Chapter 16
MAYA
It happens as soon as I step into the archive room in the basement; the musty scent of dust and paper is all around me.
It lingers in the air, and that, coupled with the deliberately dim lighting makes me feel like I’m stepping into the past; old, dark and archaic. Looking around, I observe that the rows of shelves stretch up higher than I expected.
I’ve been working hard on collating the information he wants. I want to do a good job for Zach, and if I’m honest, I think a part of it is because pleasing him feels easier and more fulfilling than pleasing Katherine.
It also feels … good.
More personal.
I don’t know, maybe I’m getting reeled into something I’m trying hard to resist. Maybe I should have asked one of my colleagues to help me, but I don’t want to give Katherine even more reason to be annoyed with me by taking another member of staff away from her work.
Getting someone else to help me with Zach’s project would do just that.
I let out a sigh as I realize the size of this task. Labeled boxes and binders fill every space. There’s so much data and Zach won’t need all of it. It would take me months to sift through everything.
This work isn’t going to be easy, but it needs to be done.
Some of the product lines go back decades, and they’re documented in old catalogs, with many handwritten notes.
Price lists printed on thick cream paper.
It’s slower work than anything I’ve done so far, but this history of how the business started is important.
The first product lines were the spine of the business and from there on, everything was refined, improved upon.
Stella evolved with the times, responding to changing fashions and expectations while still holding onto its heritage of craftsmanship, quality and understated elegance.
The air feels heavier down here, making me feel claustrophobic and hemmed in, like I need to go up to the surface and breathe again.
After a few hours, I decide to change tack, and pull only the most recent files, skimming for patterns and red flags.
I climb the ladder and I’m halfway up, tugging a box free, when I hear the door open behind me.
“Maya?” I startle, the sound of Zach’s voice reaches across the room and I’m acutely aware of his presence here, underground, with me.
Goosebumps ripple over my arms and down my spine.
I heft a box between me and the ladder, resting it gently against it, so I can take a moment to recover as I hold onto it.
The boxes, thankfully, aren’t too big, and also not as heavy as I expected.
He’s by my side in an instant. “What are you doing?” he cries, looking up at me in disbelief. I’m so glad that I’m wearing trousers.
“I’m fine,” I say, but it’s not true. Not with him standing so close and looking at me like that, like I’m precious and he’s afraid I might fall and break.
I manage to move the box under my arm. It’s tricky, putting my arm around it, and holding it close enough that it won’t fall, while also gripping the ladder with the other hand, and slowly climbing back down. It’s also dangerous and silly. I should have asked someone to help me.
“Careful, Maya!” His voice is sharp. He reaches up for the box. “Give that to me.”
Before I can argue, he takes ahold of the box and I feel a sense of relief. But there’s something else, too. Something hot coiling in my lower belly. My skin feels suddenly hot, and a throbbing starts between my thighs.
“You could’ve fallen,” he says, setting the box down on the long, wooden table in the middle of the room. His tone isn’t angry, just concerned. “Why did you do this alone? You should’ve asked me, or gotten someone to help you.”
I shrug, trying to downplay it. “I didn’t want to bother anyone.”
“You can bother me anytime.”
His words land like tiny sparks, grazing my skin and making me take note.
Being here, with Zach, in an enclosed space, feels both exciting and dangerous.
I start to climb down, focusing on my footing, when my heel slips on one of the rungs and I cry out.
In the next instant, Zach’s hands are on me, firm and supportive.
One arm wraps around my waist, solid and sure, the other braces against the ladder.
All I can think about is every point where our bodies touch.
“Just step down slowly,” he coaxes.
I miss the last rung and lurch forward before I can stop myself, losing my balance and stumbling into him. I instinctively grab the front of his shirt to steady myself, as I fall into him. His body absorbs the impact easily, and his grip tightens just enough to keep me upright.
For a split second I’m pressed flush against his hard and unyielding body, breathless and painfully aware of how close we are.
His sweet breath skims my face, and I can feel the heat of him, the strength in his arms, the way his body has gone completely still as if he’s afraid to move. It’s like he’s fighting the same thing I am—not sure whether to pull apart or stay like this.
I look up, to find Zach staring down at me, his jaw tight, his expression unmasked and unfiltered, like he’s trying to hold back, but can’t.
His eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them.
His grip around me isn’t too tight, but firm enough to make me extremely aware that his hands are on my body.
I feel hot and tingly all over. In this frozen, suspended moment, my hands slide upwards slightly.
It’s instinctive, and I don’t fully understand why I’m doing this.
My hands aren’t quite touching his neck, they’re not that far up, not quite crossing that line, but they’re close enough that I know exactly what I’m doing.
And he knows it, too, because his Adam’s apple bobs, like he’s afraid to swallow, or breathe.
Maybe he’s nervous. Maybe he’s not.
But then he slowly and deliberately lets go, taking a step back as his hands drop to his sides. The sudden absence of him feels so cold.
“Careful,” he says quietly, his eyes not meeting mine.
“You always have my back,” I say before I can stop myself. My voice is softer now. “You always have.” I realize it in that very moment, sharp and as sudden as a bolt of lightning.
His eyes flicker. “I’ll always look out for you, Maya. You should know that by now.”
I wait with bated breath, hoping, wanting, wishing he would say more. But he doesn’t. I don’t move. I’m standing too near him for comfort, and, exactly where I’m not afraid to be.
“Maya,” he says, carefully, his eyes pinning mine. “This needs to stay professional. You asked for that.”
He’s not wrong. Around him my guard is slipping, brick by brick.
I’m starting to feel more aware of him in ways that have nothing to do with work anymore.
I scratch the back of my neck absent-mindedly, unsure of myself and how I feel.
“I just… I like working with you,” I blurt out, with full honesty.
I close my eyes, frowning as the words reverberate around the room.
When I look up, his eyes are on me. Searching.
Examining. Assessing. He nods, before turning back to the boxes, giving me space even though I don’t really want it.
I hate that he’s choosing to ignore me when his attention is what I now find myself craving.
“I’ll come back to this after lunch,” I mumble vaguely. My insides are in complete upheaval, like the insides of a shaken snow globe. We head for the door, the air between us charged and heated. Even though nothing happens, it feels like we were dangerously close to something.
We almost bump into someone as soon as we step into the corridor. She’s a manager from another department, and she slows down as she walks past us, her eyes narrowing when she sees us both emerge together from below.
Suspicious eyes flick from Zach to me, then back again to Zach. My insides sink with a heavy rush of dread and we walk away, in opposite directions, but my pulse is racing, my skin prickling as if everyone can see straight through me.
It’s going to get harder to ignore Zach now that he’s firmly planted in my place of work.
I hate that despite my resolve, he’s making inroads into my heart and mind.