Ethan was beginning to understand that working for Lila Devereaux was like walking a tightrope over a pit of fire. One misstep, and he'd fall. Yet, for reasons he couldn't entirely explain, he wasn't ready to back down.
The week passed in a blur of late nights and high-pressure tasks, each one more challenging than the last. Lila expected nothing short of perfection, and though Ethan was far from perfect, he refused to give her the satisfaction of breaking him.
By Friday evening, the office was nearly empty, the hum of fluorescent lights the only sound in the cavernous space. Ethan sat at his desk, squinting at a spreadsheet that seemed determined to mock him with its endless columns of data. His shoulders ached, and his stomach growled—a sharp reminder that he hadn't eaten since noon.
"You're still here."
The voice startled him, and he turned to see Lila standing a few feet away, a coffee cup in her hand. Her blazer was gone, and her sleeves were rolled up—a rare, almost human look for her. She didn't wait for an invitation, stepping closer to peer at his screen.
"Trying to make sense of the quarterly projections," Ethan said, his voice rough with fatigue. "Your instructions were… specific."
"They always are," she replied, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "You've lasted longer than I expected."
"Is that a compliment?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"An observation," she said, leaning against the edge of his desk. Her tone softened slightly as she added, "Most people don't survive their first week."
Ethan set his pen down, leaning back in his chair. "I'm not most people."
Lila's smirk faded, replaced by something more guarded. "So I've noticed."
For a moment, silence stretched between them. Lila's gaze drifted to the window, where the city lights twinkled against the dark sky. Ethan followed her gaze, surprised to see a flicker of something unguarded in her expression—fatigue, maybe, or something deeper.
"Do you ever stop?" he asked suddenly.
She blinked, turning back to him. "Excuse me?"
"You're always on," Ethan said, gesturing to her as if that explained everything. "Every time I see you, it's like you're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. Doesn't it get exhausting?"
For a moment, he thought she might snap at him, but instead, Lila studied him with an intensity that made him shift in his seat. "You think I have a choice?" she asked quietly. "In this world, the moment you let your guard down, you lose. And I don't lose."
Ethan frowned. "That's no way to live."
"It's the only way," she said firmly, though there was a flicker of doubt in her eyes. She pushed off the desk, straightening her posture. "You wouldn't understand."
"Try me," Ethan countered, standing now. He wasn't sure where the courage was coming from—maybe exhaustion, maybe frustration, maybe something else entirely. "I'm not some spoiled rich kid playing office politics. I know what it's like to fight for every inch. So don't assume you've got me all figured out."
Her eyes narrowed, but there was no anger in her voice when she replied. "And don't assume you understand me, Mr. Blake. This isn't some underdog story where you swoop in and change everything. This is reality. My reality."
Ethan opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Lila turned and began walking toward her office. Just as she reached the door, she paused, glancing back at him.
"You did well this week," she said, her voice quieter now. "Don't screw it up."
Then she was gone, leaving Ethan standing alone in the empty office. He let out a slow breath, his thoughts a tangled mess. For all her sharp edges, there was something about Lila that didn't quite add up. Something she was hiding behind the walls she'd built so carefully.
And for reasons he couldn't quite explain, he found himself wanting to know what it was.