Chapter 3
Lily
My life as I know it might as well be over, and yet my mind keeps circling back to the look he gave me in the elevator. As if, for the first time in two years, Ares Greco actually saw me.
A tremor ran down my spine, tying my tongue, erasing words I’ve known all my life.
But the moment is already gone.
Now I’m standing outside the boardroom.
The doors are shut.
And I’m on the wrong side of them.
I stare at the glass wall, waiting for the familiar call to enter, to take notes for him, to serve coffee. But even I can tell it won’t be happening today. For one, the glass is coated, unlike before, when the walls were usually transparent. He did it deliberately, the moment he saw me at the door.
It’s not enough to hide silhouettes, but enough to deny detail. Movement blurs behind it, a shift of weight, a hand raised, someone leaning back. I don’t need to see faces to know who’s inside.
Ares. Issabella. Matteo. Others I can’t place and don’t need to.
I need to be in there.
Not standing outside, holding proof of my usefulness like an offering that’s already been refused.
The tablet is warm against my arm, and the paper files bend slightly where my fingers grip too tightly. The coffee cup is worse. It’s lukewarm now, the condensation slicking the cardboard.
He didn’t take his coffee either.
I start to pace, the carpet muted under my heels. Back and forth. Heel to toe. Heel to toe.
This is it, my brain whispers. This is where it ends. This is the end of working with Ares Greco.
He heard me! He heard me! He heard me!
I close my eyes and I’m somewhere else. Years back. Before Ares Greco. Before glass walls and executive floors and assistants who don’t get to make mistakes twice.
I see my studio apartment with the rattling AC. The takeout containers stacked like trophies of survival. The nights I stayed up past exhaustion because rest felt like a luxury I hadn’t earned yet.
I remember telling myself discipline was better than hope. That effort, constant and unglamorous, would build something solid under my feet.
And it did.
It built this job. This paycheck. This version of me that doesn’t have to count coins before buying groceries.
Which means it can all disappear just as neatly.
One wrong step. One misread look. One line crossed without realizing there was a line there at all.
I adjust my grip on the tablet. The coffee sloshes dangerously close to the lid. I steady it, my heart thudding harder than necessary.
Any second now, I tell myself.
Any second, the door will open and someone will remember I exist.
“Lily?” A familiar voice calls from behind me.
I jump, then stop pacing, my heart banging against my ribs like it wants out.
“What are you doing outside?” Selene, Ares’ sister, stops at the door, a tablet tucked under her arm, her expression gentle in a way that makes everything worse.
She has Ares’s eyes, but none of the sharpness. Hers soften when they land on me. The way her blue dress catches the light and brings out their color… I can’t help thinking Ares should try a blue shirt one of these days, just to see how it plays with his eyes.
“I was…” I clear my throat, forcing the words past the lump in it. “Ares asked me to wait outside.”
“He did?” She scoffs. “Since when does he go anywhere without you?”
“We don’t sleep in the same house…” I blur out, instantly aware of how unnecessary it sounds. “But… I get what you’re implying.”
“Did you do something?”
“Yes.” My shoulders slump. “And he asked me to take the weekend off.”
“And you’re still here? Girl, take the weekend off.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” I shake my head.
“Yeah, but pacing here won’t help your case. You know you’re visible from inside, right?” She nods toward the glass. “If you keep moving, it looks… alarming.”
Heat crawls up my neck. I glance at the wall, at my own reflection caught mid-anxiety spiral.
God.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, even though I don’t know what I’m apologizing for. Existing, maybe. “I didn’t realize.”
“Don’t sweat it.” She gives a small smile. “Take a breath. Whatever it is, it’ll still be there after you calm down.”
She reaches for the door. I stand frozen, like if I move, something will snap. Selene pauses, glancing back at me.
“He needs you more than you need him,” she states softly. “So don’t sweat it.”
I nod too fast as she slips inside. Then her words hit, and I freeze all over again.
