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As soon as I entered the boardroom, it felt like stepping right into the eye of a storm that had been politely awaiting my arrival. The space was huge and impeccably polished, with a long, shiny table stretching out like a dark glass river, surrounded by high-backed leather chairs that looked far fancier than anything meant for casual seating.
Floor-to-ceiling windows covered one wall, letting sunlight flood in and bounce off sleek metallic details, while a massive digital screen displayed charts and numbers that seemed way too serious for someone who was about to embarrass himself in front of the company's bigwigs.
Unfortunately, the presentation was already underway...of course it was.
A beta analyst stood by the screen, confidently describing financial trends and growth projections when the soft sound of the door creaking open echoed through the room like a clap of thunder, causing every single pair of eyes to turn toward me in synchronized horror. Heat rushed up my neck as I stood there holding the door, fully aware I had just become the most distracting thing in a room full of people who despised distractions.
Yet somehow, practice kicked in before panic could take over.
"I truly apologize for the interruption," I said smoothly, keeping my voice calm and respectful, despite my insides wanting to crawl out of my skin.
Inside, I was anything but calm; all I could think about was how inevitable my own professional demise felt and how I should have stayed under the hotel sheets, like a coward, instead of willingly walking into this nightmare.
I reluctantly shifted my gaze to the head of the table.
Xavier Fairchild sat there like he belonged in a museum of powerful, intimidatingly attractive men, with his perfectly styled dark hair and piercing grey eyes that lifted toward me with an unimpressed look that briefly made me consider apologizing for just being there. He didn't say a word, and that silence was somehow worse than being yelled at; it was loaded with disappointment that could make anyone rethink their life choices.
Yep, I was definitely done for.
"I...won't disrupt the meeting again," I added quickly, managing a small, polite smile before stepping further into the room and shutting the door behind me. The analyst, after a brief and awkward pause, cleared his throat and resumed discussing quarterly projections as if I hadn't just barged in like a disaster.
Trying to blend into the background, I quietly took a spot near the wall, but Xavier's voice cut through the tension in a low, calm tone that still felt like an order.
"Mr. Pierce."
I straightened up at once and turned toward him. "Yes, sir?"
Without taking his eyes off the screen, he slid a neat pile of folders across the table. "Distribute these."
"Of course," I replied, stepping forward to grab them, trying to keep my fingers steady around the edges as they were also battling against a tremor.
As I moved around the table, handing out the files one by one while the board members went back to their charts, I felt Xavier's gaze on me, quiet and piercing. Even without a word spoken, I sensed his silent judgment hovering in the air alongside the hum of the projector and the dry corporate chatter that continued as if I hadn't almost derailed everything.
Miraculously, I made it through without tripping, dropping anything, or fainting—an achievement, given that my dignity was still hanging by a thread.
Finally, I took a seat near the end of the table, relying solely on sheer will, an abundance of caffeine that had long since stopped loving me back, and a deep dread of unemployment to keep me awake while the meeting dragged on at a snail's pace. Charts morphed into colorful waves on the massive screen, numbers began to feel like they were taunting me, and every time someone said "year-over-year growth," I felt a little piece of my soul trying to slip away peacefully.
I bit the inside of my cheek more than once to keep from yawning, because the last thing I needed was for Mr. Fairchild to catch me mid-yawn and think I was bored rather than just chronically sleep-deprived thanks to a ridiculously attractive, selfish idol.
Damn Rowan.
Damn his stupid charming smile.
Damn his stamina!
By the time the meeting finally wrapped up, I honestly couldn't tell if I had blinked or blacked out for parts of it.
The sound of chairs scraping against the floor and hushed conversations filled the room as board members began clearing out in neat groups. I quickly got up, transitioning back into efficient PA mode, organizing leftover files, straightening the presentation clicker, and stacking stray documents that had been abandoned like fallen soldiers.
This was my happy place...stacks of paper, color-coded folders, structured chaos at its finest.
I was blissfully focused until I got that strange sensation creeping up my spine—the feeling of being scrutinized by something expensive and predatory.
I slowly lifted my head, Mr. Fairchild hadn't moved.
While everyone else had either left or was in the process of leaving, Xavier Fairchild remained seated at the head of the table, one arm casually resting on the chair, his gaze locked onto me with an intensity that felt wildly inappropriate for a guy just watching his assistant organize folders.
That awareness made my foot catch on a chair leg, and I nearly landed face-first on the polished floor.
Professional, very professional.
Give me a gold medal now, will you?
I straightened up quickly, managing a small, polite smile that probably resembled more of a hostage negotiating for freedom.
"I...is there something else you need, sir?" I asked, trying my hardest to sound composed despite the pressure of being under his watchful eye.
He scrutinized me for another long moment, a silence that felt heavy and significant, like he was weighing my fate as if someone would do when deciding whether to send a concerning email or just delete it.
Then he finally spoke.
"Leave the files, Theodore."
Hearing my full name from his lips hit differently, each syllable slow and deliberate, signaling just how much power it had over my already fragile sense of composure.
"O–oh," I responded, sounding intelligent as ever. "Of course."
My hands, which had been perfectly aligning a stack of folders, froze as I straightened up and looked back at him.
"Follow me to my office," he continued calmly, rising from his seat and heading for the door. "We need to discuss something."
Something, something important, something definitely terrifying.
Something that probably started with, "You've been slipping lately."
I swallowed hard but nodded. "Yes, sir."
I stepped away from the table and fell into line behind him, bracing myself for whatever professional reckoning awaited me in his office.