I turned to see Emily rushing towards us, her face flushed and hair slightly disheveled. She came to a stop in front of me, panting slightly.
"I got caught up in a last-minute project and lost track of time," she explained, her eyes wide and apologetic. "I still want to grab that coffee if you're free?"
I felt a surge of conflicting emotions - relief that Emily hadn't stood me up intentionally, excitement at the prospect of still having coffee with her, and guilt because I'd already agreed to drinks with Simon.
"Oh, um..." I started, unsure how to navigate this awkward situation.
But before I could formulate a response, Emily's gaze shifted to Simon, who was standing silently beside me. Her demeanor changed instantly, her eyes widening in awe and recognition.
"You're… President Heath, aren't you?" she breathed, her voice filled with admiration. "I've heard so much about you."
I watched, feeling increasingly uncomfortable, as Emily's attention seemed to completely shift from me to Simon. Her body language changed, angling towards him, her smile becoming more dazzling. It was as if I had ceased to exist.
Simon, for his part, maintained a polite expression, but I noticed a subtle shift in his demeanor. His eyes, usually warm when addressing me, took on a cold, almost dangerous edge as he looked at Emily.
"You must be Ms. Emily Taylor from marketing, correct?" he asked, his voice smooth and charming. "I've heard good things about your work."
Emily beamed at the recognition, clearly thrilled. "Yes, that's me! It's such an honor to finally meet you, sir. You know- there was a marketing strategy I would love to pick your brain on sometime. Perhaps we can-"
Simon raised a hand, cutting her off politely but firmly. "I appreciate your enthusiasm, Ms. Taylor, but if it is work related, please schedule an appointment through my secretary."
Emily's smile faltered slightly, but she pressed on. "Of course, I understand. Maybe we could just grab a quick coffee sometime?"
I stood there, stunned into silence as Emily brazenly asked Simon for coffee right in front of me. The audacity of it left me feeling invisible and insignificant, but I couldn't bring myself to say anything. I just watched, a passive observer to my own humiliation.
Simon's response was polite, but I noticed the change in his demeanor immediately.
"Ms. Taylor," Simon interrupted again, his tone still courteous but with an underlying edge of finality, "I apologize, I make it a policy not to socialize with employees outside of official company events. I'm sure you understand."
I watched this exchange with a mix of fascination and discomfort. Simon's words were impeccably polite, but there was something in his eyes - a coldness, perhaps even a hint of distaste - that belied his cordial demeanor. It was subtle, but unmistakable.
As soon as the words left his mouth, I felt a jolt of confusion. Hadn't we just agreed to go for drinks?
Simon then turned to me, his expression softening slightly. "Norman, I believe this is the young lady you were waiting for earlier, isn't it?"
I nodded, still feeling slightly dazed by the rapid turn of events.
"In that case," Simon continued, "don't worry about our plans. We can always reschedule for another time. You should go ahead and enjoy your evening with Ms. Taylor."
I felt a strong sense of relief and unease wash over me. "Are you sure, sir? I don't want to be rude-"
Simon waved his hand dismissively. "Not at all. These things happen. We'll find another time."
He gave me a meaningful look that I couldn't quite decipher before turning back to Emily. "It was nice meeting you, Ms. Taylor. Have a good evening, both of you."
With that, Simon nodded politely and strode towards the exit, his tall figure cutting an impressive silhouette against the lobby's bright lights.
After Simon made his polite but firm exit, Emily's attention swung back to me like a compass needle finding north. Her smile, so bright and eager when directed at Simon, now seemed slightly dimmed.
"So, Norman," she said, her tone noticeably less enthusiastic than before, "shall we go get that coffee?"
I nodded, still reeling from the exchange I'd just witnessed. As we walked out of the lobby, I couldn't help but feel like a consolation prize. Emily had aimed for the top and, having been rebuffed, was now settling for me.
As Emily and I settled into our seats at the coffee shop, I felt a mix of emotions churning inside me. Part of me wanted to confront her about what had happened in the lobby, to ask why she'd so blatantly disregarded our plans in favor of pursuing Simon. But the words wouldn't come.
I'd been crushing on Emily for so long, and the reality was, I couldn't really blame her. Simon was everything I wasn't - tall, handsome, powerful. It only made sense that she, like any woman, would be more interested in him. My lack of self-confidence whispered that I should just be grateful she was here with me at all, even if I was clearly her second choice.
