5. Lauren
Lauren
T oday is my first day working without Stella’s help.
The safety net is gone, but somehow, I’m more confident than I thought I’d be. It’s not something that usually comes easily to me, but this morning, I found my rhythm. I know I can handle this job—everything is under control. Professionally. Logically. I have a system in place, and for me, that’s everything. The office is finally mine. It’s not large, but it’s bright, with floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the city that I love, the skyline stretching out in front of me like something from a movie. My desk is pristine—just a monitor, keyboard, and mouse, all perfectly aligned. The space is clean, structured, exactly the way I like it. My little haven of order amidst the chaos of working for Silas Walker.
Last night, I told my sister I got the job. When I casually mentioned who my boss is— Silas Walker —her reaction was, predictably, explosive. A string of curse words flew out of her mouth before I could even finish my sentence. Emma knows all too well what he did to me in school, how many years I spent on the receiving end of his torment.
“Why him ?” she’d asked, disbelief sharp in her voice.
The truth? The salary is double what I’d expected. More importantly, it’s temporary, and it covers several months of treatment for Mom. I have priorities; my personal history with Silas doesn’t change that. He’s a necessary evil for the time being. It’s not about forgiveness or forgetting—it’s about survival. That’s the only reason I’m here.
Silas doesn’t show up until noon, which gives me hours to settle into my new role. The phone rings non-stop—appointments, rescheduling, client inquiries—but I manage to keep it all straight. I’ve already left notes on his disaster of a desk, setting up everything for his evening meeting, and the sheer satisfaction of bringing some order to his chaos fuels me.
Today is also the Walker siblings' quarterly meeting. Every three months, they gather to discuss company movements, new investments, and long-term projections. I know this because I’ve been pestering Silas all week for details. He’s good at being vague, but I’ve pieced together enough information to prepare for tonight.
The stakes are high, not just for the company, but for navigating the volatile dynamics of the Walkers. It’s obvious they love power, and Silas thrives in the unpredictability of it all.
But I don’t.
By one-thirty, I close my laptop and head to the kitchen for a quick break. A few coworkers Stella introduced me to earlier this week are already there. Stella had mentioned that only a handful of people in the office are “worth getting to know,” though she’d joked that her pregnancy hormones might be clouding her judgment. I’m still trying to figure out who fits that description. In the kitchen, I spot three employees: Erica from Marketing, Daniel from Human Resources, and Dulce from Investments.
“Hey, Lauren! Come eat with us,” Dulce says, waving me over to an open spot beside her.
I hesitate for a split second before nodding and smiling at her. The kitchen is a bright, cozy space with a large white table that seats at least eight, always buzzing with activity. I sit down between Daniel on my left and Dulce on my right, with Erica across from me.
Social interactions like this have always been challenging for me—navigating them feels like trying to walk a tightrope. But I’ve been working with my therapist to manage situations like this better, so I force myself to engage.
I open my lunch container while they chat.
“I heard they always stay at the Ritz,” Erica says, her voice full of intrigue like she’s telling some grand secret.
“They do,” Dulce replies in a bored tone, poking at her food.
I eat quickly, keeping my mind on the clock. I’ve only got an hour before I need to prep for the afternoon and staying on schedule is how I keep my nerves in check.
Daniel catches my eye with a smirk, leaning slightly toward me. “Forgive these two, Lauren; they’re total gossips.”
“Hey!” Erica shoots him a mock glare, but then grins. “We’re just informed .”
“Are you guys talking about the meeting tonight?” I ask, trying to steer the conversation toward something more work-related. Instantly, their eyes light up.
“Oh, that’s right! Lauren, you’re Mr. Walker’s new assistant!” Erica exclaims, her enthusiasm almost overwhelming.
“Tell us—what’s on the agenda for this quarter? I heard last time they wrapped up with a quick trip to Vegas.”
I frown slightly, feeling caught off guard by the way they talk about the Walker brothers. It’s almost like they’re discussing celebrities, not business executives. Silas and his brothers were popular back in school—everyone wanted to be close to them, to be part of their world. I’d only crossed paths with Luca a few times because he was “friends” with my sister, and even then, I always suspected his kindness toward me had more to do with his interest in Emma than anything else.
