Lina's POV
My fingers trembled slightly as I reached for the door, my gaze fixed on Alarick whose eyes shot daggers through Rawson. The silence between them stretched like a tightrope, ready to snap under the weight of unspoken words.
"Alarick, can I—?" My voice faltered, uncertainty creasing my forehead. What could I do to calm the situation? All eyes now turned to me, expecting me to diffuse the tension. The atmosphere was thick with strain and unease.
I cleared my throat in an attempt to break through the bubble of tension. Desperately, I looked at Rawson for support. He had proven himself trustworthy in the last few weeks. But what could I possibly contribute to this argument between the two most important men in the company, except for being the cause of it?
All my hope rested on Rawson, but he only shifted in his seat, nonchalantly flipping through the pages of a book he held. "Did you want something, Lina?" His tone was casual, a stark contrast to the charged moment they had just shared.
"Just...go, Lina. I'll handle this," Alarick ground out, his voice a low growl.
"She is not your secretary!" Rawson butted in now with rage clouding his features.
His blue orbs blazed with barely restrained fury and a shiver traveled down my spine at the unfathomable menace in his voice.
"Neither yours!" Alarick snapped back.
Reluctantly, I nodded and took my leave. The room seemed to shrink around us, suffocating me. My heart pounding in my chest, I needed air. I needed to get out.
I backed away from the desk and into the doorframe, pressing my heated skin against the cool wood as if trying to ground myself from within. With a curt nod, I fled the office, slamming the door behind me.
As I made my way down the hallway, I could still hear raised voices but didn't press my luck by eavesdropping. The only word that registered in my mind was 'pack', their conversation none of my business. Besides, I had something more important to attend to.
Slipping into my room, I pulled out the old map from Wolfsville that I had found in the library. It was a delicate piece of paper, yellowed with age and creased from years of use. Despite its fragility, it held a wealth of information about my hometown and I couldn't wait to order a larger copy as an exhibit for the museum.
Sitting at my desk with the map spread out in front of me, I felt a weight settle on my chest. This wasn't the man who had almost spent a fervent night with me under the cloak of night; this Alarick was distant, a stranger wearing the guise of the man I thought I knew.
Lost in thought, sipping on a cup of tea that failed to warm my chilled bones, I barely registered the knock on my table until it sliced through the tension like a knife.
Rawson stepped into my line of vision, his presence immediately infusing the room with a vigor that seemed to have been sapped away by Alarick's aloofness. His eyes met mine and within them, I found an inexplicable comfort.
"Hi, Lina. I hope I'm not interrupting," Rawson said with a warmth in his voice that wrapped around me like a soothing balm. His timing was impeccable and my spirits lifted ever so slightly.
"Thank you, Rawson," I said his name for the first time.
Rawson moved closer, directing his attention to me with an intensity that felt like a lifeline. "Remarkable," he murmured, leaning over my shoulder to inspect the project I had been laboring over for hours. His breath was warm on my neck, causing a shiver to dart down my spine.
"You've assimilated the data quicker than I anticipated. Your insight is... invaluable."
Gratitude filled my words as I looked up at him, trying to focus on the glow of the screen rather than the closeness of our bodies. But it was impossible to ignore the spark of happiness that ignited every time he was near, or the warmth and comfort I found in his steadfast attention.
As we both reached for the same report, our shoulders brushed and my heart skipped a beat. There was definitely something between us, an unspoken connection that resonated like a chord struck on a silent instrument. As I pulled back quickly, cheeks flushed, I met Rawson's gaze and saw something there - a question, a hope - that left me feeling exposed yet not entirely unwilling.
With each passing day, I found myself caught in an emotional current whenever I was around Rawson. His quiet support and subtle glances drew me in and entangled me further in his web of affection. And though I tried to remind myself that Rawson was kind and truly saw me unlike Alarick, memories of Alarick's cold detachment would prick at my conscience like thorns.
Alone in the dimly lit quarters, I would wrestle with my thoughts. "But Rawson offers me warmth," I would tell myself. "He sees me for who I am." Yet, Alarick's rare and enchanting laugh would echo in my mind, and my resolve would crumble. The mere thought of him still made my heart skip a beat.