Chapter 45 Keep It Professional
SCARLETT
Lawrence finally let me return to the office. In total, I took a two-week break.
I had to whine in his ear every single day, begging, pouting, promising I was "fine", before he conceded.
He grumbled the whole time about how I "wasn't ready," but in the end, he gave in.
I choose to arrive early, before him, even though we stay in the penthouse together, because I low-key miss the normalcy of the routine, and because I can't risk anyone seeing us arrive together.
My colleagues are happy to see me again.
Some of them give me hugs and gentle shoulder squeezes, some toss me loving smiles from their stations. Others ask about my grandma's health.
I play the part, smiling while I lie that she's doing better, and appreciate them for checking up.
Guilt twists in my gut every time, but the lie is easier than the truth.
Someone must've sent a message to the main office group chat about my return, because Jay appears not long after.
He pulls me into a long, tight hug before cupping my face with both hands.
"Scar," he says, his voice thick with worry. "Good to see you again. How are you doing?"
I lead him to a quiet corner near the printers, away from prying ears.
"I'm fine," I say softly. "I'm so sorry I've been MIA even after your last call. My grandma and… all of it."
By "all of it", I mean Kieran's death.
Jay lets out a tired breath, his eyes roaming over me. He notices the faint pink scar on my neck from the broken bottle and frowns.
"What happened here? Are you…"
"Jay," I interrupt gently, offering a small smile. "I'm fine. Thanks for your concern."
He stares at me for a long time, then reaches out and pats my hair—an intimate gesture that makes me stiffen slightly.
But I brush it off, because he's just worried. And he likes me. So, I understand him.
"This is why I told you rich men are always up to no good," he mutters, voice low and bitter. "Imagine Kieran turning out to be the one behind our company's security breach."
He looks visibly upset on my behalf.
"How are you holding up since his death? I know you were dating. All the news says is that when Mr Moore found out and tried to have him arrested, he resisted, leading to his tragic end."
The latest news has shed more light on the situation, painting it as nothing other than a tragic accident.
I still see the recent headlines in my head: CEO of Black Forge tries to flee arrest, gets shot and falls from the terrace.
There's been no mention of me so far. Lawrence made sure of that.
The FBI kept my name buried deep.
"Yeah," I whisper, zoning out for a second, replaying the scene at the terrace, the bottle at my throat, the gunshot, the fall.
Jay winces. "Fuck, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said that. That was so insensitive of me." He says quickly. "Of course, you're still grieving and... Fuck, I'm such an ass."
Grieving.
I nearly laugh.
It is terrifying how quickly I moved on from Kieran.
His death and his final words still haunt me late at night when the penthouse is quiet, but I haven't exactly mourned him.
Maybe because he doesn't deserve to be mourned.
"Jay," I say with a dry laugh. "We'd better get back to work before Mr Moore shows up."
He shrugs. "He hasn't really been consistent like before. Who knows, today might just be one of the days he chooses to skip."
"Oh, really?" I act surprised. Meanwhile, Lawrence has been with me most of the time, working from home.
"Yeah," Jay mutters. "I guess his interest in us has waned since his work here is done. But anyway, you're right. We should get back."
We both turn.
"Take care, aight?" he says softly, looking at me again.
"Sure. Thanks, Jay."
He gives me a gentle smile before heading down to the floor below while I walk to my desk.
Susan looks up when she sees me and shuts her eyes in visible relief. "Thank the Lord," she mutters.
"Hi, Susan," I say, flashing her a sympathetic smile.
"How have you managed to pull this off in the four months Lawrence has been in this office?" she asks in awe.
I shrug.
"You get used to it."
She shakes her head, her voice lowering to a whisper.
"On the days Mr Moore is absent, I don't really have anything to worry about. But on the days he is here… holy hell. That man is hard to please."
"I know, right?"
"I guess low-key everyone is happy this whole hacker thing has been sorted so he can finally return to London," she continues, already packing up some of her stuff.
A pang of pain slices through my chest, but I hide it behind a weak smile.
"Yeah. I mean, he can take all his problems with him."
"Exactly."
"Anyway, thanks for filling in for me again. Just show me what you've been up to, what needs to be done, and I'll take over."
"Yes, please. So I've…"
I listen while she briefs me on the latest reports, pending approvals, client follow-ups, and yada yada.
Lawrence once suggested I work remotely, but this job is better done onsite.
Remote doesn't cut the energy or the face-to-face updates. So I didn't bother agreeing with him on it.
Half an hour after I've caught up to speed, Lawrence walks in, dressed in a sharp grey suit.
He catches my eye and winks very subtly before disappearing into his office.
Heat rushes to my cheeks, but I hide it quickly, clearing my throat and pretending to check something on my screen.
He summons me to his office barely ten minutes later.
As I enter, he's lounging in his chair, idly swivelling, his jacket slung over the back of the seat.
"Mr Moore," I say, keeping my voice strictly professional, though it's hard to burst out laughing or ignore how devastatingly attractive he looks in that crisp white shirt and tailored pants.
I meet his gaze. "You wanted to see me?"
"I did," he replies, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he rises to his full height.
He approaches slowly, his familiar cologne enveloping me until he's mere inches away. Then he leans down and captures my lips in a kiss.
I surrender to it for a moment… the soft feel of his mouth, his tongue tangling with mine. But I force myself to pull back.
"Mr Moore," I whisper-scold. "We can't do this here."
"Why not?" He grins.
I raise an eyebrow. "Aren't you the one who's always preaching about professionalism?"
"True, but around you, I don't always feel like my usual self." He holds my waist, spins me gently, and guides me backwards until I'm pinned against his desk. He leans in closer.
"Mr Moore..."
He shakes his head with a soft tut. "For God's sake, don't call me that when we're alone."
His fingers trace the floral patterns on my dress as he plants a kiss against the side of my neck.
"Fine," I relent.
He doesn't move, still waiting for me to say it.
I roll my eyes, fighting back a smile. "Lawrence."
A spark lights in his eyes.
"Mmm, say it again," he murmurs, his face inching toward mine.
My voice drops, laced with desire. "Lawrence."
He groans softly and claims my mouth.