“I don’t have access to what they do outside the office,” I say, keeping my voice neutral, professional. “Anything beyond that is their business.”
That’s not entirely true, of course. I know they’re planning to go out to dinner after the meeting, and I’ve been organizing their schedules all week, but I feel uncomfortable sharing any details. Even if it’s just small talk, disclosing Silas’s plans feels ... too personal, too familiar. I can still hear my sister’s voice in my head, warning me about getting involved.
“Well, whatever it is, it’s probably more interesting than what we’re doing,” Dulce jokes, rolling her eyes. “You’re in the inner circle now.”
I stiffen slightly at her words. Inner circle? It doesn’t feel that way to me. Sure, I’m organizing Silas’s schedule, but I’m here for the job, the salary, and my family—not to get close to him . Not after everything.
Erica looks visibly disappointed. “Stella used to tell us all the juicy details,” she says with a shrug, like a child who didn’t get their way—though I’m pretty sure she’s at least thirty.
I highly doubt Stella was as friendly with anyone here as Erica seems to think. “I’m sorry, but Silas didn’t share anything else,” I reply, refocusing on my lunch, trying to dodge their prying questions .
“ Silas? ” Dulce asks, suddenly putting down her phone, her eyes widening.
“My boss,” I respond automatically. Isn’t that who we’ve been talking about this whole time?
“Yes, but no one calls him that around here,” Daniel says, leaning in slightly as if revealing a company secret. “If he’s cool with you calling him by his name, great, but …”
I blink, confused by the sudden shift in tone. “It’s his name. Why wouldn’t he be comfortable with it?”
Daniel leans in closer, lowering his voice as if we’re now conspirators. His brown eyes, now more noticeable up close, flicker with hesitation. His perfectly slicked-back hair is so stiff that for a split second, I imagine reaching out just to see if it’s as solid as it looks.
“We’re not supposed to call him by his name,” he whispers dramatically, looking genuinely uneasy. “Word is, he doesn’t like it.”
“Yeah,” Dulce adds with a giggle, “he doesn’t like feeling on the same level as his subordinates.”
Laughter bubbles up around the table, but before I can process the absurdity of this conversation, a cough interrupts us.
We all turn.
Silas is standing in the doorway, his presence immediately silencing the room. His blue eyes lock onto mine, sharp and intense. “Lauren, I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” he says, his tone flat, but his gaze unwavering.
He’s dressed impeccably, as always—tailored suit, polished shoes, and his caramel hair styled to perfection. But today, something feels off. His whole energy is darker, more intense, as if something is simmering just below the surface.
I glance at the clock. “I still have half an hour left for lunch,” I respond, keeping my tone even.
The three people around me gasp, like I’ve just committed an unspeakable offense. I glance at them, confused. Did I say something wrong? My sister always tells me I can come off as blunt without realizing it, but this feels different.
Silas narrows his eyes at me, his familiar look of disdain flickering briefly. I hold up my lunch container—a silent signal that I’m still eating. He exhales sharply, and I notice his gaze soften for just a second.
“I want you in my office in thirty minutes. Sharp ,” he commands, before turning on his heel. But as he’s leaving, he pauses. “Daniel, come to my office. Now.”
The atmosphere thickens as Daniel stands up, visibly nervous. The air in the room becomes stifling with tension, and everyone watches him walk out like he’s heading to his execution.
How strange.
I finish my meal quickly and head to the bathroom for my usual post-lunch routine: checking my makeup, brushing my teeth, and reapplying a light spritz of perfume. Preparation is crucial, especially with Silas. His unpredictability keeps me on edge, and I never know if I’ll need to be ready for a last-minute presentation or an unexpected meeting.
When I open the door to his office, Daniel rushes out, his face pale and drawn. He looks terrified. I offer him a small smile, but he doesn’t even notice me—he just keeps walking, his pace quickening as he disappears down the hall.
I clear my throat softly, signaling my presence. Silas doesn’t look up, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he types furiously. His jaw is clenched, and the tension in his shoulders is palpable. I sit in front of his desk, waiting in the thick, uncomfortable silence. Finally, Silas stops typing with an audible sigh, clasping his hands together on the desk.
