Chapter ELISE
ELISE
I DIDN’T UNDERSTAND who Nathan was anymore.
A week ago, I had him figured out. Or at least, I thought I did. He was demanding, impossible to please, and entirely too comfortable expecting the world from the people around him. Working for him meant long hours, constant adjustments, and very little room for error.
I knew how to handle that version of him. What I didn’t know how to handle was this one. The one who had sat across from me in his office four nights ago, insisting I stay for dinner like it wasn’t completely out of character for him to want to be around me if it wasn't work related.
The one who had looked me in the eye and encouraged me to take the opportunity with Nia like it wasn’t going to complicate both of our routines. The one who had actually followed through.
Because this week, he hadn’t just said he’d make it work. He had.
He’d taken on more than I’d ever seen him take on. Adjusted his own schedule instead of expecting me to rearrange mine. Sat in meetings I normally would’ve prepped him for, handled calls I usually filtered, and somehow managed not to make it feel like I was falling short in the process.
That alone would’ve been enough to throw me off. But then there was today. The lunch.
I could still see it sitting on my desk like it had earlier, untouched for a full minute because I genuinely didn’t know what to make of it.
Joan’s On Third.
Not just anything from there.
My order.
Exactly how I get it.
And maybe I could’ve convinced myself it was a coincidence if it weren’t for the fact that he’d never done anything like that before.
Not once in the three years I’d worked for him.
Nathan Edge did not buy lunch for the office.
Not unless it was a formal event. Not unless there was a reason attached to it that made sense on paper.
And “thank you for your hard work” three years after taking over the company?
That wasn’t a reason.
That was an excuse.
One I didn’t call him on, even though I really wanted to.
Because the truth was, I didn’t know what I would’ve done if he’d confirmed it.
If he’d looked at me and said, yes, I heard you with Marissa. Yes, that was for you.
I wasn’t sure I was ready to deal with what that meant.
So I didn’t push.
And now I was thinking about it more than I should have been. Which was exactly why I pushed away from my desk a little more forceful than necessary and stood up.
The workday was over.
The office had started to quiet down, people gathering their things, conversations softening as everyone shifted out of work mode and into whatever came next.
I stood from my desk, smoothing my hands over my skirt, trying to shake off the lingering thoughts that had been following me since lunch.
It didn’t work.
I grabbed my bag, turning just as Nathan stepped out of his office. Like he had some internal clock that synced up with mine.
“Done for the day?” he questioned.
“Thankfully,” I said, adjusting the strap on my shoulder.
“I’ll walk out with you.”
That was new.
Not completely out of line. Not inappropriate. Just not something he usually did.
I hesitated for half a second, before nodding. “Okay.”
We fell into step beside each other, walking toward the elevators in a silence that didn’t feel uncomfortable, but wasn’t entirely easy either.
It was different. Everything about this week had been. I was more aware of him now. Of the way he moved, the way he spoke, the way he seemed to be watching without making it obvious.
And I didn’t know what to do with that.
The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and we stepped inside. The space felt smaller than it should have. Or maybe I was just more aware of the fact that it was just the two of us.
The doors slid shut, and the elevator began its descent. For a moment, neither of us spoke.
And I told myself I wasn’t going to say anything either.
That I was just going to ride this out like a normal end to a normal workday and go home and not think about him or lunch or the way things had felt slightly off balance all week.
I lasted about five seconds.
“There’s this bar a few blocks away. Bark & Barrel. A few of us go there on Fridays after work. Cheap drinks. Loud music. It’s nothing fancy. But it’s kind of fun.”
There. I said it.
What the hell did I just do?
My heart plummeted before he could even answer. This was stupid. I hadn’t voluntarily spent time with Nathan outside of a Zoom call or a conference room in three years, and now I was inviting him out for drinks?
Nathan didn’t immediately respond. He blinked, expression unreadable.
“I mean, not that I think you’d go,” I added quickly. “You probably have a private sommelier and a $400 bottle of brandy waiting for you at home—”
“Elise.”
I shut up. Mostly because he said my name in that tone again. Quiet. Warm. Unfamiliar.
“I know Bark & Barrel,” he said. “I used to go there years ago. Before things got so,” He waved vaguely toward the skyline. “Corporate.”
My eyebrows shot up. “You? In a dive bar?”
He smirked. “I wasn’t always this polished, you know.” The elevator doors opened. I was fully prepared for the brush-off but instead he asked, “Will you be there?”
I hesitated, caught off guard by the question.
“I always go,” I said. “I need at least one strong drink to recover from a week of working for you.”
Nathan laughed, like actually laughed. The sound was low and unguarded and hit me harder than it should have.
“Well, in that case,” he said, “maybe I’ll stop by. Just to see if you’re recovering properly.”
“Good,” I quipped. “You can apologize to my liver in person.”
His eyes stayed on me a second too long before he nodded his head. “Godnight Elise.”
“Goodnight, Mr.Edge,” I said, turning toward the exit, still not entirely sure what had just shifted between us, only that something had.