"So, Norman," Emily began, stirring her latte, "tell me more about your work. What exactly do you do for President Heath?"
I blinked, caught off guard by her directness. "Oh, um, well, I don't exactly work with the president directly."
Emily leaned forward, her eyes suddenly intent. "But you must have some interesting responsibilities, right? I mean, you've had two meetings with the president in as many days. That's not typical for someone on our floor, is it?"
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. "Not really, no. It's just been some routine stuff."
"Come on, Norman," she pressed, her tone sweet but insistent. "You can tell me. What kind of projects are you working on? What does the president have you doing?"
As Emily continued to probe, asking increasingly specific questions about my work and my interactions with Simon, I couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't just casual conversation. It felt more like an interrogation.
I found myself giving vague, noncommittal answers, partly because I didn't want to betray any confidences, but also because I genuinely didn't have much to tell. The truth was, I was just as confused about my recent interactions with Simon as anyone else.
As the evening wore on, each time I tried to steer the conversation to more personal topics, she skillfully brought it back to work, to the president, to anything that might give her insight into the upper echelons of the company.
By the time we finished our coffee, I felt drained and oddly hollow. This wasn't at all how I'd imagined my long-awaited coffee date with Emily would go.
As we left the coffee shop, Emily linked her arm through mine, her smile suddenly warm and inviting. "You know, Norman, I'm still a bit hungry. Why don't we grab some dinner?"
I hesitated, my wallet already feeling lighter after the coffee. But Emily's proximity and the intoxicating scent of her perfume weakened my resolve. "Sure, I guess we could get a bite."
"Great!" she beamed. "I know just the place."
Before I knew it, we were sliding into a taxi, and Emily was giving the driver an address I didn't recognize. As we pulled up to the restaurant, my stomach dropped. This wasn't just any restaurant - it was one of those upscale places I'd only ever seen from the outside, the kind where even the menu probably cost more than my weekly grocery budget.
"Emily, I don't think-" I started, but she was already pulling me through the door.
"Don't worry, Norman," she said, her voice honey-sweet. "You deserve to treat yourself once in a while. Besides, I'm sure someone in your position can afford it."
My position? I wanted to correct her, to explain that I was just a low-level assistant, but the maître d' was already leading us to a table.
As we settled in, Emily immediately reached for the wine list. "Oh, look at this beautiful Bordeaux," she cooed. "We simply must try it."
I glanced at the price and felt my palms start to sweat. That bottle cost more than my rent.
"And for dinner…," Emily continued, scanning the menu, "We should definitely try the mussels."
As she rattled off our order to the waiter, each item more expensive than the last, I sat there in stunned silence. I should speak up, should stop this before it got out of hand. But Emily's dazzling smile and the way she leaned in close, her hand occasionally brushing mine, left me tongue-tied and compliant.
Throughout the meal, Emily continued her subtle probing about my work, each question aimed at uncovering more about my relationship with Simon and my role in the company.
By the time the check arrived, I felt slightly dizzy, and not just from the wine. The total was astronomical, more than I made in two weeks. As I reached for my wallet with shaking hands, I couldn't help but wonder how I'd let things get this far.
Emily watched me expectantly, not even pretending to offer to split the bill. In that moment, despite the haze of wine and infatuation, I realized I'd been played.
As I handed over my credit card, praying it wouldn't be declined, Emily leaned across the table with a coy smile. "That was wonderful, Norman. Thank you so much for dinner."
I managed a weak smile in return, my mind reeling from the astronomical total I'd just signed for. "Yeah, it was... something."
Emily stood up, smoothing her dress. "You know, there's this adorable little bakery just around the corner. They have the most divine chocolate truffles. We should go get some for dessert."
The thought of spending even another dollar made my stomach churn. "I... I don't think I can, Emily. I didn't realize how expensive dinner would be. I'm sorry, but I'm pretty much tapped out for the night."
Emily's expression shifted, confusion and something like annoyance flashing across her face. "What do you mean? you're not actually being groomed for a promotion?"
I shook my head, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and growing irritation. "No, I'm not. I told you, I'm just an assistant. The meetings with President Heath were-"
"Were nothing!" Emily cut me off, her eyes flashing. "God, I can't believe I wasted an entire evening on this... this farce!"