He glances at me, his expression unreadable, but before he can speak, I casually slip in a question that’s been nagging at me since lunch. “Did you know everyone in the office is terrified of you?” I ask, genuinely curious, though the bluntness of my question surprises even me.
His eyes darken slightly, his jaw tightening again. “That’s how it should be,” he replies, completely serious. I notice the shadow of stubble on his face, and for the first time, I see a faint scar cutting through his right eyebrow. How did I not notice that before? But what’s really unsettling is the stress etched into his features. Silas Walker—cool, detached, always in control—is struggling with something.
“Not necessarily,” I counter, my therapist’s voice echoing in my head, reminding me to challenge situations when I need to. “These days, successful companies are led by bosses who actually connect with their employees. Being feared isn’t always the best strategy.”
His lips curl into a humorless smirk, his blue eyes narrowing. “That’s what my siblings are for. I’m here to do business, not play nice.” He leans back in his chair, watching me closely. “Any other completely inappropriate question?”
“Yes,” I say, meeting his gaze evenly. If he wants to play this game, fine. I won’t back down.
He raises an eyebrow, amusement flickering across his face. “I’m listening.” The wicked half-smile that appears on his lips is all too familiar, a dangerous reminder of who Silas really is underneath the polished exterior.
I cross my legs, and for a fleeting moment, his gaze drops to the slit in my pencil skirt before snapping back to meet my eyes. He’s quick, but not quick enough for me to miss it.
“I’m curious—have you ever tried smiling without looking like you’re plotting world domination?” I ask, my tone light but testing the waters.
“No.” His response is immediate and dry. “Next question.”
I raise an eyebrow, not entirely surprised but still amused by his bluntness. “It seems calling you Silas causes quite a stir around here,” I add, gauging his reaction.
He rolls his eyes, exasperation clear on his face. “Look, don’t get me wrong—if you call me Mr. Walker , I might end up with an erection, but there’s no need for that,” he says, his voice lowering into that wicked, playful tone that always catches me off guard. His smile sharpens, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “Unless you enjoy it as much as I do.”
A flush rises to my cheeks, but I keep my voice steady. “I don’t plan on calling you that.” I pick up my tablet, trying to shift the conversation back to work. “Your siblings are already in the city; a limousine will pick them up in …” I say as I glance at my watch, “…about fifteen minutes. The conference room is prepped; catering staff is handling everything.” As I speak, I catch him running his index finger along his lower lip, a habit I’ve noticed but learned to ignore. “Any questions?” I ask, adjusting my glasses, my tone clipped and professional.
Silas leans back in his chair, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he’s studying me. “Do you have a boyfriend?” he asks, completely serious.
I blink, caught off guard. “Uh … I don’t see why that’s relevant.”
He ignores my discomfort. “Lover?”
“Silas …” I warn, my voice wavering as I try to maintain control of the conversation.
“Dog?” He laughs, shifting in his chair, pulling at the collar of his shirt as if it’s suddenly too tight. His neck and shoulders are broader than I remember, and I find myself momentarily distracted.
Without thinking, I murmur, “Your body’s changed a lot since school.”
Silas’s smile widens, clearly pleased with my slip. “Do you like what you see, Bunny?”
I clench my jaw, embarrassed by my own comment. “That’s not what I meant. I just … noticed.” I cross my arms, hoping to hide the heat rising in my cheeks. Why did I let that slip out? Awkwardness strikes again. He lets the silence hang for a moment, savoring my discomfort before clearing his throat.
“I need you in the meeting,” he says, his tone suddenly all business. “Take my calls, and if my father contacts me, let me know immediately.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You want me in there? With you?”
“Yes. Is that a problem?” His gaze sharpens, daring me to refuse.
Of course, it’s a problem! The last thing I want is to be trapped in a room with the Walker siblings. The thought of being scrutinized by all of them makes my stomach tighten, but I can’t show weakness. Not here. Not in front of him . “Not at all,” I say, swallowing my nerves .
“Good. Let me know when they arrive.” He turns his attention back to the computer, his fingers already tapping away at the keyboard. “That’s all, Lauren. You can go.”
I nod, gathering my things quickly, grateful for the excuse to leave. As I exit the room, I can still feel the heat of his gaze lingering on me, and I’m all too aware of the tension crackling in the air.