The lobby of Brown Enterprises gleamed with perfection as always with the faint scent of Orange lingering in the air. Fiona's heels clicked against the marble tiles as she strode in, her chin high, her dress clinging to her like a second skin. She was a image of assurance, or at least that's what she told herself. Inside, nerves were a tangled mess.
She didn't tell Ethan she was coming. But she needed to see him. She needed to feel like she still had a place in his world in someone's world its like everywhere she goes Isadora keeps haunting her.
The socialites,hell even her own friends
She had enough she needed closure from the one person who could understand her
Behind the reception desk, Talia barely looked up from her screen. Her long acrylic nails tapped against the keyboard, her lips pursed in a tight line. She knew who Fiona was. Everyone in the building did. The sister of Ethan's to be fiancée. The green tea bitch that always come there dressed to impress.
Fiona stopped in front of the desk, her voice light. "I'm here to see Ethan."
Talia's eyes flicked up, her expression unreadable. "Do you have an appointment?"
Fiona blinked. "do I need an appointment now—"
"Then you'll have to wait," Talia said, her tone clipped. Moving back to her screen she whispered under her breath her voice dropping. "Isn't coming to meet your sister's man a mistress goal? Hmm. All these rich, spoiled brats."
Fiona froze, s heard every word and it look like that was exactly what Talia wanted. The words hit her like a slap. Her eyes narrowed, her breath sharp as she turned towards her. "What did you just say?"
Talia smirked, faking innocence,already turning back to her screen. "Nothing you haven't heard before" she whispered this time leaning slightly forward towards her.
In a flash, Fiona was around the desk, her fingers tangling in Talia's sleek ponytail. "How dare you even think you can talk to me like that, you low-class—"
But Talia was no delicate flower. She'd grown up on the streets, learned to fight before she learned to flirt. With a snarl, she twisted out of Fiona's grip and shoved her back. Fiona stumbled, but lunged again, nails slashing through the air.
The two women clashed on the floor, a tangle of fingers and hair. Talia pinned Fiona down with surprising strength, her fists flying. Slaps cracked through the lobby, echoing off the marble. Fiona screamed, trying to claw her way free, but Talia was persistent, her slaps landing with brutal precision.
It took two security guards to pull them apart. Fiona's hair was a mess, her lip split, her dress torn at the hem. Talia's blouse was ripped, her earrings missing, but she looked far less agitated.
"Get her out of here," one of the guards barked, dragging Talia toward the staff corridor.
Fiona didn't wait. She shoved past the other guard and stormed toward the elevator, blood pounding in her ears. Her face burned with humiliation and rage. She didn't care who saw her. All she cared about was making Ethan teach that bitch lesson. She needed Ethan.
The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and she stepped inside, jabbing the button for the top floor. Her reflection in the mirrored walls stared back at her wild-eyed, bruised, furious. She barely recognized herself.
When the doors slid open, she marched down the hallway, ignoring the startled glances from passing assistants. She didn't knock. She pushed open the door to Ethan's office and stepped inside, thankfully she was too angry to even witness that Mira was there, standing close to Ethan, her hand on his chest. They both turned at the sound of the door, their expressions startled. Mira's eyes widened, and she took a step back, smoothing her skirt.
Fiona didn't register any of it. Her vision was tunneled, her mind still reeling from the fight downstairs.
"Ethan," she snapped, her voice trembling with fury. "You need to get your damn staff in line. That bitch at the front desk just attacked me!"
Ethan blinked, clearly trying to process the scene. Mira glanced between them, her face tightening. Without a word, she turned and walked out, brushing past Fiona without a glance.
Fiona didn't notice. She was too busy pacing the office, her hands flailing as she recounted the altercation. "She called me a mistress. A mistress! Can you believe that? I came here to see you, and she acted like I was some trashy—"
"Fiona," Ethan interrupted, his voice low and sharp.
She stopped, finally looking at him. "What?"
He stared at her, his jaw clenched, eyes dark with something she couldn't quite place. "What the hell are you wearing?"
She looked down at herself—tight red dress, low neckline,high hem. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"
"This is my office," he snapped. "Not a brothel."
Her mouth fell open, did...he... just... he did
"You show up here like some desperate groupie, fighting in the lobby like a damn street rat, and you expect me to what? Applaud you? Invite you in for tea?"
"I—what?" she stammered, her voice cracking.
"You're a walking scandal, Fiona," he spat. "You think this is a game? You think you can just waltz in here, dressed like a str!pper, and it won't get back to your sister? To the board? To the press? Why can't you behave more like Isadora? Calm,understanding fucking sensible"
Outside the office, Talia stood with an ice pack pressed to her cheek, watching through the glass wall. Mira stood a few feet away, arms crossed, her face unreadable. But Ethan's words carried, and they both heard them.
Talia's lips curled into a smug smile. Mira's expression darkened, her eyes flicking toward Fiona with something like disgust—or was it heartbreak?
Inside, Fiona finally found her voice back which was reduced to a whisper. "You're calling me a wh@re now?"
Ethan turned away, running a hand through his hair. "That's not what I meant."
"But that was what you just said right, stripper Ethan i am a stripper?" she demanded, her voice rising. "I came here because I needed to talk to you, and you humiliate me? You are even comparing me to that bit¢h After everything?" she said the last part quietly not believing what just happened
He turned back to her, his tone colder now. "You're rreckless And it keeps proving that you're exactly what people say you are."
Fiona staggered back like he'd slapped her. Her eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away. She still trusted him. Like the fool she took her sister to be. She still believed there was something real between them.
"I didn't mean to mess things up," she said quietly. "I just… I needed to feel like I still mattered to you."
He looked at her, and for a moment, something flickered in his eyes. Regret? Guilt? She couldn't tell.
"You do," signing he finally replied."But not like this. You need to be smarter. Isadora's already suspicious. One more slip and everything falls apart."
Fiona nodded slowly, her face pale. "I'll just go."
She turned and stumbled out, her heels echoing down the hallway like gunshots. Mira and Talia watched her go, neither saying a word.
Back inside the office, Ethan sank into his chair, rubbing his temples. A moment later, the door creaked open again.
Mira stepped inside, closing it behind her. "That was… intense."
He didn't look up. "Yeah."
She walked over to him, her voice softer now. "You okay?"
He nodded, but it was a lie.
She perched on the edge of his desk, then slid into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. "You didn't tell me she was coming."
"I didn't know," he muttered.
Mira leaned in, brushing her lips against his jaw as she trace kisses down his collarbone. "You're tense."
He didn't respond.
She kissed his lips, slowly as her hands roam around his body. "You're not pulling away."
"I'm tired," he said.
She smiled faintly. "Tired of me?"
He stiffened, every estacy vacating his body immediately
"Ethan," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "What are we doing? I need to know. Are we… something? Or am I just a distraction?"
He looked at her then, his eyes hard. "Don't start."
"I'm not starting anything. I just want to know where I stand."
He pushed her off his lap, not roughly, but not gently either. She stumbled back, stunned.
"I've got a million things on my plate right now," he said, standing. "This isn't the time."
She stared at him, her voice trembling. "You're avoiding the question."
"I'm handling things," he snapped. "That's what I do. I don't have time for feelings right now."
And with that, he grabbed his jacket and walked out, leaving Mira alone in the silence of his office, her heart pounding, her eyes stinging with unshed tears, feeling humiliated by rhe one person she taught truly loved her