Corporate Love

The glass doors at Hale Enterprises opened with a soft hiss, to Ava Sinclair's sound-sensitive mind like a warning.

She walked in, clicking her heels loudly against the marble floor, her spine rigid, her chin held high. The smell of shining stone, stale air, and ambition hits her at the same time. It hadn't altered. Neither, she reassured herself, had she.

The receptionist granted her a quick look, obviously not recognizing her. Good. She didn't particularly desire to be recognized. Not at this time.

"I'm here to speak with Mr. Hale," Ava said smoothly, extracting her badge and holding it out. "I'm expected."

A few clacks on the keyboard. The woman's gaze darted upward, her tone suddenly alert. "You're the new executive secretary?"

Ava offered a slight smile. "That's correct."

The woman's look changed-surprise, perhaps sympathy. "He's on the top floor. Private elevator to your left. He's awaiting you."

Of course, he was.

The ascent felt longer than it should have. Every floor they went on vibrated with life and activity, but always, the top floor-the CEO suite-remained still, remained silent. The world above everyone else.

The doors swung open.

Her heels sank into the soft, gray carpet as she stepped out. It was odd to be there again. Odder still to know that he'd asked her to come. After all these years. After everything.

His office door was shut, and she did not hesitate. She knocked, then waited.

"Come in."

That voice.

Ava stepped inside.

Dominic Hale looked up behind a steel and shadow-hued desk. Even his suit was black, impeccably fitted. The loosening of his tie to suggest late nights at work. His steel blue, cold eyes focused on her with no salutation, no welcome, only calculation.

"Ava," he stated flatly.

"She didn't move her head." Mr.

There was a flicker-something crossed his face, and it vanished instantly. "Sit,"

She did so, attentively. He looked her over as if considering making a decision. Possibly, he was.

"Did HR take care of the paperwork?"

They did.

"Then let there be no misunderstanding. Whatever history we have won't interfere with your job here. You were hired because you're competent. That's what matters."

Ava nodded, her movements slow and deliberate. "Understood. I do not plan to make this personal."

He sat back in his chair, folding his arms. "Good. Personal is complicated. And I don't do complicated anymore."

You did, she wanted to tell him. But she sat quietly instead, as the air between them became heavy.

The man she used to love was now a stranger. Or perhaps he was always that way.

"Your first assignment," Dominic said, extracting a folder from his drawer, "is to clean out the mess left in place by my previous assistant. The files for the projects are in there. I'd like to have a status report on my desk by noon."

She grasped the folder, her hand brushing against his. Ice.

"I will do it."

He stood by silently as she disappeared.

And as soon as the door closed behind her, Ava exhaled the breath she'd been holding.

She was back. And this time, she would not break.

The office they'd given her was immediately adjacent to his–modern, spotless, and sterile, like everything else on the executive level. But Ava didn't sit down. Not just yet. She leaned against the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out at the city she'd fled, clutching the folder as if it would catch fire.

"You're here to do your job," she reminded herself. Not him.

She spun around and settled at her own desk, flipping the folder open. The files within were chaos. Memos with dates scribbled out, printed-out, unread e-mails as though they were scriptures, deadlines that had obviously slipped by unmarked. Dominic's previous personal assistant was probably a disaster-or, at the very least, someone who couldn't handle the stress of working this close to him.

She could. She had before. She would again.

Yet still, tension didn't lift off her shoulders after an hour. The heaviness of Dominic's presence behind that door was still felt, even in quiet. She sensed him behind there, as though behind glass, where a tempest resided.

The intercom by her office buzzed.

"Ava."

She pushed the button. "Yes?"

"My meeting at 10 a.m. is coming. Bring them in."

"Right away."

She got up and straightened her blouse, her heels clicking as she moved to stand at his door. She hesitated, then opened it slightly.

"They're here."

He didn't even bother looking away from his screen. "Send them in."

So cold, and so detached. This was not the man who, at midnight, kissed her senseless in an elevator. This wasn't the man who, previously, sketched promises onto her naked skin.

