Chapter 7 Fridays 1.2

When Emma returned to her station, Eli and Marissa pounced on her like gossip-starved hyenas.

"Emma! What was that?" Marissa started, eyes wide. "We saw you!"

"Saw me what?" Emma replied, playing dumb, though she knew exactly where this was heading.

"Don't 'what' us!" Eli interjected, dramatically pointing a finger. "You and the new manager! In the cafeteria! Eating together! Leaning close! Some even says you two are feeding each other! Like some romantic rom-com scene!"

Emma blinked. "Feeding each other? Are you serious?" Gossips here are vicious.

"Yes!" Marissa hissed. "And now, the single ladies on this floor officially hate you. Their dreamboat of a manager, William the Wonderful, and you're... what? Sharing spaghetti like Lady and the Tramp?"

Emma groaned. "NOOOOO, first of all, We are not eating spaghetti, that is so messy to eat.

Eli then cut her "You are the only adult who makes a mess eating a spaghetti."

Emma continues "Second, I was asked to give him a tour of the building. That's it!"

Eli raised an eyebrow. "A tour of the whole building? Nobody gets a physical tour. We've got a virtual walkthrough on the company website for that. Why would he need you to show him around?"

"Beats me." Emma shrugged, though she felt just as puzzled. What's weird is that guy asked for her specifically. The way he acted-it's like he already knows her. But that is what she can't figure out how...

Eli's eyebrow arched higher. "You're not... flirting with him, are you?"

"Absolutely not," Emma snapped. "I kept it as professional as humanly possible. I have no idea what his deal is.

Marissa rolled her eyes dramatically, spinning back to her computer. "Honestly, who wouldn't take advantage of a situation like that? You're single, he's single? What's the problem? I'd have fed him dessert too."

Emma sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I don't want office drama. You know how complicated that gets."

Eli smirked, leaning back in his chair. "So, you're saying you don't have the hots for him?"

Emma shot him a look, but the faint pink creeping up her cheeks betrayed her. "Look," she said carefully, "I'm only human. Anyone with eyes can see he's... well, he's very Prince Charming. But no. I'm not about to dive into some office romance and ruin my life."

Eli raised an eyebrow. "Physical attraction doesn't ruin lives, babe. Denial, though? That's a slow burn disaster."

Emma groaned, spinning her chair to face her monitor. "This conversation is over. Campaign launch in two days-remember that?"

Marissa snorted but didn't press further, and Eli eventually got back to work, though not without giving Emma one last knowing look.

As much as Emma hated to admit it, her resolve wasn't entirely unshakable. Sure, William was charming, devastatingly handsome, and exuded that effortless confidence that made women-and apparently, half the office-swoon. But office romances were a minefield, and Emma didn't trust herself to navigate one unscathed.

She muttered under her breath, "Nope. Not worth it."

Still, as the day dragged on, her mind kept wandering back to that lunch, the way he smiled at her, and the strange, nagging feeling that there was more to him than he was letting on.

The rest of the day was a blur of work, punctuated by the occasional glare from her female coworkers. Emma hated office drama, and this was shaping up to be a full-blown soap opera.

By the time she left the office, the stares felt sharper, like daggers aimed at her back. Reaching her car, she let out a sigh of relief. But just as she unlocked the door, her phone buzzed.

She glanced at the notification: a direct message.

Emma frowned. Her social media profiles were locked to friends only. The sender's name wasn't familiar: Liam, like Liam Nelson of the movie Taken. The profile picture was just a sleek, black Lamborghini.

Curiosity got the better of her. She opened the message.

"Did you get home safely?"

She stared at the text. Who was this? And why did it feel... personal? Against her better judgment, she typed back:

"Who is this?"

The reply was almost instant.

"Someone who owes you a thank you."

Her heart skipped. The words felt oddly intimate, yet cryptic.

"For what?" she asked.

This time, the response took longer. When it came, it sent a chill down her spine.

"For the tour. And for pretending not to remember me."

Emma's pulse quickened. William. It had to be him. But pretending not to remember? She racked her brain, but no memory of him surfaced.

"Pretending?" she typed. "Maybe you're confusing me with someone else."

The reply was immediate.

"Emma. Do you really think I don't know you?"

Her stomach turned. She locked her phone, tossing it onto the passenger seat. This was no ordinary flirtation or workplace misunderstanding.

As she drove home, her mind replayed his words. And then, her phone buzzed again.

"Check the second drawer of your desk tomorrow. Maybe then you'll understand."

Emma froze. Her desk? What could possibly be there?

By the time she reached home, her curiosity had morphed into unease. Who was William, and what did he know about her?

Tomorrow held answers, but Emma wasn't sure she was going believe it..