Chapter 78 Chapter 78
Chapter 78
The fourth floor was already awake when Celine stepped out of the elevator.
Printers hummed. Shoes clicked against the tiles. Voices blended into the usual morning rhythm. It felt like any other workday, yet her steps slowed the moment she crossed the glass doors of Ethan Castellan’s office wing.
She adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, took a quiet breath, and walked in.
Her desk sat where it had always been—inside his office, slightly to the side, far enough to keep things professional, close enough to feel his presence without trying. She powered on her system, arranged her files, and focused on the small routines that usually grounded her.
But today, her awareness stretched too wide.
She felt him before she saw him.
Ethan stepped in minutes later, dressed simply, no excess, no show. He didn’t announce himself. He never did. His presence was enough on its own.
Celine looked up without meaning to.
Their eyes met.
It lasted just a moment longer than necessary. Not long enough to be rude. Not short enough to mean nothing.
She looked away first.
“Good morning, sir,” she said, her voice steady, almost too steady.
“Good morning,” Ethan replied.
Two normal sentences. Two normal people. Yet the air between them felt different from yesterday, from every other day before it.
He walked past her desk to his own, placed his briefcase down, and loosened his cuffs. Celine could hear the faint sound of paper shifting as he pulled out documents. She typed in silence, fingers moving faster than her thoughts.
He sat down.
The chair creaked softly.
Ethan opened a file, stared at the first page, then flipped to the next without reading it.
He paused.
Closed the file.
Opened another.
Same thing.
His eyes drifted without permission.
Celine was focused on her screen, lips slightly pressed together as she read through a report. A loose strand of hair had slipped from behind her ear. She pushed it back, unaware she was being watched.
He looked away quickly, annoyed with himself.
This was work. Nothing more.
Still, he couldn’t ignore how the room felt fuller than usual. How every small movement she made registered too clearly.
“Celine,” he said suddenly.
She looked up at once. “Yes, sir?”
He hesitated, realizing he hadn’t thought past calling her name.
“The… quarterly summary,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’ll need it before noon.”
“Yes, sir. It’ll be ready.”
She returned to her screen.
He leaned back slightly, jaw tightening. The sound of her typing followed him, steady and calm, and somehow it unsettled him more than silence would have.
Minutes passed.
Then an hour.
A courier arrived with documents that needed immediate signing. Celine stood, collected the file, and walked toward his desk. She stopped a safe distance away.
“Sir, these need your signature.”
He reached for the pen, their hands nearly brushing.
Nearly.
He signed quickly and handed the papers back without looking at her.
“Thank you,” she said.
Their eyes met again.
Brief. Controlled.
She walked back to her desk.
Ethan exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple. He hadn’t taken his medication that morning. He told himself that was the reason he felt off. Nothing else.
At some point, Celine frowned at her screen.
“Sir,” she said carefully, “there’s an error in the logistics report. The numbers don’t align with last quarter’s data.”
Ethan stood and moved closer, stopping beside her desk.
“Let me see.”
She shifted slightly to give him space, rolling her chair back. He leaned in to look at the screen, not touching, not close enough to be improper, yet closer than usual.
Their shoulders didn’t meet.
But he felt her.
She explained the discrepancy, pointing at the figures, her voice calm and professional. He listened, nodding, trying to focus on the numbers instead of the quiet way her hand hovered above the keyboard.
“You’re right,” he said after a moment. “Correct it and resend.”
She nodded. “Yes, sir.”
He stepped back.
The space between them felt larger once he moved away.
The rest of the day passed in fragments. Meetings. Calls. Emails. Yet Ethan found himself checking the clock more than necessary, watching Celine rise to retrieve files, listening to the soft sound of her chair moving.
She, on the other hand, worked harder than usual, as if precision could shield her thoughts. She avoided unnecessary glances, kept her tone neutral, and reminded herself over and over that nothing had changed.
Still, when he spoke her name, something warm stirred before she could stop it.
Closing hour came quietly.
Staff began to pack up, conversations fading as people left. Celine saved her work, shut down her system, and stood, slipping her bag over her shoulder.
Ethan watched her from his desk.
“Celine,” he said.
She paused. “Yes, sir?”
“It’s late,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “Can I drop you off at your place ?”
The offer surprised them both.
She blinked once. “Oh. Thank you, sir, but it’s okay. I’ll manage.”
He nodded, though something tightened in his chest. “Alright.”
She hesitated, then added softly, “You don’t need to worry.”
That was when the awkwardness settled.
He felt like he had overstepped. Like he’d reached for something he shouldn’t have.
“Have a good evening,” he said.
“You too, sir.”
She walked out.
Ethan stayed where he was for a moment longer, staring at the door after it closed. Then he gathered his things and left, his steps slower than usual.
Outside, the building lights reflected off the pavement as both of them went their separate ways carrying the same quiet awareness neither was ready to name.
Celine stood by the roadside, her bag tucked under her arm, phone in hand as she refreshed the cab app again.
No driver yet.
Cars passed in quick bursts, headlights flashing by. She stepped a little farther from the curb, careful, patient. This was normal. She’d waited like this countless times before. Tonight shouldn’t be any different.
Then she heard it.
The low, unmistakable sound of an engine that didn’t belong to just any car.
She looked up.
Ethan’s Lamborghini rolled out of the company driveway, sleek and fast, the dark glass reflecting the streetlights as it moved. Her breath caught without warning.
So he hadn’t left yet.
The car slowed slightly as it merged onto the road. For a second just one she felt it. She didn’t know how, but she knew.
He had seen her.
Through the mirror, through the glass, through everything she had tried to keep professional and calm all day.
Inside the car, Ethan’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. He caught her reflection before he could stop himself. Celine. Standing there alone. Waiting.
He didn’t stop.
He pressed the accelerator instead.
The car surged forward, disappearing into traffic, the sound fading almost too quickly.
Celine stayed where she was, eyes fixed on the empty road long after the car was gone.
She didn’t even realize she was smiling.
Her cheeks warmed, her thoughts running in directions she refused to follow. The image of him behind the wheel, focused, distant, still somehow aware of her, replayed again and again.
“Get a grip,” she murmured to herself.
A horn blared nearby.
She startled, realizing she had drifted closer to the edge of the road without noticing. She stepped back quickly, embarrassed, her heart still beating faster than it should.
She glanced down at her phone.
Cab confirmed.
Celine exhaled,
smoothing her dress, her smile fading into something softer, quieter. But as she waited, one thought refused to leave her mind.
He had seen her.
And somehow, that meant more than she was ready to admit.