Chapter 3 The Line I Shouldn't Cross

(Fiona's POV)

The moment the car stopped in front of Lachlan Conglomerate; my stomach twisted. Glass, steel, and silence. Edinburgh's skyline towered above, but it was this building-the name carved into the sky like a threat-that made my lungs tighten.

The driver glanced at me. "We're here, ma'am."

Ma'am. God. I wasn't ready for that kind of weight.

"Thanks," I whispered, voice hoarse. I stepped out. The wind slapped my coat open. I fixed my eyes on the lettering across the doors-Lachlan Conglomerate-and muttered under my breath, "Fiona, you're here. Now stand the hell up."

I didn't feel brave. I felt like a liar.

Inside, everything gleamed. Polished floors and Sharp lines. The smell of clean money and colder power. The security guard greeted me. "Welcome to Lachlan Conglomerate."

I forced a smile. "Thanks."

At the front desk, I kept my tone even. "Hi. Fiona Stewart. I have an appointment." The receptionist barely looked up. She made a call. A young guy with dead eyes and a polite smile showed up to walk me down.

We didn't talk. HR was bright and sterile. The kind of place where bad decisions wear good suits. The manager slid a folder toward me. "Congratulations, Ms. Stewart. Executive secretary to the CEO."

I nodded. "Thank you."

My mouth said it. My soul curled up like it was choking. "You'll be trained for a week. Then you'll report directly to Mr. Lachlan MacGregor."

Lachlan.

That name scraped the back of my throat. I didn't flinch. Not on the outside. But every part of me remembered. His voice. His eyes. His wedding vows to my best friend. I had no business being here, but I didn't have a choice because I need this job badly.

But I was broken. Out of options. And Isla-God! Isla had offered this job like it was nothing. Like she hadn't just thrown me into the mouth of the man I tried so hard to avoid.

I stopped by her office after I left the HR office, like I said I would. She pulled me into a hug like no time had passed. "My dear friend, congratulations!" She commented brimming smile. I hugged her back. Stiff and guarded. Lying through my teeth with every breath.

Training went fast. Blindingly fast. Files, protocols and policies were studied intensely. I stayed late. Said yes to everything and even smiled when it hurt.

On Friday, my trainer gave me a knowing look. "You're ready. Good luck. You'll need it." I didn't ask why. I already knew. That weekend, Isla came to my room with that grin of hers. "How are you feeling about Monday?"

I forced a casual shrug. "I'm ready."

"Perfect! We're going shopping. The bills on me. My treat."

I blinked. "You've done enough," I murmured. She laughed it off. "Don't be silly."

I didn't argue again. We came home with bags-designer, delicate, dazzling. All the things I used to afford before everything collapsed. Now, they just felt like shackles made of silk.

Monday came. I wore the war paint: heels, lipstick, confidence I didn't feel.

8:00 a.m. sharp, I knocked. "Come in," he said.

Lachlan.

God!... I hadn't seen him in over a year not only when I met him in his mansion few days ago. Not really. Just flashes-wedding photos, social posts, birthday dinners I ghosted. But now here he was. Right in front of me.

He looked... untouchable.

Our eyes locked and his mouth twitched into a slow but unreadable smile. "You're the new secretary." I straightened my spine. "Yes, sir. Fiona Stewart."

"Good," he said. "Let's begin." And just like that, I was under him and working for him. The first few days? All was business.

He barely looked at me. Barely spoke unless necessary. But I felt the the tension. The silent pulse between every word. The way my skin buzzed when his hand brushed mine during a file handoff. Too long, too soft and too dangerous.

Then one afternoon, everything cracked. "Close the door," he said.

I did.

He seemed unsure of whether he wanted to save me or ruin me as he gazed out from the window. "You're doing an amazing job." He commended.

I kept my voice flat. "Thank you." He turned. Crossed his arms. Leaned against the desk. That look in his eyes-quiet chaos. "You're smart. You're sharp. And..."

Pause.

"And you're beautiful." The air snapped. My spine went rigid.

"Sir-"

"Lachlan," he said. "Call me Lachlan." I shook my head. "I'm here to work." His smile was darker now. "I want to take you to dinner."

Silence.

"You're married," I said, barely breathing. His jaw tightened. "It's complicated." I looked down. Fists clenched at my sides. "I can't," I said. "I won't."

He shrugged like it didn't burn. "Think about it."

I left fast. If I stayed a second longer, maybe I would've said yes. That night, I didn't sleep but ruminating on the happenings on the previous day at the office. Lachlan haunted every part of my mind and I can hear his voice and smell his scent. The way my name sounded different when he called me.

Damn it..., and the guilt-God, the guilt was unbearable. Because Isla didn't deserve this kind of betrayal from her best friend. Hmmm....

The next week, it got worse. His looks lingered. His tone dipped lower. Every interaction burned like it wanted to leave scars. Then Isla started visiting his office more. Smiling. Bringing food. Laughing like the world hadn't shifted.

And I-

I started disappearing. One morning, I stood in front of Lachlan's desk, notebook in hand, armor barely holding.

"You're dodging me," he said. "I'm busy." He didn't laugh. Not really. "I know this is wrong. But I can't stop thinking about you."

I swallowed. "You have a wife. A good one."

"I know but you won't understand," he said, voice cracking. "I didn't come here for this. I don't want this." I snapped. "I can't," I repeated. "Don't make me quit."

He stopped. Eyes narrowed. Then a slow nod. "Back to work." And that was it. The next few days were colder than winter. He barely looked at me. I buried myself in admin hell. Coffee runs. Schedules. Emails and routine.

But every time Isla walked in with her sunshine smile and homemade lasagna- A little part of me cracked, conscience was pricking me and I felt so bad inside me. Because I hated the way he looked at me.

This thing between us wasn't an accident anymore. It was a choice.

And if someone didn't stop it soon....

Someone was going to get hurt.