I jumped, startled by the sudden outburst. Simon had leaned forward in his chair, his composure finally cracking. His eyes blazed with an intensity I'd never seen before, his voice resonating with a commanding authority that seemed to fill the entire room.
"You have no right to involve Norman in matters that don't concern him," he said, each word deliberate and final.
I sat frozen, barely breathing. In all the time I'd known Simon, I'd never heard him raise his voice, never seen him lose control like this. The sheer power in his tone, the raw emotion behind it, left me stunned.
The room fell into a stunned silence following Simon's outburst. Evelyn's eyes were wide with shock, her usual composure completely shattered. It was clear she had never seen Simon lose control like this either.
"I.." Evelyn stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.
Simon seemed to suddenly realize how much he'd let his mask slip, his face contorting with self recrimination. He raised a hand to his face, shaking his head slowly.
"I apologize for my outburst," Simon said, his voice strained as he tried to regain his usual calm demeanor. Without meeting either of our gazes, Simon turned away. "If you'll excuse me for a moment," he muttered, already moving towards the hallway. "I need to use the bathroom."
As Simon disappeared down the hall, the sound of the bathroom door closing echoed through the silent apartment. I sat there, frozen in place, my mind reeling from what I'd just witnessed. Evelyn remained equally still, her face a mask of confusion and concern.
I glanced at Evelyn, who was absently running her finger around the rim of her coffee cup, her gaze distant. The silence stretched between us, thick with unasked questions. I sat in silence for a moment, my mind racing. The opportunity to learn more about Simon from someone who knew him intimately was right in front of me, but I hesitated.
Finally, I cleared my throat. "Evelyn?"
She looked up, her eyes refocusing on me. "Yes, Norman?"
I opened my mouth, then closed it again, the words sticking in my throat. Evelyn raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing at her lips.
"Go on," she encouraged. "I can see you're dying to ask something."
I took a deep breath. "You and Simon... you were together for a while, right?"
Evelyn nodded, her expression softening slightly. "We were, yes. For several years."
I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt, still unsure how to phrase my next question. "What... what was he like? As a partner, I mean."
To my surprise, Evelyn's face lit up with a genuine smile. "Oh, Simon was wonderful. He's always been so attentive, you know? Always thinking of others before himself."
I blinked, caught off guard by her enthusiastic response. "Really? He never made you feel... I don't know, uncomfortable or anything?"
Evelyn tilted her head, looking at me curiously. "Uncomfortable? No, never. Why would you think that?"
I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "No reason…"
Evelyn laughed softly. "Oh, you mean because of what just happened? To be honest, that surprised me. I've never seen anything like it from him."
I couldn't hide my surprise at Evelyn's words. "He's never raised his voice like that before? Not even once?" I pressed, still struggling to reconcile this information with my own experiences.
Evelyn shook her head, a fond smile playing on her lips. "No, never. Simon's always been the epitome of composure. Even in situations where most people would lose their cool, he remains calm and collected."
I leaned forward, intrigued.
Evelyn let a soft, nostalgic sigh escape her lips. "We were at this fancy restaurant for our anniversary. The waiter mixed up Simon's order, bringing him something he was allergic to."
Evelyn continued, "Most people would have been furious, but not Simon. He just smiled, politely explained the situation, and asked if they could correct the order. He was so patient and understanding, even complimenting the waiter on how well he handled the mistake."
I sat back, struggling to reconcile this image with the Simon I knew - the one hovering above me in the dark of the elevator.
I hesitated for a moment, then decided to push further. "Evelyn, did you ever…have any strange experiences with Simon?"
Evelyn's brow furrowed. "Strange? No, not really. Simon was always so..." She trailed off, her eyes growing distant.
"What is it?" I prompted, leaning forward.
She seemed to shake herself out of a reverie. "Well, now that you mention it, there was something. Towards the end of our relationship, Simon... changed."
I leaned in closer, my heart racing. "What do you mean?"
Evelyn's brow furrowed as she recalled the details. "It was gradual at first. He became... distant. Less affectionate. I'd often catch him staring off into space, like he was lost in thought about something. Then one day, he just ended things."
I swallowed hard. "Just like that? No explanation?"
She nodded slowly.
"When was this?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
Evelyn's answer made my stomach lurch. "It was about five years ago."
Five years ago. The timing couldn't be a coincidence, could it? I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself before speaking again.
"Evelyn," I began, my voice barely above a whisper, "can you tell me more about how Simon changed? What exactly did you notice?"
