Colliding Worlds.
Like the guy himself, Ethan Whitaker had a keen, charged vibe in his workplace. With her fists clenched tightly as though to bolster her resolve, Clara stood erect in front of his desk. With hawk-like accuracy, Ethan's dark eyes were focused on her as he sat behind a sleek, obsidian desk. Unspoken anxiety weighed heavily on the thin quiet.
Ethan said in a low, thoughtful voice, "So, Miss Hawthorne, what exactly were you looking for?"
Clara swallowed without hesitation. "I wasn't trying to find anything in particular. I was getting acquainted with the business.
"Do you call it that?" With an inscrutable expression, Ethan leaned back. "You seem to be prying into things that don't concern you with your 'familiarizing.'"
Clara lost her temper. "I didn't pry. And without trust, loyalty is impossible.
A thin, sardonic smirk curved Ethan's lips. "Trust," he repeated, the word laden with contempt. "Trust is not granted; it must be earned."
Clara refused to give up and tightened her fists. Then perhaps you ought to quit making everyone feel as though they must tread carefully. You can't trust someone if you don't give them a chance.
Something briefly shifted in Ethan's eyes, maybe a hint of astonishment or perhaps respect. However, it vanished as swiftly as it had emerged. He spoke in a chilly whisper as he leaned forward. Clara, the truth won't release you. It will ruin you.
Clara resisted the words, which came as a slap. He had already withdrawn behind the wall of his stoicism when she looked for answers in his expression.
Ethan returned his attention to the computer. He dismissed her and remarked, "That will be all."
Clara's thoughts were racing as she left his office. What did he conceal? And why did she feel as though she was perched on the brink of something perilous?
Long, shifting shadows were formed on Clara's desk by the midday sun as it flooded through the office's high windows. Ethan's cryptic warning had taken up so much of her attention that she had hardly touched the sandwich she had grabbed that morning.
"Is it lunch break or are you attempting to make an impression?" She was startled out of her reverie by Bernard's voice. When Clara looked up, she saw her old acquaintance holding a brown paper bag next to her desk.
"Bernard!" she said, her face bursting with relief. "Why are you in this place?"
He put the bag in front of her and added, "I thought you'd need this." "When you're stressed, you forget to eat."
Her shoulders began to relax a little as she grinned. "You save lives."
Bernard nodded toward Ethan's office and remarked, "I noticed that the temperature has dropped in here, though." "What's the matter with him?"
Clara paused. "He's... complex."
Bernard whispered, "Complicated doesn't excuse being a tyrant." "Clara, exercise caution. There are rumors that he is ruthless.
At that moment, Ethan's office door opened. He emerged, his piercing eyes focusing on Bernard. Something raw and unreadable briefly appeared as a shadow on Ethan's face.
"To her, who is he?" Ethan's jaw tensed as he thought.
Bernard lowered his voice and leaned in closer to Clara. "I really do mean it. Be on your guard.
As he heard some of the talk, Ethan's eyes narrowed. Startled to see him standing there, Clara turned. The strain in his posture spoke more than his unreadable look.
Ethan vanished back into his office as Bernard left. Long after, Clara could still feel the weight of his stare.
Clara worked late into the night in an eerily quiet workplace, the only sound being the hum of distant city traffic. Papers littered her desk, and her sketches were strewn around like pieces of her determination. Every second of the clock served as a reminder of the impossibly tight deadline that loomed over her.
The silence was broken by a voice. "Are you still present?"
Ethan was standing in the shadows with his sleeves rolled up and his tie free when Clara whirled around in her chair. He gave off the impression of being flawless during the day, but this was a rare look at the guy behind the armor.
"You're shocked that I'm carrying out my duties?" Clara retaliated, her fatigue bolstering her resistance.
Ethan took a step forward, his eyes evaluating. "You're obstinate," he said. Not always is that a good thing.
"And you're unrelenting," Clara shot back. "But here we are."
Their conversation was tense, with every word carrying a hidden message. Before breaking the quiet, Ethan's gaze lingered on her for an excessive amount of time. This is not a job for the weak of heart. Get out of here now if you can't handle it.
