Chapter 2 EPISODE 2

Unraveling the World of Wynn Global

Lois's POV

I walk into the lobby of Wynn Global. It feels like I'm entering a another world, one that doesn't exactly fit with folks like me. As I walk up to the reception counter, the chilly marble flooring mirror my timid steps. The receptionist doesn't even look up at me. Her eyes are locked to the screen, and her fingers move across the keyboard with perfect timing.

"Lois Callahan," I say, and my voice seems too loud in the calm, clean room.

Without uttering a word, she nods and points to a hallway. I swallow hard, and my heart is racing. The walls are a bright white color, and the air smells like expensive cologne and cold, shiny metal. There is a lot of chrome, glass, and quiet here, which makes me feel like I'm a bug under a microscope.

I follow the receptionist's motion and walk deeper into the center of this corporate maze, where my footsteps are louder than I'd like them to be. At last, I get to a door at the end of the hall. A man with broad shoulders and a towering frame stands at the door. He is wearing a tailored black suit. He doesn't say anything; he just holds the door open. I nod, not sure what I'm supposed to do, and walk into the office.

The area is huge, with windows that go from floor to ceiling and a whole cityscape below me. And then there's this guy. Alex Wynn. He stands at his desk with his hands behind his back and his gaze on the skyline outside, not on me. His presence fills the room, and I feel a peculiar pull in my chest that I can't explain. His strong jawline and well-cut suit scream "I'm in charge." His quiet is like a command that isn't voiced.

He gently turns to look at me. His blue gaze cut through the space between us. He doesn't say anything; he just watches. My heart rate goes up and my throat gets dry.

Finally, he adds, "Lois Callahan," and his voice is soft, like silk on stone. "Welcome."

The door clicks shut softly behind me, leaving me alone with him. Alex doesn't talk right away. He just stares at me, his gaze steady and almost predatory. I try not to squirm, but his looks seem to take away all the confidence I had left.

"Sit," he says in a low voice, like a whisper that nonetheless means anything.

I hesitate for a time, torn between terror and the strange need to do what he says. Before I can think about it, my legs move, and I sit down on the chair in front of his desk, keeping my hands tightly folded in my lap.

Alex doesn't sit down. He stays standing, with his back straight and his eyes on me. You can almost feel the tension in the air. I feel like people are judging me not only on my skills but also on who I am. The quiet between us gets thicker, but it doesn't seem bad-more like a fragile tension, a time when something that hasn't been uttered is about to come out.

He moves closer, and for a moment, I remember how much taller he is than I am. His presence is so strong that it fills the area around him. Even though the room is cool, I can feel the heat coming off of his body.

"Coffee," he adds, and it's not a suggestion. It's a query with a command inside.

I blink, surprised. "Excuse me?" My voice seems too loud, and my words are awkward in front of his calm authority.

His eyes get a little sharper, as if he's anxiously waiting for me to catch up. "Get me coffee," he says again, this time more softly but with more force.

I don't know what to say for a second. He's not furious or disrespectful; he just expects everyone to do what he says. I've heard of people like him before, but the way he says it makes me want to do what he says, even if I'm not sure why I feel this way.

"Yes, sir," I answer, getting up as soon as the words leave my mouth.

I walk into the small kitchen in the office, trying to ignore the fast beating of my heart. Alex is still behind me, and he can't stop looking at me. There is something evil in his gaze that follows me everywhere I go, even when I'm only pouring coffee.

I take a deep breath and concentrate on what I need to do. The silver coffee maker hums softly as I push the button, and the smell of fresh coffee fills the space between us. My hands are steady, but my mind is racing, trying to figure out what kind of trap I've gotten into.

Hearing his footsteps makes my heart race. I can feel him getting closer behind me, but I won't turn around. I don't know what he wants, but I'm trying to keep control of something-anything.

"You don't have to be so formal," he murmurs softly, like honey flowing over a rough rock. Not with me.