Her words stung, but they also ignited a spark of anger in me. "Wasted an evening? I just spent two weeks' salary on dinner for you!"
Emily scoffed, grabbing her purse. "Well, that's your own fault for pretending to be something you're not."
"I never pretended anything," I protested, but she was already standing up, her chair scraping loudly against the floor.
"Save it, Norman," she snapped. "I should have known better than to think someone like you could actually be important."
With that parting shot, Emily stormed out of the restaurant, leaving me sitting there, stunned and humiliated. The few other diners in the restaurant were staring, and I could feel my face burning with shame.
I sat there for a few more minutes, trying to compose myself, before finally getting up to leave. As I walked out into the cool night air, I realized that the Emily I had crushed on for so long had never really existed. She was just a projection of my own hopes and insecurities.
I'd spent months pining after Emily. Now, in the space of a single evening, that illusion had been shattered. And all I had to show for it was an overdrawn bank account and a sinking feeling in my gut.
As I trudged home, the initial shock and hurt began to fade, and a new feeling started to take root: doubt.
I'd been so sure about Emily. I'd built her up in my mind, convinced myself that I understood her character. And I'd been completely, utterly wrong.
If I could be so mistaken about someone I'd observed and admired for months, what else might I be misjudging?
My thoughts drifted to President Heath - to Simon. I'd been wary of him, suspicious of his attention and kindness. But now, in light of my spectacular failure with Emily, I began to question those instincts.
Simon had been nothing but generous and considerate. He'd offered me new shoes when mine were worn out, returned my phone when I lost it, even invited me for drinks. And how had I repaid that kindness? With suspicion and paranoia.
Maybe I'd been looking at everything all wrong. Maybe my judgment was fundamentally flawed.
I'd already made a promise to myself to approach my interactions with Simon more openly, to be less paranoid. But now, in light of my catastrophic misjudgment of Emily, that promise felt woefully inadequate.
I tossed and turned, my mind racing as the shame washed over me in waves. I needed to make this right somehow. I needed to show Simon that I appreciated his kindness, that I was worthy of the attention he'd given me.
Simon had no idea about my internal struggles, that as far as he knew, I'd always been nothing but grateful and respectful. But all I could focus on was my own perceived failing, my own need to atone for thoughts I'd never acted on.
But for now, all I felt was a mix of determination and relief. Tomorrow would be a new day, a chance to start fresh with Simon.
I walked into the office the next morning, my head still spinning from the events of the previous night. As I made my way to my desk, I couldn't help but notice the hushed whispers and furtive glances among my coworkers. Something was clearly going on.
As I settled in, I overheard snippets of conversation from the cubicle next to mine.
"Did you hear about Emily?"
"I can't believe it. Fired and sued for embezzlement?"
"It happened so fast. She was here yesterday and now..."
My heart skipped a beat. Emily? Fired and sued? It didn't seem possible. Just last night we were having dinner together, and now...
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to accept the story at face value. If the company said Emily had been embezzling, then that must be the truth. After all, why would they lie?
I tried to focus on my work, pushing thoughts of Emily and the swirling office gossip to the back of my mind. I was just starting to make headway on a particularly tedious spreadsheet when my phone rang.
"Norman," came the voice of Simon's secretary, "President Heath would like to see you in his office."
My heart raced as I made my way to the elevator. This was my chance to show Simon my renewed dedication, to make up for all those unvoiced suspicions.
When I entered Simon's office, he was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his back to me, silhouetted against the city skyline. The room was eerily quiet.
"You wanted to see me, sir?" I asked, my voice sounding small in the vast space.
Simon didn't turn around immediately. When he finally did, his face was unreadable. "Ah, Norman. Yes. Come in."
I stepped further into the office, my palms sweating slightly.
"So," Simon began, his voice deceptively casual, "how did your date go last night?"
The question caught me off guard. For a moment, I hesitated, confused. Surely he knew about Emily's situation? Why would he ask about the date first?
"It... it didn't go well, sir," I admitted, deciding to answer honestly despite my confusion.
Simon's eyes narrowed slightly. "Oh? How so?"
"There was a misunderstanding about my position in the company," I admitted.
Simon nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving my face. "I see. And I assume you've heard the news about Ms. Taylor?"