She leaned back, her eyes growing distant as she recalled the memories. "It was subtle at first. He'd be lost in thought more often, distracted during our conversations. I'd catch him staring at his phone, this strange expression on his face."
I nodded, encouraging her to continue while my mind raced. Was Simon distracted because of me? But why? I was just a new employee, nobody special.
Evelyn continued, "Then he started working late more often. He'd come home exhausted, but there was this... energy about him. Like he was excited about something, but he wouldn't tell me what."
My stomach churned, remembering my earlier days in the company.
I shook my head, trying to dismiss the wild theories spinning through my mind. It was ridiculous, wasn't it? I hadn't even met Simon until a month ago. There was no way he could have known about me for five years and just... did nothing?
But even as I tried to rationalize, a nagging doubt crept in. What if he had been waiting? What if all of this - the chance encounters, the sudden kindness, the invitation to his home - was part of some long-term plan?
"Norman?" Evelyn's voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. "Are you sure you're alright? You look... troubled."
I forced myself to meet her gaze, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'm fine, really. can you remember more specifically when Simon's behavior started to change? Was it a particular month, or maybe tied to a specific event?"
Evelyn furrowed her brow, clearly trying to pinpoint the timeline in her memory. "Let's see... it was definitely in the fall. I remember because we had just gotten back from our summer vacation, and at first, I thought maybe he was just having trouble readjusting to work life."
My heart skipped a beat. I had started at the company in September, five years ago.
"Can you narrow it down any further?" I pressed, trying to keep the urgency out of my voice. "Early fall? Late?"
Evelyn tilted her head, thinking hard. "It was... yes, I'm almost certain it was September. There was this charity gala the company throws every year in early September, and I remember Simon acting oddly distracted that night. That was really the first time I noticed something was off."
I felt my stomach drop.
"Norman," Evelyn said, her voice laced with concern, "Are you sure you're alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"No, no- I'm alright…" I said quietly.
She looked at me curiously, clearly sensing there was more I wasn't saying.
Before she could voice her question, we heard Simon's footsteps approaching. We both fell silent, exchanging a quick, meaningful glance as Simon re-entered the room.
"I apologize for my absence," Simon said smoothly, his composure fully restored.
I forced a smile, trying to appear casual. "Not at all. Evelyn was just telling me about some of the company's past charity events."
Simon's eyes lingered on me for a moment, and I felt a chill run down my spine. Did he suspect what we'd really been discussing?
"Is that so?" Simon said, his tone light but his gaze intense. "I hope Evelyn didn't bore you with too many details."
Evelyn laughed, the sound slightly strained. "Oh, come now, Simon. You always seemed to enjoy them well enough."
As they fell into polite conversation, I sat back, my mind whirling. The timeline Evelyn had provided matched perfectly with my arrival at the company. But what did it mean? Had Simon really been aware of me all this time? And if so, what had he been waiting for?
I watched Simon carefully as he spoke, trying to see the perfect gentleman Evelyn had described. But as I studied Simon, all I could see was the man who had been making me increasingly uneasy over the past weeks.
Simon must have felt my gaze because he suddenly turned to look at me. His lips curved into a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. Those remained dark, intense, almost predatory.
That smile. It was the same one he'd given me countless times before.
I glanced at Evelyn, who was sipping her coffee, seemingly oblivious to the tension I felt. How could she not see it? How could anyone not see the darkness lurking just beneath Simon's polished surface?
As I watched Simon effortlessly guide the conversation, charming Evelyn with anecdotes and well-timed quips, I marveled at his skill. He was like a chameleon, adapting his personality to fit whatever the situation required. With Evelyn, he was warm and familiar. With his employees, he was professional yet approachable. And with me... well, I still wasn't sure what game he was playing.
I felt a growing sense of isolation. Was I the only one who could see through Simon's facade?
As Simon laughed at something Evelyn said, his eyes flicked back to me. For a split second, I saw something in them - a knowing look, as if he could read my thoughts. It was gone in an instant, replaced by his usual pleasant expression, but it left me shaken.
How did Simon do it? How did he maintain this perfect exterior while simultaneously making me feel so on edge?
What the hell was he playing at?
As Evelyn and Simon continued their polite conversation, I tried to relax, sipping my coffee and hoping to fade into the background. But then Evelyn asked an innocent question that shattered my illusion of calm.
"So, Simon, what are your plans for the rest of the day?" she inquired casually.
Simon's lips curved into that unsettling smile again. "Actually, I've already fulfilled my obligations for today. I was planning on spending the afternoon with Norman."
