the one who hired her.
I sat across from her in that interview room, impressed by her composure, the way she spoke like she already belonged here. I thought, finally, someone who can handle Damian's impossible standards.
I didn't realize I was hiring my own headache.
At first, it was harmless.
She was polite, smart, efficient - everything the last assistant wasn't.
Then I started noticing the little things.
The way people looked up when she walked by.
The way Damian's office door stayed open a little longer after meetings.
The quiet laugh that drifted from his floor when the rest of the building had gone silent.
I told myself I was imagining it.
I told myself Damian wouldn't cross that line again - not after everything that happened between us.
But the way he looked at her... God. I've seen that look before. I used to be the one who earned it.
I didn't say anything. I'm too proud for that.
But I noticed. Every damn thing.
How she leaned a little closer than necessary when showing him files.
How he didn't flinch away.
How his voice changed when he spoke to her - lower, quieter. Like she was the only person in the room.
Today, it was impossible to ignore.
We had a meeting - all the department heads, same as usual. Rachael was beside him, going through a report, and for a second, I swear the world faded.
She smiled at something he said.
And Damian - the man who barely smiles anymore - actually smiled back.
My stomach twisted.
It was subtle, quick, professional even. But I saw it.
Everyone else probably thought I was staring at the presentation, but I wasn't. I was staring at them.
When the meeting ended, I lingered a bit, pretending to review some documents.
I watched her hand brush against his as she packed up her notes. Watched him pretend not to notice.
They didn't say anything inappropriate - they didn't have to.
The silence between them said enough.
Later that evening, I went back to the office.
I'd left a folder behind, that's what I told myself. But I think I just wanted to prove I was overthinking it.
That nothing was happening.
That Damian wasn't interested in her.
But when I walked in, the lights in his office were still on.
I stopped at the door.
Through the glass, I saw her - Rachael - standing close to his desk. She was holding a cup, laughing softly about something. Damian was sitting there, relaxed in a way I hadn't seen in months.
I froze.
Something in my chest burned, slow and sharp.