Between The Lines

Elena Hart wiped her sweaty palms against the fabric of her skirt for the third time since stepping into the elevator. She told herself it was just another interview. Another chance. Another door she had to force open if she ever wanted a real career.

But her heart wasn't listening. It thudded in her chest, faster and louder with every floor the elevator climbed.

Cross Enterprises.

It was a name people whispered in break rooms and late-night conference calls - usually right before listing all the ways Damian Cross could ruin a person's life with a single email. And somehow, here she was. About to meet him.

When the elevator pinged and the doors slid open, Elena nearly lost her nerve. The top floor didn't look like an office. It looked like a different world: sleek and cold, with glass everywhere, reflecting her own nervous face back at her. The people here didn't walk - they hurried. Heads down, backs straight, eyes forward. No one smiled.

"Elena Hart?" a clipped voice called from behind a glossy reception desk. A woman with sharp cheekbones and a sharper stare barely glanced up.

"He's ready for you. Through there." She pointed with her pen toward the giant black double doors at the end of the hall.

Elena swallowed hard.

This was it.

Her heels clicked a little too loudly against the marble floor as she crossed the vast lobby, each step echoing her own doubts. What if she wasn't ready? What if she said the wrong thing? What if he took one look at her and decided she wasn't worth the time?

She paused in front of the door, forcing her breathing to slow. Through the frosted glass, she could make out a figure: a man standing near the window, hands in his pockets, head slightly tilted as if he were already sizing her up.

Get it together, Elena.

She knocked once, her knuckles sounding small against the heavy door.

"Come in," a deep voice said.

It wasn't loud, but it didn't need to be. It was the kind of voice you listened to without question.

Steeling herself, Elena pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Damian Cross was nothing like the rumors. He was worse.

Not in the obvious ways - he wasn't shouting, wasn't frowning. In fact, he wasn't even looking at her yet. He was gazing out the floor-to-ceiling window, the skyline sprawling out behind him like something he owned.

When he finally turned, Elena's breath caught - and not because he was handsome (he was, in a brutal, razor-edged way), but because his eyes met hers like he already knew everything about her... and was unimpressed.

"Miss Hart," he said simply, as if they were already in the middle of a conversation.

"Have a seat. Let's see if you're as good as your résumé says."

"So," he said after a beat, voice smooth but somehow heavy, "why do you want to work for me, Miss Hart?"

A normal question. One she had rehearsed for days. But under his scrutiny, her mind blanked for a split second.

She cleared her throat quietly.

"I've followed Cross Enterprises' growth for years. Your leadership-" she paused, catching the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, as if he could smell flattery a mile away, "-your leadership has created a standard for success that I admire. I want to be part of something... bigger than myself. I want to learn from the best."

Damian leaned back in his chair slightly, studying her.

"You've worked for two CEOs before this. Both left their companies shortly after."

Elena's stomach tightened. Of course he knew that. Of course he would find the details even she hated to think about.

"Yes," she admitted, keeping her voice steady. "But not because of anything I did, if that's what you're implying."

For a fraction of a second, something like amusement flickered across his face - gone almost before she could be sure she'd seen it.

"Good," he said. "I don't tolerate mistakes. Or excuses."

She nodded once.

"Neither do I."

Their eyes locked for a long, tense moment, the air between them sharp and buzzing like the aftermath of a storm.

Damian shifted slightly, then reached for a slim leather folder on the desk, flipping it open with one hand.

"Tell me," he said, his voice dropping lower, "what would you do if you were asked to choose between loyalty to the company... or loyalty to me?"

The question stunned her.

Was this a test? A trap?

Or something else entirely?

Elena lifted her chin a fraction.

"I would hope," she said carefully, "that the two wouldn't be in conflict."

Damian smiled then - not a friendly smile. A dangerous one.

"Hope is a fragile thing, Miss Hart."

He closed the folder with a soft snap.

"You start Monday."

--------

First Day At Work

The city buzzed around her, but Elena barely heard it.

Her new ID badge swung from the lanyard around her neck as she stepped through the glass doors of Cross Enterprises, her heels tapping a steady beat against the marble floor.

Today, she wasn't just here for an interview.

She belonged.

At least, that's what she told herself every few seconds to keep the nerves from swallowing her whole.

The receptionist barely glanced up this time, just pointed her toward the elevators.

"He's expecting you."

The ride up felt shorter today - or maybe her heart just hammered louder, drowning out everything else.

When she reached the top floor, the black double doors were already open. Damian Cross stood near the window again, a phone pressed to his ear. He didn't look at her immediately, but the way his posture changed - the slight straightening, the slow turn of his head - told her he knew she was there.

He ended the call with a sharp, quiet, "Handle it."

Then he turned fully to face her.

"Miss Hart," he said, voice crisp but not unkind.

"You're early."

"I thought it would be better to be early than late," Elena replied, willing her voice not to shake. "First impressions matter."

A slow, almost imperceptible nod.

"Good. You'll find that's true around here."

He motioned toward a smaller office just adjacent to his.

"That's your workspace. You'll be close enough that I can call for you when needed."

Close enough.

The words sent a ripple through her - part excitement, part fear.

She followed him into the smaller office. It was stark, but functional: a sleek desk, a brand-new laptop, a phone that looked complicated enough to launch a rocket.

"You'll handle my schedule, correspondence, internal approvals," Damian said, rattling off a list. "You'll also manage any... sensitive matters that arise."

He said it in a way that made her glance at him sharply - but his expression was unreadable.

"Understood," Elena said. Or at least, she hoped she did.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

The city skyline stretched behind him, light pouring in, making him look both untouchable and strangely human - just a man standing against the weight of an empire he built.

Finally, Damian stepped back, hands sliding into the pockets of his dark slacks.

"You'll find," he said slowly, almost like an afterthought, "that loyalty is rewarded here."

His eyes caught hers - and this time, there was something unmistakable there. Not a threat.

A promise.

Elena's throat went dry.

"Thank you, Mr. Cross," she managed.

"Damian," he corrected, almost lazily.

"You're going to hear my name a lot. Might as well get comfortable with it."

Her chest tightened slightly at the sound of it, but she nodded.

"Damian."

For the first time, a real smile - small, fleeting, but real - touched his mouth.

"Good girl," he murmured, so softly she almost wasn't sure she'd heard it.

And then, like the moment hadn't happened at all, he turned back toward his office, leaving her standing there with her heart hammering and a thousand questions she wasn't sure she wanted the answers to.