I had just taken a sip of coffee, and at Simon's words, I involuntarily sprayed it across the table, coughing and spluttering.
"I'm sorry, what?" I managed to choke out between coughs.
Simon's hand was immediately on my back, patting it gently. The touch made my skin crawl. "Are you alright, Norman?" he asked, his voice laced with concern that didn't quite reach his eyes.
Evelyn looked between us, her brow furrowed in confusion. "I didn't realize you two had plans," she said slowly.
I certainly hadn't realized it either!?
Simon smiled, "I thought I'd take Norman shopping for some essentials. Given the unfortunate situation with his apartment, he's in need of some furniture and clothes."
I opened my mouth to protest, but Simon continued, "And I'd be more than happy to cover the expenses."
"That's really not necessary," I stammered, trying to find a polite way to refuse. "I couldn't possibly-"
Simon's eyes locked onto mine, his gaze intense. "Norman, did you have renter's insurance?"
I felt my stomach drop. I'd always meant to get insurance, but it had seemed like an unnecessary expense at the time. Now, faced with Simon's direct question, I found myself unable to speak, my silence damning.
Simon nodded, as if my lack of response confirmed his suspicions. "I see. And do you have the funds to replace everything you've lost?"
I turned my face away, unable to meet his eyes. I could feel the heat of shame creeping up my neck. Of course I didn't have the money. I'd been living paycheck to paycheck for years.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Simon's lips curve into a satisfied smile.
"Well then," he said, his tone maddeningly reasonable, "it seems settled. We'll go shopping this afternoon."
Evelyn looked between us, her expression a mix of confusion and concern. "That's... very generous of you, Simon."
I wanted to protest further, to insist that I could manage on my own. But the truth was, I couldn't. And Simon knew it. He had me cornered, using my own misfortune and lack of foresight against me.
"I... thank you," I managed to say, the words tasting bitter in my mouth.
Evelyn was looking at us curiously now, her eyes darting between Simon and me. I wondered if she could sense the tension, if she could see through Simon's facade the way I could.
"Well," Evelyn said, standing up, "I should probably get going then. I wouldn't want to intrude on your plans."
Simon's smile widened, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd just lost some important battle.
As Evelyn stood to leave, I noticed her giving Simon an intense look. He responded with a subtle nod, an unspoken communication that left me feeling even more out of my depth.
As the door clicked shut behind Evelyn, Simon and I remained seated on the couch, an uncomfortable silence settling between us. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for another attempt to refuse his offer.
"Simon," I began, my voice firm with a newfound resolve, "I really appreciate your generosity, but I can't accept. It's too much, and I wouldn't feel right about it. I'll figure something out on my own."
I waited for his response, my heart pounding. But Simon didn't react. He simply sat there, his face impassive, as if I hadn't spoken at all. The silence stretched on, becoming almost unbearable.
Just as I was about to speak again, to insist that he acknowledge my refusal, Simon turned to me. His eyes roamed over my form, and I suddenly felt acutely self-conscious.
"I see you're wearing the clothes I laid out for you this morning," he said, his tone casual but his gaze intense.
I blinked, thrown by the abrupt change of subject. It was happening again - Simon's selective hearing, his complete disregard for anything he didn't want to address.
"I... yes, thank you. But about the shopping-"
"The fabric is quite comfortable, isn't it?" Simon continued as if I hadn't spoken. "I thought it would be a good fit for your frame."
I shrunk away from him slightly. The way he spoke about choosing clothes for me, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, made me deeply uncomfortable. And his complete dismissal of my attempt to refuse his offer left me feeling frustrated.
But, wait.
He only does this when we were alone, right?
My mind flashed back to the interaction with Evelyn. Even when she brought up his family, a topic that clearly upset him, Simon had still engaged in a two-way dialogue. He had responded to her questions, acknowledged her statements, even if he didn't like what she was saying.
But with me, in this moment of privacy, it was different. Simon was treating our conversation like a monologue, picking and choosing which parts to respond to, completely disregarding anything that didn't fit his narrative.
The contrast was stark and unsettling. Why did Simon behave so differently with me? What was it about our private interactions that made him feel he could simply ignore my words, my questions, my objections?
A creeping sense of apprehension overtook me as I considered the implications. This wasn't just rudeness or absent-mindedness. This was deliberate.
I was lost in my swirling thoughts when Simon's voice suddenly cut through, snapping me back to reality.
"...don't you think, dear?"
