(Elara POV)
Morning comes too quickly.
I realize that the moment I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling, my thoughts are already running faster than they should this early in the day.
Next door.
The word presses itself into my mind before I can stop it.
Alexender Hale lives next door.
I roll onto my side, burying my face into my pillow, as if that might somehow push the thought away. It doesn't work. If anything, it makes it worse.
Last night plays back in fragments—his voice in the elevator, calm and steady. The warmth of his arm around me. The way he said neighbor like it amused him far more than it should have.
Distance was the only thing keeping this safe and now, even that is gone.
I sigh and force myself out of bed.
We step out of our apartments at the same time.
It's such a small thing a coincidence, really — but it still manages to knock the breath out of me.
He's already locking his door when he looks up and notices me. For a fraction of a second, something flickers across his face. Surprise, maybe. Or the same strange awareness that settles into my chest.
"Good morning," he says.
"Morning," I reply, too quickly.
There's an awkward pause, the kind that exists only because neither of us knows how to act when familiarity collides with hierarchy. He's my boss. My neighbor. The man I kissed once and pretended never happened.
We walk toward the elevator together, neither of us commenting on the absurdity of it.
Inside, the silence stretches.
The elevator hums as it descends.
"I'll see you at the office," I say, exiting the elevator.
He glances at me, one eyebrow lifting slightly. "We're going to the same place."
"I meant—" I stop, then let out a small breath. "I meant I like to… walk"
"You don't have to," he says. "We can go together."
"That's okay," I reply quickly. "I don't want to impose."
He gives me a look not annoyed, not impatient. Just mildly amused.
I search for a counterargument.
There isn't one.
"Fine," I say, more quietly than I intend.
Something about the corner of his mouth shifts almost a smile but he says nothing as he leads the way toward his car.
I fall into step beside him.
The city moves past us in streaks of light and shadow.
As we drive, neither of us speaks for a while. The silence isn't awkward, just heavy, like something is waiting to be said.
He breaks it without looking at me.
"I've been meaning to talk to you."
My fingers tighten around my bag. "About?"
"Work," he says calmly. "Before we reach the office."
That alone tells me this isn't casual.
"I don't want to hire another assistant at the moment," he says, matter-of-fact.
I look at him, confused.
"You already know how I work," he continues. "You anticipate what I need before I ask. I don't lose time explaining things. I haven't had that before."
My fingers curl slowly against my palm.
"But," he adds, before I can respond, "I also know where your strength lies. Analysis. That doesn't change."
I lift my eyes to his.
"You'll continue the work you're doing now," he says. "The assistant role is administrative. Managing my calendar. Filtering priorities. Nothing that pulls you away from your growth."
I hesitate. "That's… two roles."
"Yes," he agrees calmly. "And you'll be compensated accordingly."
The word lands heavier than I expect.
"I wouldn't ask if I thought you couldn't handle it," he adds. "But if it's too much, say so. I won't hold it against you."
My chest tightens not because I don't want it, but because I do.
Because accepting this means being seen. Watched. Judged.
And because turning it down feels like stepping backward after finally being trusted.
"I can do it," I say, after a beat. The moment I say it, I realize there's no pretending I'm invisible anymore.
His expression doesn't change, but something in his eyes sharpens approval, maybe.He doesn't smile. He just inclines his head once.
"I thought you would."
And somehow, that feels heavier than praise.
Inside Office, the floor is already buzzing.
I head instinctively toward the back, toward the desk that's become mine after so many quiet humiliations when his voice stops me.
"Elara."
I turn.
"Where are you going?"
"My desk," I say.
He frowns, just slightly. "That doesn't make sense."
I blink. "I—"
"I need you closer," he continues, as if this is obvious. "I'm not walking across the floor every time I need something."
Heat creeps up my neck. "Tessa—"
"I didn't ask what Tessa prefers," he says evenly.
The words land with more force than he probably intends.
"Take your old desk," he adds. "The one outside my office."
My heart stutters.
I nod, unsure what else to do.
As I move, I can already feel eyes on me. Curiosity. Speculation. But for once, I don't let it shrink me.
This wasn't taken. It was given.
Half an hour later, Tessa appears.
She stops short when she sees me sitting there.
Her smile doesn't reach her eyes. "What are you doing here?"
I straighten. "Mr. Hale asked me to move back."
Her laugh is sharp. "That's funny. Because this desk was reassigned."
"Not by him," I replied quietly.
Her gaze hardens. "You think one decent report changes where you belong?"
Alex's cabin door opens.He steps out with a few documents in his hand, already scanning the top page as if the moment hadn't been waiting on my answer.
"What's the issue this time Tessa?" he asks.
The shift is immediate.
Tessa turns, her posture smoothing. "I was just clarifying seating arrangements."
"There's nothing to clarify," he says calmly. "She sits here."
Tessa's jaw tightens. "This creates confusion."
"No," he replies. "It creates efficiency."
Silence.
She nods stiffly. "Of course."
When she walks away, the satisfaction that flickers inside me is small but real.
The rest of the day feels surreal.
I schedule his meetings. Organize his calendar. Sit in discussions I would never have been invited to before.
Every now and then, I catch him glancing toward my desk.
Not possessive. Not obvious.
Just… aware.
Everything feels too good right now.
And I've learned that too good never lasts.
Near the end of the day, I notice something on his schedule.
London.
Departure: Tonight.
Return: One week.
Something twists in my chest.
When he steps out of his office later, jacket in hand, he stops by my desk.
"I'll be gone for a few days," he says.
"I saw," I reply.
"I'll expect updates," he adds.
"Of course."
He hesitates.
Just for a moment.
"Good work today," he says quietly.
Then he turns and walks away.
I watch him go, a strange mix of pride and unease settling inside me.
Things are changing. And I can't tell if that excites me… or scares me more.