Clara stood and looked him in the eye. "I won't be leaving."
He faltered momentarily in his stoicism. He brushed a hand through his hair and turned away. His sleeve was pulled back by the motion, exposing a small, jagged scar on his wrist. Clara bit her tongue as her breath caught and concerns surfaced.
The silence was broken by Ethan's voice. "Clara, don't delve into things you don't understand."
Without another word, he left, leaving her alone in the dark with his warning weighing heavily on her chest. Clara grew more certain when the door clicked closed. She would discover whatever Ethan Whitaker was concealing.
As Clara crouched over her sketchpad, the faint light from her desk lamp created long, sluggish shadows on the office walls. Her imagination was full of possibilities, but the world outside the glass windows was shrouded in darkness. Ethan had warned her earlier that night, and she couldn't forget it. Like an unwanted ghost, it haunted her mind, demanding that her hands work more quickly and that her pencil move with frantic accuracy.
Her despair, resolve, and doubts appeared to be conveyed in every line on the page. Clara was putting all of her energy into the design, not just drawing. Bold strokes connected the lines, which evoked a sense of defiance, strength, and elegance. Lost in the rhythm of creation, she didn't pause to clean the graphite that her fingers had smudged.
She didn't realize that Ethan was standing in the doorway, hidden by the shadows that seemed to hold him. His eyes were keen, tracking the fire in her face, the set of her jaw, and the motions of her hands. She was not just resolute, but unrelenting, and it evoked in him a long-dormant echo of adoration mixed with apprehension.
Clara stopped, cocking her head as though she could hear her own thoughts murmuring. Her voice was quiet but determined as she whispered to herself, "This has to work."
Ethan's thoughts were at odds, and his jaw stiffened. She had a spark that he hadn't seen in years, despite the fact that she was unpolished and raw. However, sparks had the power to start fires, and fires ate everything in their path. Unseen but uneasy, he retreated into the darkness.
With his hands balled into fists, Ethan thought, "I'll push her harder." It will be better for her if she breaks. For us both.
Clara sighed in frustration as she was startled by the sound of her pencil splintering on the page. She had no idea that the invisible observer had already chosen to push her boundaries.
With her sketches neatly tucked under her arm, Clara entered the office the following morning with a newfound resolve. A soft, honeyed voice pierced the air, and she hardly noticed the eyes that followed her every step.
"Isn't it, Clara?"
She turned to see Gabrielle Richards, a smile that stopped short of her eyes softening her severe features. Gabrielle arrived with feline grace, her Gucci suit spotless, her confidence evident in every move.
Clara said, "Yes," but she was nervous about the sudden focus. "Are you, too?"
"Gabrielle Richards," she began, holding out a hand that was immaculately manicured. Ethan's relative. I am aware of you.
Clara paused, then shook her hand, her intuition tingling at Gabrielle's too-friendly manner. "I was unaware that I was being discussed."
Gabrielle chuckled softly, but her eyes were fixed on Clara with calculating accuracy. "You've left a big impression in a short period of time. Ethan is not attracted to many individuals, much less retains it.
Sensing the double-edged complement, Clara tensed. "My job is the only reason I'm here."
Gabrielle's tone was too sweet to be sincere when she answered, "Of course you are." Her voice trailed off as she drew slightly closer. "Allow me to provide you some guidance. This location can be a bit... harsh. Someone will be necessary to guide you through it.
"And you're willing to assist?" With obvious suspicion, Clara inquired.
With a knowing smile, Gabrielle replied, "Think of it as a favor." "Here, survival is about knowing who to trust, not about skill."
Clara squinted her eyes. The offer of support was alluring, despite every instinct telling them that Gabrielle was trouble. She nodded against her better judgment. "I'll give it some thought."
Gabrielle grinned broadly. "Wise decision."
Clara felt a knot in her gut as Gabrielle left. She got the unshakeable impression that she had just struck a bargain with the devil.
Ethan's expression darkened as he watched the discussion in the darkness of his office. With a low growl, he whispered, "So, the games begin."