I blinked, realizing I'd missed most of what he'd said. Had he just called me 'dear'?
"I'm sorry, what?" I asked, trying to regain my bearings.
Simon smiled, that same unsettling smile that never quite reached his eyes. "I said I'll call a car for us. It should be here shortly."
"A car?" I repeated, confusion evident in my voice. "But don't you have your own car? Why don't we just drive ourselves?"
Simon chuckled softly, as if I'd said something amusing. "Shopping is always easier with a driver. No need to worry about parking or carrying bags back and forth. Trust me, it's much more convenient."
Before I could say anything more, he was already pulling out his phone, presumably to call for the car.
As we stepped out of Simon's apartment building, I couldn't help but notice how effortlessly he charmed everyone we encountered. The doorman beamed at him, the lobby attendant waved cheerfully, and even a passing resident stopped to exchange pleasantries.
When we reached the car, I was surprised to see the driver step out and approach us with a wide smile. "Mr. Heath," he said warmly, extending his hand.
Simon shook it firmly, clapping his other hand on the driver's shoulder in a gesture of familiarity. "Good to see you, John. How did your daughter's flute recital go?"
As they chatted briefly, I marveled at Simon's ability to make everyone feel important, valued. It was such a stark contrast to how he interacted with me in private.
The driver moved to open the rear door, but Simon smoothly stepped forward. "I've got it, John," he said, reaching for the handle himself.
As Simon held the door open for me, a sense of déjà vu washed over me. I was suddenly transported back to that first night, when Simon had given me a ride home in the rain.
I'm a man, damn it.
I can get the damn door myself.
I hesitated for a moment before sliding into the car, acutely aware of Simon's presence behind me. As I settled into the plush leather seat, Simon joined me in the backseat, sitting close enough that I could smell his cologne.
The car door shut behind Simon, and I snuck a glance at him from the corner of my eye, trying to get a read on him.
He was acting normal enough now.
So what was with last night?
"Comfortable?" Simon asked, his voice low and smooth.
I could only nod.
However, as the car pulled away from the curb, I found myself instinctively shrinking away from Simon, my arms wrapping around my body in a defensive posture. The close proximity was making me increasingly uncomfortable.
Simon turned his head, his piercing gaze taking in my hunched form. "Are you cold, Norman?" he asked, his voice laced with what sounded like concern.
No, I'm not cold. I'm terrified.
Not wanting to admit the real reason for my discomfort, I nodded. "Y-yes, a bit," I lied.
"I'll ask the driver to turn up the heat," Simon said, reaching for the intercom button.
"No, it's alright," I quickly interjected. "Please don't bother him. I'm fine, really."
Simon paused, then reached to remove his coat. "Here, take my coat then."
His coat? No. No, I don't want to wear anything of his.
The thought of being enveloped in Simon's scent, his warmth, made my stomach churn. I shook my head, trying to maintain some distance. "No, thank you. I'm okay, honestly."
Simon fell silent for a moment, and I dared to hope he'd let the matter drop.
But then he turned to me again, a charming facade of a smile across his lips. He extended his hand, palm up, towards me.
"Would you like to hold my hand, then?" he asked, his voice casual. "It might help warm you up."
I blinked, staring at his outstretched hand, not quite sure if I'd heard him correctly.
Is he seriously asking to hold my hand right now?
He is.
…the fuck?
The moment stretched on, Simon's hand hanging in the air between us, as I struggled to find a response that wouldn't make this already uncomfortable situation even worse.
But before I could force any words out, Simon suddenly chuckled, the sound cutting through the thick silence. He retracted his hand, settling it back on his lap.
"I'm only teasing, Norman," he said, his tone light but controlled.
I exhaled a breath I hadn't known I'd been holding, thrown completely off-balance by this abrupt shift.
Teasing? That was teasing?
Relief warred with confusion and lingering unease in my chest. On one hand, I was grateful I didn't have to find a way to refuse his offer. On the other, the idea that Simon found my discomfort amusing was deeply unsettling.
"Oh," I managed to say, my voice sounding weak even to my own ears. "Right. Of course."
I tried to force a laugh, but it came out as more of a strangled cough. Simon was still watching me, that enigmatic smile playing on his lips.
As Simon turned to look out the window, seemingly content to let the conversation drop. The car fell into silence for a while, and I felt some of the tension in my shoulders ease as Simon turned to look out the window. I allowed myself to relax slightly, grateful for the momentary reprieve from his intense focus.
But just as I was beginning to feel more comfortable, Simon suddenly turned back to me, his piercing gaze locking onto mine once again.