His remarks are in the air, without any weight. The coffee maker makes a noise, but I'm not paying attention to it anymore. His presence is making the space feel more smaller, like it's bearing down on me. My heart races, and I wonder why I can feel him so strongly and why every word he says seems to wrap around me.

I give him the cup, and for a split second, my fingers touch his. The touch sends a wave of fire up my arm, and I hastily draw away, feeling embarrassed.

He doesn't appear to notice or care. He takes the cup and keeps looking at me, as if he is giving me a command. "Thank you," he says, but it sounds like more than just a thank you.

I sit back down, but the air feels different now-charged. He hasn't raised his voice once, yet in this quiet room, every word and movement he makes feels like a strong force pushing at me.

I wonder if I will ever be able to get away from it.

The morning is dragging on, and I can already feel the weight of the world on my shoulders. I feel like I'm walking on glass every time I move in this office. There is no place for mistakes or doubt here. I feel like I can't get away from the eyes that are always on me.

The workplace is so silent that the hum seems deafening, but all I can hear is the subtle scratch of my pen as I fill out yet another form. The room is clean and tidy, yet it feels like a prison.

I look back at Alex's office to see whether he's watching me again. It's strange that he always appears to know where I am and what I'm doing, even when he doesn't say anything. It's as if he is still there after he has departed.

Then I see it: a tiny movement out of the corner of my eye. Alex. He is standing at the door to his office, and his piercing eyes are fixated on me. His stare is so strong that it makes me freeze. It feels like he can look right through me.

I try to look away, but his stare is so strong that I can't. I take a deep breath and turn back to my desk, hoping he didn't see how I reacted. I try to concentrate on what I'm doing, but I can sense him. Even if he doesn't say anything, you can feel the weight of his attention.

All of a sudden, the room is too small. My heart races. What is he thinking? What does he want from me?

A moment later, I hear his voice. It's quiet and controlled, like everything else in this facility. He says, "Lois," in a sharp yet quiet voice. "Come here."

My hands shake a little as I rise up, and the sound of my shoes clicking hard on the floor makes me nervous. As I approach toward his office, I can feel the heat of his gaze on me the whole time.

He waits in the doorway and watches me come closer. I try to calm my breathing so my hands don't shake. The closer I approach, the more I understand that he isn't just looking at me. He is looking at me.

I stand in front of Alex, not knowing what to say. My heart beats faster with each passing second. The quiet between us is dense and hard to breathe in. He doesn't move or even blink. I attempt to keep my eyes on him, but I can't. It's like peering into nothingness.

"Do you always work this quietly?" he says in a low, slow voice. It's a basic question, but it has a sharp edge to it.

I swallow and try to get my thoughts in order. "I'm just trying to keep up with everything," I add, my voice shaking a little.

He leans against the door frame with his arms crossed and keeps looking at me. It seems like he's studying me, looking for something concealed in the way he looks at me. He says, "You're doing fine," but his voice doesn't seem warm. It seems more like a comment than a compliment.

I nod, not sure what to say. The silence gets thicker, and I feel like it's swallowing me up. That's odd. I work in places where people chat, make noise, and move about all the time. But with Alex, things are different. His quietness is like a command.

"Looks like you've been able to keep things under control," he adds again, looking at my hands. "But I believe you can do more than that."

I want to fight back and tell him that I'm already doing everything I can. But I can't think of the right words. His presence is too strong and all-encompassing.

Then, out of nowhere, he advances closer, and his face is only a few inches from mine. His breath is warm on my skin, and my heart skips a beat. It feels like he's touching me, but he's not.

"Lois, don't be so stiff," he says in a soft but firm voice. "Take it easy. You aren't just here to do your job. "You're here to learn."

The weight of what he says hits me harder than I thought it would. I can feel the tension in the room, and my stomach is turning as I try to hold myself together. He isn't only talking about my job.