Elaine was halfway back to her desk when Lila intercepted her like a missile.
"What did you do?" Lila hissed.
Elaine blinked, perplexed. "What do you mean?"
"Blake just walked past my office looking like he swallowed a live grenade."
Elaine suppressed a smile. "We just ... talked."
"Talked?" Lila repeated, scanning Elaine's face as if searching for scorch marks. "Define that, because Blake 'talks' to people the way storms 'drizzle.'"
"It was…a conversation." Pause. When Elaine noticed Lila's immovable expression, she quickly added, "mostly."
"Oh my God." The petite woman with impeccable taste in shoes and legs faster than Usain Bolt dropped her head into her hands. "I need stronger coffee."
Elaine patted her sympathetically. "It's fine. Really."
"It's not fine," Lila said. "I don't know what gravitational chaos the universe is cooking, but Blake has looked at you more in one day than he's looked at anyone here in three years."
Elaine's stomach fluttered. She tried to play it cool.
She shrugged. "I'm just doing my job."
"You're doing something," Lila muttered, "and he's forgetting how to compartmentalize his emotions."
Before Elaine could respond, a quiet voice cut in.
"Morning."
Henry leaned against her cubicle wall again, his smile bright enough to illuminate the entire floor. Lila straightened instantly and inhaled sharply.
"Oh, bother," she whispered. "Here comes the plot twist."
Henry ignored her and zeroed in on Elaine. "We're going out for lunch," he said, nodding toward a group of young staffers gathering near the elevator. "Wanna come?" Elaine hesitated. Henry was easy. Charming. Fun. In contrast, Blake was…none of those things. But the moment Henry asked, something warm and petty sparked inside her—because she knew Blake wouldn't like her going. Which was precisely why she wanted to.
Grabbing her bag, she said, "Sure."
Henry's smile widened.
Lila mouthed, "You're playing with fire."
Elaine winked back. "I know."
Grosvenor Global's staff cafeteria was basically a gourmet restaurant disguised as workplace nourishment. Floor-to-ceiling windows, pendant lighting, and food that made Elaine question the reality of her intern stipend.
Henry introduced her to the group — several analysts, two other interns, and a woman named Sofia Calderon, whom Elaine instantly liked. Sofia had dark curls piled in a messy bun, a blazer that didn't match her pants, and the vibe of someone who ran on caffeine and brilliance.
"So you're the new intern," Sofia said, sliding into a seat next to Elaine. "Henry said you've already broken the boss."
"I didn't break him," Elaine said.
Henry smirked. "You bent him, at least." Elaine threw her head back and cackled.
It felt good—normal—to be around people her age, people not intimidated by her or Blake or the pressure swirling around the top floor. She relaxed…until she felt it. A shift in the room. A prickling awareness along her spine. She didn't have to look to know.
Blake had entered the cafeteria. And he wasn't alone. Two executives flanked him, walking with purpose. Blake himself was in full Ice King mode—sharp suit, sharper gaze, an aura that made lesser employees straighten their backs and fix their posture. As they moved past occupied tables, people in their way scrambled in various directions.
Elaine kept her eyes down, refusing to indulge the instinct to look up. Too late. She could feel his stare lock onto her table the way a magnet snapped into place. Henry seemed to notice, too.
"Well, well," Henry murmured, leaning back with amusement. "Looks like someone's jealous."
"Don't," Elaine said softly.
"Why not?" he teased. "I like getting reactions out of him."
Elaine shot Henry a look. "You're going to get me killed."
"Nah." He grinned. "He likes you too much." Her heart stumbled. She willed it to behave.
As Blake passed their table, she kept her gaze forward. Professional. Completely uninterested. So naturally, it only made his attention cling harder.
She saw him in her peripheral view —his jaw tightening slightly, eyes flicking to Henry, then to her, then away again with studied indifference. He didn't break stride. Didn't blink. Didn't stop. But the air he left behind was thick enough to chew.
Henry arched a brow. "Subtle."
"He's not—" Elaine started.
Sofia cut in. "Oh, honey, he's definitely into you."
Elaine groaned. "Can we not?"
Sofia slurped her iced coffee. "We're absolutely going to."
Lunch ended, and the group dispersed back toward the elevators. Henry lingered near Elaine as they waited for the doors to open.
He nudged her. "You know, if he's giving you trouble, you can always hang around with me more. We'll drive him crazy."
Elaine chuckled. "You're enjoying this way too much."
"Oh, definitely."
The elevator doors opened. People piled in. Elaine stepped inside just as a hand caught the door from the outside. Blake. He didn't look at Henry. Didn't look at anyone else. Just her.
"Ms. Wright," he said, voice smooth but taut. "A moment, please?"
The entire elevator went silent.
Sofia mouthed, "Good luck," before the doors closed. Elaine followed Blake to a quieter hallway. He stood rigid, hands clasped behind his back, staring out the window. She waited. Finally, he spoke. "You shouldn't—"He stopped, jaw flexing. "Lunch during work hours is acceptable. But…" Another pause. A struggle. "…you should be aware that certain staff have reputations."
Elaine tilted her head. "Reputations like what?"
Blake inhaled sharply. "Henry Clarke is…unfocused. Distracted. And he lacks professional boundaries."
Elaine crossed her arms, humoring him. "And what exactly are your boundaries, Mr. Grosvenor?" His eyes snapped to hers, a mixture of fire, ice, and turbulence. Her body shivered involuntarily.
"Do not," he warned quietly, "test me."
"Maybe I already am."
They stood inches apart again, the tension between them magnetic, as if pulling them closer without permission.
"Tell me," she whispered, "why it bothers you." He didn't move. Didn't breathe. Didn't blink.
Then he said, voice barely audible, "It doesn't." That was a bald-faced lie, and they both knew it.
Elaine smiled slowly. "You're a terrible liar."
Blake's composure cracked—just slightly—but enough to reveal something raw beneath. "Get back to work," he said, voice low. But he didn't walk away. He stood there. Watching her leave. Wanting something he refused to touch. And she? She savored every second of it.