"Norman," he began, a subtle smile on his face, "I've been meaning to commend you on the Hernandez account. Your approach was quite innovative."
"Oh- uh, thank you, sir." I replied, caught off guard by the praise.
"The financial model you developed was particularly impressive," Simon continued, his voice smooth and measured. "It showed a deep understanding of the client's needs. The client was very pleased, from what I hear. How did you come up with that solution?"
"I... didn't realize you were involved with that project, sir.," I admitted.
"Of course," Simon replied, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I make it a point to stay informed about promising talent in our company."
"The team really deserves the credit, sir," I said, shifting uncomfortably. "We all contributed to that account."
Simon smiled, his voice warm and approving. "Your humility is commendable. It's good to see someone so willing to share success."
I opened my mouth to protest further, but Simon continued smoothly.
"You know, your approach reminds me of something called 'shine theory.' Are you familiar with it?"
I shook my head, curious despite myself.
"It's a concept that suggests when you help others shine, you all shine brighter together," Simon explained, his tone both instructive and conversational. "By lifting up your team, you're not diminishing your own light - you're amplifying it."
He leaned back slightly, his posture open and relaxed. "It's a principle I've always tried to embody in my own leadership. And I must say, seeing you naturally apply it is quite impressive. It's something that most people have to learn."
His tone was warm but professional, his words carefully chosen. Despite my wariness, I felt a small glow of pride at his words. Simon's charm was palpable, his attention flattering. For a moment, I almost forgot why I had been so wary of him in the first place.
But then I remembered who exactly I was talking to.
This is how he does it, I realized. This is how he wins people over.
His charm was like a finely honed weapon, designed to disarm and captivate. In another context, in another life, I might have been thoroughly impressed, maybe even smitten.
But knowing what I knew, having seen what I'd seen, I remained on guard.
I'm onto you, Simon, I thought, even as I forced a polite smile in response.
"Speaking of which," Simon suddenly continued naturally, "How are you finding your place in the company these days? I'm curious about your relationships with your coworkers. Everything going well?"
I felt my shoulders tense slightly. Careful now, I thought. He's fishing for something.
"It's... fine," I managed, trying to keep my voice steady. "Everyone's been very professional."
Simon's eyes seemed to bore into me, as if he could see the thoughts swirling behind my carefully neutral expression.
"Just professional?" Simon probed, his eyebrow raising a fraction. "No workplace friendships forming? No one you've become particularly close to?"
Simon was checking if anyone else at work had caught my attention, if there was any potential "distraction" that might threaten his control over my time and attention. Emily's face flashed in my mind - her sudden interest in me, followed by her even more sudden downfall.
I chose my next words carefully.
"Not really," I said, trying to sound casual. "I tend to keep to myself, mostly. You know, focus on my work."
Simon nodded slowly, a hint of approval in his eyes.
"Well," Simon said, his tone lightening slightly, "I've always admired your focus on your work, Norman. It's refreshing to see someone so dedicated to their job."
The implied threat in his words hung in the air between us. I forced a small smile. "Of course. Work is my priority."
That's what you wanted to hear, right?
"Excellent," Simon said, patting my knee briefly. The touch shooting goosebumps up my leg. "That's what I like to hear."
As he turned back to the window, I let out a quiet breath. The car felt smaller somehow, Simon's presence looming large despite the physical distance between us.
It felt like an eternity of tense sufferance until the car pulled to a stop along the bustling main street. As we stepped out, I immediately felt the stark contrast between Simon and myself. His tailored suit and confident posture exuded wealth and power, while I felt rumpled and out of place in my borrowed clothes.
Pedestrians bustled around us, some casting curious glances our way. I shifted uncomfortably, acutely aware of how we must look standing side by side – Simon, the epitome of success, and me, clearly not belonging in this upscale shopping district.
Simon seemed oblivious to my discomfort, surveying the street with a proprietary air. "Well," he started, turning to me with a smile, "where would you like to start?"
I glanced up and down the street, recognizing designer boutiques and high-end furniture stores whose windows I'd only ever window-shopped before. The idea of actually entering any of them made my palms sweat.
"I, uh... I'm not sure," I admitted, "I don't usually shop in this area."
Simon's smile widened slightly. "No need to be intimidated, Norman. They're all just people, after all."
"Come," Simon said, placing a hand on my back to guide me towards a nearby store. The touch, though light, made me tense up, though I didn't have the courage to pull away. "I know a store that might be a bit less daunting for you."