He adjusted his tie in the elevator, the mirrored walls reflecting a man who looked more in control than he felt.
The VossTech boardroom awaited on the 60th floor, a sleek battlefield of glass and steel where his future—and the company's—would be dissected.
The merger with NexGen AI was teetering, the board restless, and Cassandra's cryptic warnings from yesterday still gnawed at him. You're playing with fire.
Her words were less about the merger and more about Lila, and that made his blood boil.He stepped into the boardroom, the air thick with the scent of coffee and ambition. Twelve faces turned to him—seasoned executives, investors, and a few sharks circling for weakness.
Cassandra sat at the far end, her blonde hair pulled into a low bun, her navy blazer screaming power.
She met his gaze with a cool smile, her presence a reminder of the life he'd left behind.
A life he didn't want back.
"Elliot," said Margaret Chen, the board chair, her voice sharp as she gestured to the head of the table.
"Let's begin. The NexGen merger. Convince us it's not a mistake."
He launched into his pitch, slides flashing on the screen behind him—revenue projections, market share, AI advancements.
His voice was steady, his arguments sharp, but his mind kept drifting to Lila.
The way she'd looked last night, curled on his couch with a glass of wine, her eyes wide with fear and want when he'd admitted he felt something real.
He'd been seconds from kissing her when the pizza arrived, and the memory of her pulling away—I'm scared—twisted in his chest.
"Elliot?" Margaret's voice cut through. "You're distracted. Care to share why?"
He blinked, realizing the room was silent, all eyes on him.
Cassandra's lips twitched, a predator sensing blood.
"Sorry," he said, forcing a smile.
"Long week. The merger's on track. NexGen's tech complements ours perfectly—faster processing, broader applications. We'll dominate the market."
A murmur rippled through the room, some nods, some skeptical frowns.
Richard Holt, a gray-haired investor with a penchant for grilling, leaned forward. "Numbers look good, Voss, but your focus is the issue. Rumors are swirling—late nights, personal distractions. We need a leader, not a dreamer."Elliot's jaw tightened. Personal distractions.
He didn't need to look at Cassandra to know she'd planted that seed.
"My focus is here," he said, his voice cold. "VossTech is my priority. Always has been."
Cassandra cleared her throat, her voice smooth as silk.
"No one doubts your commitment, Elliot. But perception matters. The board hears things—late-night pizza with staff, for example. It raises questions about judgment."
The room stilled, the air heavy. Elliot's hands clenched under the table.
She was playing dirty, twisting his dinner with Lila into something sordid.
"My personal life is irrelevant," he said, his tone cutting.
"This is about the merger, not gossip."Margaret raised a hand, her expression unreadable.
"Enough. We'll vote next week. Prove you're all in, Elliot, or we'll reconsider your role."
The meeting ended in a blur of handshakes and murmurs, but Cassandra lingered, her heels clicking as she approached.
"Walk with me," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.
He followed her to the elevator, his patience fraying.
"What's your game, Cassandra?" he said as the doors closed.
"Spreading rumors? That's low, even for you."
She turned, her blue eyes sharp.
"I'm protecting you. You're risking everything for a fling with a maid. The board's watching, and so are the shareholders. Do you really think she fits in your world?"
"She's not a fling," he snapped, the words out before he could stop them.
"And my world's none of your business."
Her lips curved, but there was no warmth in it.
"Oh, Elliot. You're so predictable. You think you're saving her, don't you? But she's using you. Girls like her always do."
He stepped closer, his voice low and dangerous.
"Don't talk about her like that. You don't know her."
"And you do?" Cassandra tilted her head, unfazed.
"You're blinded by a pretty face and a sob story. Wake up, Elliot. She's after your money, just like I was."
She paused, her smile cruel.
"At least I was honest about it."
He stared at her, anger warring with doubt. Cassandra had burned him before, her betrayal a scar he still carried.
But Lila wasn't her. Lila was real—her laugh, her passion, the way she'd poured her heart into that tart.
"You're wrong," he said, stepping back as the elevator dinged.
"And you're done here."
He walked away, her laughter echoing behind him.
Back in his office, he sank into his chair, his head pounding.
The merger, the board, Cassandra—it was all closing in, but all he could think about was Lila.
Her exam was yesterday, and he hadn't heard from her since their pizza dinner.
He pulled out his phone, hesitating, then texted: How are you holding up? Want to debrief over coffee? My treat.Her reply came minutes later: Exhausted but alive. Coffee sounds good.
Your place, 6 PM? I owe you a tart for the pizza.He smiled, the weight in his chest lifting. Deal. No coffee spills this time.
The rest of the day dragged—emails, calls, a tense meeting with his CFO—but by six, he was back in the penthouse, the kitchen warm with the scent of basil and dough.
Lila was already there, her apron dusted with flour, her curls escaping a loose ponytail.
She looked up, her smile bright but tired. "Hey," she said, sliding a tray into the oven. "Hope you're ready for round two of the caprese tart. I tweaked the recipe again."
"You're gonna make me fat," he said, leaning against the counter, his mood instantly lighter.
"How'd the exam go? You seemed… off last night."She sighed, wiping her hands on her apron. "It was brutal. The other candidates were like, Michelin-star prodigies, and I'm just… me. I didn't screw up, but I don't know if I stood out. They said they'll email results soon."
Her eyes flicked to his, vulnerable.
"I'm trying not to freak out, but it's hard."
He wanted to pull her into his arms, to tell her she was more than enough, but he settled for a nod.
"You stood out. Trust me. They'd be crazy not to want you."
Her lips curved, a spark of hope in her eyes. "You're biased. You like my food too much."
"Guilty," he said, grinning.
He stepped closer, unable to help himself.
"But it's not just the food, Lila. It's you."
Her breath hitched, and she looked up at him, the air between them electric.
"Elliot, we talked about this. It's… complicated."
"I know," he said, his voice low. He reached out, brushing a curl from her face, his fingers lingering on her cheek.
"But I meant what I said last night. I'm willing to risk it. I want this—us."
Her eyes searched his, fear and want warring in their depths.
"I got an email," she blurted, stepping back. "Anonymous, but I'm pretty sure it's from Cassandra. Telling me to stay away from you. Saying I'm… out of my league."
Elliot's stomach dropped, anger flaring. "She what?" He clenched his fists, Cassandra's words in the elevator echoing. She's using you.
"Lila, I'm sorry.
She's trying to sabotage us. She did the same thing at my board meeting today—spreading rumors, stirring trouble.
"Lila's face paled. "She's talking about me to your board? Elliot, this is exactly why we can't—" She stopped, her voice breaking. "I can't lose this job. Or my focus. The exam, my dreams… it's all I have."
"You have me," he said, the words fierce.
He stepped closer, cupping her face gently.
"I don't care about the board, or Cassandra, or what anyone thinks. I care about you."
Her lips parted, and for a moment, he thought she'd pull away again.
But then she leaned into his touch, her eyes closing.
"Elliot," she whispered, "I'm scared."
"Me too," he admitted, his thumb brushing her cheek.
"But I'm not letting her—or anyone—come between us."
The oven timer beeped, shattering the moment.
Lila laughed, shaky, stepping back to pull the tart out.
The golden crust and vibrant tomatoes looked perfect, but she barely glanced at it. "You're making this really hard," she said, setting it on the counter.
"Good," he said, his voice soft but firm. "Because I'm not giving up."
She looked at him, her expression torn between hope and fear, and he knew this was it—the moment they'd either cross the line or step back.
As she handed him a slice of tart, her fingers brushing his, he made a silent promise: no matter what Cassandra or the board threw at him, he wasn't letting Lila go.