Perhaps that was what it was about. That man was gone. So was the woman she'd once been.

By lunchtime, she'd sorted out the files, tamed the mess of the calendar, and even dealt with a few of his pressing messages. Each click, each note, every decision she made-it needed to be flawless. Not only because she wanted to impress.

Because she would never give him any cause to doubt her strengths.

At exactly 12:07 p.m., the intercom suddenly sprang to life.

"Lunch."

She blinked at the button. "Excuse me?"

"Come join me. I assume you eat?"

That clipped tone, that tone of condescension-he was testing her again.

Certainly, Mr. Hale, she replied calmly. "Where would you prefer to go?"

I didn't mention anything about leaving.

There was a moment of complete silence.

Then she stood and smoothed out her skirt and walked in. He already had a tray arranged on the small conference table in his office. Two servings. Neatly plated.

"So this is... professional?" she queried, raising an eyebrow as she sat.

"It's lunch," he said.

Their gaze locked over the table.

Time elapsed.

Then he said, quieter this time, "You look good."

It caught her off guard. For an instant, something stirred just behind her facade-regret, perhaps. Longing. But Ava was too well-trained to let it show.

"Let's be professional," she said, giving him her soft, sharp smile. "You don't be messy any longer, okay?"

He smiled slightly. "Right."

But his gaze lingered.

And, for the first time in years, Ava wasn't exactly sure who was testing who.

She went back to her own desk with her heart thudding-not from lunch, and certainly not from what she'd eaten, but from the lingering of his gaze. Dominic Hale was no longer just cold; he was calculated. Even his movements now felt calculated, every empty space between words laced with barbed edges. But buried beneath that corporate armor, she'd glimpsed something flash in him.

Recognition, perhaps. Regret, at best. Or curiosity.

The phone interrupted her train of thoughts. She quickly picked it up.

"Miss Sinclair," said the voice on the phone, "Mr. Hale would like to see you in the conference room. Immediately."

She never asked why.

By the time she arrived, Dominic was already pacing at the head of the table. Waiting there were three men and one woman, senior executives. She recognized some of them by reputation. No one of them looked especially happy to see her.

"You're late," Dominic stated curtly, not looking at her.

She looked at her watch. "By thirty seconds."

He turned his head, his eyes narrowed. "Don't make a habit of it."

And there it was. The push. He was doing it again, attempting to shift her off-center. She smiled serenely and sat down beside him in the empty chair.

"As I was saying," Dominic went on, refocusing his gaze towards his team, "the merger requires a complete restructuring plan within next week's timeframe. Ava will be coordinating internal communication in my stead."

The room shifted. Uncomfortable quiet. One of the senior men-a VP named Malcolm-cleared his throat.

"She's new."

"She's effective," Dominic interrupted, never flinching. "That's what matters to me."

Ava didn't bat an eyelid. She confronted their dubious looks with seasoned aplomb. Let them underestimate me, she envisioned. It will be sweeter later when they do.

The meeting then rushed along, with orders tossed like loaded guns by Dominic. By its conclusion, Ava's scribbles were tight and brutal. As others drifted out, Dominic sat still, fingers drumming once against the table.

"You managed that fine," he said at last.

"I am not here to impress you."

His lips twitched. "You never were."

He rose, strode to the window. The room was colder, as though a cloud had moved through it, for an instant.

"I know they will fight," he said, still with his back turned. "They do not desire someone of your caliber to head anything presently."

"Somebody like me?"

A person who was previously something else.

She rose to her feet, speaking low. "I'm not here to be somebody's memory."

His jaw clamped together. He didn't speak.

But there was electricity in the space between them.

Ava strode away from him before he could answer-head held high, hot blood moving in her veins. She wasn't just surviving. She was claiming this space.

She returned to her office and opened her email inbox. Scores of incoming new projects already awaited her.

She rolled her sleeve up.

Let them experiment with her. Let Dominic play whatever game he believed that he was playing.

She'd win.