I take a minute to breathe, though it does nothing. Ares might need me, but I’m replaceable, hundreds of women would take this job without a word of complaint.
And for the life of me, I’m not even sure when or why I started complaining in the first place.
I turn and walk to the elevator like a beaten kitten.
Then I’m scampering, on the edge of tears, holding myself together by a thread so thin it might snap.
The doors slide open, and I rush in, pressing my forehead against the cool metal for balance, trying to steady the panic flooding me.
I press my hands to my temples, blinking hard, forcing my mind to latch onto something. Egg. Keg. Peg. Leg… The words tumble in my head, nonsense rhymes stacking on one another like bricks.
The elevator opens onto the executive floor. It’s quieter here. Always is. Sound behaves differently on this level, like even noise knows where it is and chooses restraint.
I step out and adjust my mood, rearranging the load on my hands like it might rearrange my thoughts too.
“Morning, Lily.” Tara, Selene’s PA, throws as she approaches.
“Morning.” I turn automatically. Smile already in place.
She says something about the weather. Or traffic. Something flimsy, the kind of comment meant to acknowledge existence without inviting depth. I laugh at the right time and I keep walking.
My office sits in the line of glass that runs parallel to Ares’. We have the same floor. Same view. But different gravity.
As I approach, I can already see his space through the partition. Or rather, I can’t.
The glass is dark. It looks sealed. Inaccessible. Final.
By the time I reach my office, my chest feels too tight for the air it’s given.
I close the door behind me and lock it, even though no one ever comes in without knocking, tosses everything on my desk except my phone.
“Hey…” Lisa answers on the second ring.
“I think I ruined everything,” I blurt, the words tripping over each other as soon as they’re free. “Ares heard our conversation this morning...”
I pace. Desk to glass. Glass to desk.
“He what?” Her voice shrieks.
“Apparently he walked into the coffee shop to get me and heard everything, now he wants me to take the day off, the weekend off too…” The words pile up faster than I can organize them. My free hand curls into my sleeve, gripping fabric like it might hold me together.
“Okay slow down.”
“I can't slow down, Lisa! I can't lose this job.”
And this time, there’s no elevator to contain the panic.
“He didn’t even take the coffee. Didn’t even look at the files. I wasn’t in the boardroom. I… I don’t know what’s happening, Lisa. I…”
I can’t stop myself. I pace, desk to glass, glass to chair, heel tapping against marble floor. My reflection moves too fast, fragmented, frantic.
“Lily,” Lisa interrupts, voice calm but firm. “Breathe.”
I try. I inhale, shallow and ragged. Exhale… nothing. My chest heaves, shoulders tight, knees wobbling like I’ve forgotten how to stand still.
“I can’t. I can’t do this. I can’t think straight,” I gasp, pacing from desk to glass, glass to desk, hands twitching at my sides.
“You can,” Lisa insists. Her tone snaps me just enough to anchor me. “Walk me through it. How did he say it?”
I press my palms to my temples, blinking rapidly. How do I even describe this without sounding completely insane?
“He… he gave me the longing eyes,” I manage, voice shaky, “and then said I needed some time off…from him and from work.”
“Wait…he gave you the what?”
“The longing eyes…” My voice shrinks, faltering under the memory.
“By chance… are you saying the yearning look?”
“Yeah… what?” My stomach drops.
“Okay, let’s stay on track, but off track, you need to get laid. As soon as possible.”
“Why?” My voice is small, incredulous.
“Why?” Lisa scoffs, like I’ve just asked the dumbest question in the universe. “How about the fact that you just admitted your boss, Ares Greco, gave you the I yearn for you look?”
Heat surges through me, crawling up my neck.
“And… my getting laid would help how?”
“Help… sate that part of you so you don’t mix things up or start having ideas.” Lisa sounds like she’s explaining fractions to a toddler.
Why would I have ideas?” I stammer. “I… I don’t…”
“Lily,” she interrupts quietly, suddenly gentle, “I was in your room to get my straightener, and your journal was on the floor.”
