Chapter 5 Whispers in the Office

Whispers in the Office

Emma sat at her desk Monday morning, her fingers motionless above the keyboard, heart fluttering. She could feel the weight of the eyes on her back. The whispering had started the moment she walked in. The usual morning greetings were replaced with smirks, sidelong glances, and hushed conversations that died the second she entered a room.

Something had changed. Everyone could sense it.

She wasn't surprised. Not really. After all, she hadn't exactly been subtle, slipping out of the building late Friday night with Aiden's jacket still clutched around her shoulders.

Lana, her best friend at work and her sounding board, strolled over with two cups of coffee. She handed one to Emma with a long, knowing look.

"Okay, spill. What happened?" she whispered, leaning over Emma's cubicle wall.

Emma flushed. "Nothing."

Lana rolled her eyes. "Emma. You left with the CEO's jacket, and Ashley saw you coming out of his office. You're glowing. That's not 'nothing.'"

Emma sipped the coffee to buy herself time. "Fine. Something happened. But I'm keeping it professional."

"You sure? Because the whole office is buzzing. And Ashley's face looked like she sucked a lemon all morning."

Emma groaned. "Ugh. Of course she's mad."

Ashley, the impeccably dressed queen of passive aggressive insults, had made her interest in Aiden Sterling clear for over a year. She'd once brought him homemade cookies in a pink tin with her phone number taped to the bottom. Now, Ashley strutted past Emma's desk with a glare that could slice glass.

"Careful," Lana warned, leaning in closer. "Don't let feelings cloud your judgment. Aiden might be hot, but he's still the boss. And if this gets out of hand, you could get hurt. Or worse."

Emma nodded slowly. "I know. But... it's not just a fling."

Lana raised an eyebrow. "And he said that?"

Emma didn't reply. Because he hadn't. Not in words. But in the way he looked at her, touched her it felt real.

That evening, as Emma was organizing her reports, her email pinged.

From: Aiden Sterling

Subject: Dinner

There's a client meeting tonight at The Palisade. I'd like you to join me. 7 PM. Wear something elegant.

No 'please.' No smiley face. No emoji.

Emma bit her lip. It was phrased like a command. But something in her chest fluttered like it was an invitation.

Lana raised an eyebrow from across the room when Emma reached for her phone. "Is that a work meeting?"

"Apparently."

Emma arrived at The Palisade at 7 sharp, dressed in a navy blue wrap dress that shimmered slightly under the low lights. The restaurant was stunning sleek, high end, and dripping in luxury. Aiden was already there, seated at a private booth tucked near the window.

He stood when he saw her, eyes sweeping over her slowly. "You look... stunning."

"Thank you," she replied, heart pounding.

Dinner began with polite conversation about quarterly projections and potential client expansions. But as the wine flowed and their meals arrived, the atmosphere shifted.

Aiden leaned closer. "You're the smartest woman in this company, Emma. Do you have any idea how hard it's been not to make every meeting about you?"

She looked down, cheeks burning. "I thought we were here to talk about clients."

"Maybe," he said softly. "Or maybe I just wanted an excuse to see you again."

Her breath hitched.

Before she could reply, her phone buzzed - a call from her sister.

"Sorry," she whispered, stepping outside to answer.

"Emma! It's Dad. He's unconscious. He just collapsed. We need you!"

Her heart stopped.

"I'm on my way!" she said, already rushing for the curb.

Emma burst into the small restaurant where she'd planned a quiet dinner with her father, younger brother, and sister. It had been her way of reconnecting to show them she hadn't changed, that she was still part of the family.

Instead, she found her father on the floor, pale, lips blue, her sister kneeling beside him sobbing.

"Call an ambulance!" Emma ordered. "Now!"

She pulled out her phone, hands shaking, and instinctively dialed the only number that came to mind not the emergency line.

"Can you send your driver? Please. I need help," she said breathlessly into the phone. "It's my dad. He collapsed."

She gave the address. The call ended. Aiden didn't say anything.

Minutes later, the sound of expensive tires screeched outside.

But it wasn't the driver who walked through the door.

It was Aiden.

His expression was tight with concern. He crossed the room in quick strides and knelt beside her father. Without a word, he helped lift the man gently, supporting his neck and spine as he carried him to the waiting car.

Emma stared, stunned. Her heart swelled.

"Where's your driver?" she asked.

"I drove," he said shortly. "Let's go."

At the hospital, the waiting room was too white, too quiet. Emma paced. Her brother sat, staring at the floor. Her sister cried softly.

Aiden sat beside Emma, his hand resting lightly on hers.

"You didn't have to come," she whispered.

He didn't answer. Just squeezed her hand.

Hours passed before the doctor emerged. "He's stable. A sudden drop in blood sugar. He'll be fine."

Emma sagged in relief.

Aiden walked her outside, the night chill wrapping around them.

"I'll have my driver pick you up tomorrow," he said.

"Why did you come?" she asked, voice trembling.

His eyes met hers. "Because when you needed someone, you called me."

She blinked, heart aching.

Then she did the unthinkable. She rose on her toes and kissed him there in the hospital parking lot, under the flickering yellow streetlight. It wasn't wild or passionate. It was soft. Grateful. Real.

He didn't push for more.

He just held her.

And for the first time, Emma wasn't afraid of the whispers anymore.

Her father was discharged that night. Getting to Emma's house Aiden placed Emma's unconscious father gently on the couch and checked his pulse, his phone buzzed once, then again. He glanced at it and froze.

Emma noticed his face pale, eyes locked on the screen like it had slapped him. "What is it?" she asked.

He didn't answer.

Instead, he turned the phone around.

There on the screen was a photo blurry, zoomed in... but clear enough.

Her.

Him.

In his office.

And under it, a message:

"You think you can play games with me? Wait till she finds out."