Chapter 4 Fire Beneath Glass

Zane didn't usually take the long route to his office. But today, he did.

He took the staircase down one floor instead of the elevator.

He told himself it was a security check.

A management habit. But deep down, he knew he was circling the cage he'd built-and the woman inside it.

As he reached the 49th floor, his footsteps softened on the carpet, eyes already scanning the glass enclosure.

There she was. Lila Davis. Backlit by morning sun, sleeves rolled, her fingers dancing over the keyboard as she scanned through the ledgers like a machine wired for detail. Her brows were furrowed, her lips slightly parted in concentration.

She wasn't just reading files.

She was dissecting them.

Unpacking numbers.

Connecting threads.

Learning.

Zane's jaw tensed.

She wasn't supposed to be good at this.

She was supposed to flinch.

To crack.

To ask for help. To realize this wasn't her world and retreat into the safety of some receptionist job until the debt was gone.

But she didn't flinch.

She thrived.

He turned away before she could notice him staring-but not before their eyes locked, just for a second.

Her gaze didn't drop. Neither did his.

Lila returned to her files, pretending her heartbeat hadn't just doubled. He's watching me.

Every move she made in that glass room was visible to him. He didn't have to say anything.

His silence was a presence of its own-constant, commanding, unnerving. By noon, Eva reappeared with lunch.

"Courtesy of Mr Carrington," she said gently, placing a boxed gourmet meal on Lila's desk.

Lila stared at it for a long moment, then slid it back.

"No, thank you." Eva blinked.

"Are you sure? He asked me to make sure you ate." "I'd rather eat with my own money," Lila replied, voice calm.

"Even if it's crackers." There was a pause.

Then a chuckle from the hallway. Zane was leaning on the glass wall now, arms crossed, watching with amused eyes.

"Still fighting battles no one asked you to win?" he said through the open door.

Lila didn't even turn to face him.

"Still throwing gifts no one asked you to give?" He smirked.

"I don't give gifts. I give options.

You just don't like having fewer than me."

Finally, she looked at him. "You don't intimidate me,

Mr. Carrington." "Good," he replied, voice low and smooth. "Because the people who intimidate easily don't last long around me."

Lila stood.

And for a heartbeat, the room felt like it had no air.

"Then I guess you'll be seeing a lot of me."

He held her gaze. Unmoving. Unblinking.

Lila sank back into her chair after he left, her palms slightly damp, her heart refusing to settle.

He doesn't give gifts.

He gives options.

She hated how those words stuck in her chest like thorns. But more than that, she hated how aware she was of him-his eyes, his voice, his presence.

It wasn't attraction.

Not even close.

It was the storm you feel before lightning strikes.

You don't admire it.

You brace yourself.

She pushed the untouched lunch aside, pulled the next ledger from the stack, and forced herself to focus. But even as she scanned the inked names and half-legal numbers, her mind kept slipping back to him.

Zane Carrington.

He didn't just wear power-he wielded it like a blade.

And somehow, he was making her feel like she was on trial without saying a single word.

By the time the office lights dimmed into evening mode, the floor was nearly empty. Most employees had gone home.

But on the 50th floor, above her, Zane was still working.

Lila knew because the elevator pinged.

He was coming down.

She straightened in her seat, spine stiff.

She told herself she didn't care, that she wouldn't let him see any crack.

But the energy in the room changed the moment he stepped through the doorway.

Gone was the smirk. Gone was the sarcasm.

Zane walked in with a glass of scotch in one hand, his tie slightly loosened.

His gaze landed on her-calm, unreadable.

"You're still here," he said.

"So are you." He studied her desk.

The files she'd already organized.

The half-written spreadsheet glowing on her screen.

"You're doing well," he said at last.

"Better than I expected."

She looked up slowly.

"Was that a compliment or a warning?" He didn't smile. "Whichever one motivates you."

They stood in silence. Then he stepped closer-not enough to intimidate, but enough to unsettle.

"Why didn't you take the lunch?" "I didn't come here to be fed, Mr. Carrington.

I came here to work." "You came here to repay a debt." Lila rose, meeting him eye to eye. "Same thing." His jaw tightened.

For once, he had nothing clever to say.

She watched his expression shift-just slightly.

The mask faltered.

Not enough for the world to notice, but just enough for her to see something beneath the steel.

Regret? Remorse? Or worse-respect? "I'll see you tomorrow, Miss Davis."

He turned and left, his footsteps echoing down the quiet hallway. Lila sat back down.

This was no longer just about debt.

This was about pride.

Control.

But his smile lingered for much longer than he did