Isabella’s pov
Levi's intense gaze locked onto mine, waiting for my response. Caught off guard, I found myself staring back, unsure of what to say until the realization dawned on me.
"I know you didn't mean that," I rushed to explain, "I didn't assume for a moment that you orchestrated Mark's sick leave so I could replace him. I know you're not that type of person."
Levi was complex, but beneath it all, I trusted he wasn't manipulative. I sensed he believed I harbored doubts, likely stemming from that intense night at my place. However, our relationship had always been defined by mutual respect for boundaries since then, so he had nothing to worry about.
The weariness etched across his face revealed he had little energy to spare for me today anyway.
It stung, but I empathized with his burden. It wasn’t easy to watch everything you've worked for crumble within your grasp, with little to no understanding of what's happening or how to prevent it.
Levi absorbed my words silently before nodding slowly. "Okay. I just wanted to clarify," he murmured.
"Sure," I replied half-heartedly. "I understand, sir."
Levi's attention returned to the monitor, focusing on the racing scene unfolding before us.
My gaze fell to the ground, and a pang of sadness washed over me as I watched him, so focused and visibly stressed.
A sharp, prickling sensation stabbed at my heart, a physical ache I couldn't explain.
Since that tense day in the office, Levi had been impeccably professional. In this moment, his immediate concern was ensuring there were no misunderstandings between us, addressing the false assumption about Mark's absence.
He sought to reassure me, to erase any lingering doubts about his intentions that he wanted to sleep with me.
Maybe I had been too forward by confronting him in the office. Had I crossed a line?
Three revelations churned within me, pulsing in my chest: Firstly, Levi wasn't the irredeemable person I sometimes painted him as in my mind. Deep down, I knew he wasn't. Secondly, he definitely didn't harbor romantic feelings for me. And thirdly, despite my attempts to convince myself otherwise, a part of me still yearned for Levi even though I liked Mr L.
Damn it! I am fucked!
Slowly, almost reluctantly, I raised my gaze to meet Levi's. He furrowed his brow slightly, crossed his arms, and focused intently on the screen before him.
My mind couldn't help but wander to the hurtful words plastered all over the internet—those spiteful tweets and vicious Instagram posts.
They weren't directed at me directly; after all, I worked mostly behind the scenes. But the palpitations and nausea that gripped me whenever I stumbled upon them were undeniable. And what about Levi? Many of those words were aimed directly at him as the CEO.
Surely he had seen them. And then there were the relentless, cutting media interviews he had to endure.
I felt so bad for him. How do I help out?
Perhaps my distress was evident in my eyes, because Levi tilted his head and glanced at me again. He removed the headphones from his ears. "What time is the media interview?" he asked, meeting my gaze, causing my heart to skip a beat.
"Eight o'clock. There's still forty minutes left, and the interview script needs to be reviewed half an hour beforehand," I informed him in my most professional tone.
Levi nodded thoughtfully, pausing for a moment before speaking again. "Isabella, if you feel uncomfortable being in the same space with me, you can go to the lounge and wait. I'll join you there in ten minutes."
Once again, Levi's consideration for my feelings shone through. I couldn't help but feel grateful for a boss who would say such words.
After his words, I became acutely aware that besides the glow of the screen, the room was enveloped in a comforting darkness. I cleared my throat nervously, determined to maintain professionalism, especially now that Levi had made it clear he wouldn't cross any lines.
The best course of action for me right now, was to preserve both my dignity and my job by remaining strictly professional, demonstrating unequivocally that I harbored no inappropriate feelings for him.
Even if I did.
But, he will never know.
"I don’t feel uncomfortable staying in the same space with you," I replied evenly. "But I do need to step out for a moment. Let's reconvene in the lounge in ten minutes, okay?"
"Alright," came his calm response.
As I exited the monitoring room, it struck me how my heart had raced in that small, dimly lit space with him.
"What’s wrong with you?" I chided myself silently, feeling the absurd impulse to dart back into the monitoring room just to steal a kiss from Levi. Instead, I stood frozen outside his door, debating my next move. Before I could decide, the sound of shuffling feet inside signaled Levi's approach.
Damn it!
I'm supposed to be in the lounge.
I hurried down the corridor and into the spacious lounge area, sinking into a plush chair. Fidgeting with my dress, I took deep breaths in an attempt to regain composure, but my nerves refused to settle. I decided a cup of coffee might steady my jittery hands.
"Way to get over your addiction," I muttered to myself, pouring a quick brew from the coffee machine.
Moments later, Levi appeared in the doorway and approached the chair where I sat. Startled, I jumped up too quickly, still uneasy, and did something utterly foolish—I handed him the lukewarm cup of coffee.
"For you," I said softly.
Levi seemed momentarily taken aback, then accepted it with a quiet "thank you."
As he glanced at the cup, he noticed lipstick stains on the rim.
"Sorry, let me get a tissue to wipe that—" I started, but my voice trailed off as he brought the cup to his lips, directly where the stains were. It felt almost like he was kissing me.
My heart raced, a tremor of excitement tingling from my toes to my core. I was utterly shaken.
Levi froze momentarily after taking a sip, the quiet lounge now illuminated brightly from above. I tilted my head to study his face, which was clear in the light, including the slight curve of his lips.
"It's a cappuccino, not espresso," I managed to say, relieved he didn't seem upset.
He exhaled softly, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
“Will drinking something sweet make you feel better?" I offered, hoping to ease the tension.
He shrugged nonchalantly and took another sip, his eyes meeting mine over the rim of the cup. Levi's Adam's apple bobbed with restraint, a sight that unexpectedly stirred a desire within me.
I wanted to lick it.
"Something sweet would definitely help," he replied with a tone that hinted at more than just the coffee.
Was my boss flirting with me, despite our promise to keep boundaries?
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