Now I was really perplexed. The order of his questions seemed... backwards. But I pushed the thought away, reminding myself of my resolution.
"Yes, sir," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. "It's... quite shocking."
Simon's lips curved into a small smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Mm- it is. Unfortunate, really. But we can't tolerate that sort of behavior in our company, can we?"
"No, sir," I agreed.
"I'm relieved to hear you didn't become too involved with her, Norman." Simon said, "I would hate to see you fall victim to such a bad influence."
I blinked, taken aback by his words. "Sir?"
"You've always been an uncomplicated employee," Simon continued, his tone almost paternal, "I've always appreciated your focus on your work. It would be a shame to see that change if you got too distracted."
Uncomplicated? What did he mean by that? And why did it sound almost like a warning?
For a moment, my resolution wavered. This felt wrong, felt like something I should question. But I steeled myself, forcing the doubts away.
"Of course, sir," I managed to say. "I'm... I'm committed to my job."
Simon's smile was cold. "Excellent. That's what I like to hear."
As I left his office, I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd just been given a test - one that I'd only barely passed. The praise for staying "uncomplicated," the thinly veiled warning about avoiding "bad influences" - it all felt wrong somehow. A small voice in the back of my head whispered that this wasn't just friendly advice from a boss. It felt more like... instructions. Like Simon was telling me, in not so many words, what behavior he approved of and what he didn't.
The timing of Emily's sudden downfall, right after our date, seemed too convenient to be coincidence. And the way Simon had brought it up, almost as if he were gauging my reaction...
I shook my head, trying to dispel these thoughts. I had promised myself I wouldn't be suspicious anymore. But even as I tried to push the doubts away, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had just been given a lesson - one with potentially dire consequences if I failed to learn it.
Over the next few weeks, I found myself increasingly pulled into Simon's orbit. It started small - he'd call me up to his office for minor tasks, things that seemed odd for the company president to concern himself with.
"Norman, could you run down to the deli and pick up my lunch order?" he'd ask. When I'd return, he'd insist I take half the sandwich. "Oh, they always give me too much. You'd be doing me a favor."
Another time, he asked me to help organize some files in his office. After we finished, he handed me a sleek leather portfolio. "This was a gift from a client, but I have too many. Why don't you take it?"
Each time I completed one of these odd jobs, Simon would find a way to reward me. Sometimes it was food, other times small gifts, but always accompanied by effusive praise.
Gradually, I found myself looking forward to these interactions. I started volunteering for tasks, staying late to help with projects that weren't strictly part of my job description. All I knew was that for the first time in my career, I felt valued, appreciated. And I was willing to do almost anything to keep that feeling alive.
The following Tuesday I returned to Simon's office, a stack of freshly printed reports in my hands. "Sir, I've got those documents you asked for—" My voice trailed off as I realized the vast room was empty.
This was odd. Simon never left his office unlocked when he stepped out for meetings. For a moment, I stood frozen in the doorway, unsure what to do.
Curiosity got the better of me. I stepped inside, my eyes widening as I took in the opulent surroundings. I'd been in here many times before, but always focused on work, on Simon. Now, I allowed myself to really look.
The rich mahogany desk gleamed in the afternoon light. Leather-bound books lined custom shelves.
My gaze fell on Simon's desk. A fountain pen, its gold nib catching the light, rested on a leather blotter. I had an urge to pick it up, to feel its weight in my hand. But something held me back.
Simon definitely wouldn't approve of me touching his stuff, right?
Would he know, somehow?
No, no. It doesn't matter if he knew or not, the point is- it's wrong.
Unconsciously, I folded my arms tightly across my chest, like a child afraid of breaking something in an expensive shop. I continued to look around, drinking in the details of Simon's world, but careful not to disturb anything.
But… it couldn't hurt to look, right?
An abstract painting that probably cost more than my yearly salary hung on one wall. A mini-bar lay nearby, practically untouched but gleaming with all sorts of expensive liquor. Every item screamed wealth and power.
As I turned to leave, something caught my eye. A small piece of paper or photo peeking out from a book on the shelf.
I looked around. It seemed odd, out of place somehow. Everything else was impeccably neat and tidy. Maybe this wasn't supposed to be here?
Hesitantly, I reached out, grasping the edge of what looked like a photograph. As I began to pull it out, I caught a glimpse of—
"Norman?"