No! Ni! No!
Panic spikes, hitting me like a hot rod in the spine.
“You didn’t read…?” I whisper, my voice trembling, almost a whimper.
“I saw one line when I picked it up,” she snorts, “and I knew I didn’t even want to read anything else. But seriously… What were you thinking? Writing about Ares as a warlord who came to rescue you and made love to you on his horse?”
“Carriage!” I choke out, heat rushing to my ears. “It was supposed to be a carriage… And it was a dream.”
I press the phone to my cheek, wishing it could swallow me whole. My brain screams why did you write this, why did you ever write this?
“Interesting dream… and I’m guessing he has a lot of entries in that journal…”
I cut the call before she could say anything else. My fingers tremble as I press the screen flat against the desk. The silence that follows screams in my ears, loud enough to make my chest ache.
I press my palms to my face, blinking rapidly, willing the heat in my cheeks to subside.
What the hell was I thinking?
Everything. Every word now feels like it’s carved in neon above my head.
I sink into my chair, staring at the stack of files I no longer trust, and try to remember how to breathe without letting everything leak out.
The hours crawl.
I hover at my desk, files re-stacked and realigned for the tenth time, coffee gone cold, my leg bouncing so fast I’m afraid it’ll break something fragile.
And then, he’s back.
The door to his office slides open, and I catch the movement from the corner of my eye. My heart lurches, and I snatch up the files, shoving the chair back so fast I nearly trip over my own feet.
“Mr. Greco…” I step in, words poised to tumble out like loose papers in the wind. “About what I said…””
I stop short of his desk, waiting, breath hitching, for him to turn from the window he’s now staring out of.
“Ares?” My voice cracks on the name. Desperate, I take a shaky step closer, and almost without thinking, my hand reaches toward him.
My hand brushes his arm. Barely grazes the sleeve, but it’s enough. Enough to make me feel like maybe I can pull him into me, into this moment, into… something.
His head snaps toward me, and my heart lurches so violently I feel it in my stomach. The glance he gives me is electric, terrifying in a way that makes every nerve in my body scream: pull back.
I freeze, hand hovering too long, caught between reaching and retreating. Heat blooms across my face. My knees wobble, betraying the control I thought I had.
“Don’t ever do that again, Lily.”
“I’m… sorry…” I pull back, words stumbling, voice smaller than I feel. “I didn’t…”
“Go home.” His tone cuts through me.
I nod, frozen for a second, those words biting into my chest like hot stones. Every instinct screams to protest, to explain, to stay, but I don’t. I turn, my pulse hammering in my ears as I leave.
“Lily?” His voice is quiet, almost as if I imagined it, but I freeze anyway.
He closes the distance between us, dipping his head so our gazes meet before pulling it back.
I see the look again, that look in his eyes. Or maybe Lisa is right. Maybe I see what I want to see, not what is. Because what is, is that Ares doesn’t want me that way. The sharp glare he gave me when I touched him confirms it, slicing through any hope I cling to.
“You’ll have a spa treatment this weekend,” he purrs softly, almost cooing. “Really take it.”
I blink, caught between relief and panic. My mouth opens, closes. I want to say thank you, but my throat is raw.
I nod once.
“I’ll see you on Monday?” He holds my gaze as he asks, like he’s trying to reassure me.
“Okay.” I nod again, then the words spill out before I can stop them. “But what about your schedule? Who’s going to remind you? Who will get your lunch? Who will wait up while you work late tonight, who will…”
“Lily. Home.”
The finality of it snaps everything into place.
I swallow hard, realizing that as much as I want to tear into him for overworking me, I care about him. Too much. He’s my responsibility. Or at least, he’s been.
I turn and walk out.
He’ll see me on Monday.
That should count for something. But what stays with me isn’t the promise of Monday. It’s the memory of the touch and the way he made me pull back.
It sticks like a burn.
Lisa is right.
I need to get laid.