I had seen polite smiles deployed in photographs.
This was different.
For one disorienting second, the cold billionaire disappeared, and there was simply a man standing in front of me holding a leather cushion while trying not to laugh harder at the worst moment of my life.
“You are enjoying this,” I accused.
“A little.”
“You’re a terrible person.”
“I believe the poster heard a much more detailed version of that assessment.”
I reached for the second cushion.
His laughter stopped.
“Alexia.”
Something in his voice changed.
I lowered my hand.
He placed the cushion back on the couch.
Then he said, “You were wrong about one thing.”
My pulse jumped.
I knew exactly which part he meant, and I suddenly wished we could return to discussing financial projections.
“Only one?” I tried.
He didn’t smile this time.
“You are not office furniture.”
The room became very quiet.
I crossed my arms tighter.
“That was metaphorical.”
“I know.”
“Then you should also know that saying something nice now doesn’t erase twelve months of acting like you barely notice whether I’m standing in front of you.”
“I know that too.”
There was no defensiveness in his voice.
That unsettled me more than an argument would have.
I looked at the proposal again.
“Then what exactly are you trying to say?”
Elliot took a breath.
“I notice you.”
Three simple words.
After a year of clipped instructions and unreadable expressions, they landed harder than any speech could have.
I said nothing.
He continued carefully.
“I notice that you catch mistakes before anyone else does.
I notice that you know what I need before I ask for it.
I notice that when a meeting goes badly, you reorganize your folders afterward even when they don’t need reorganizing.”
My arms slowly dropped.
“I do not.”
“You do.”
“That proves nothing.”
“You changed the tabs on the Harrison account three times last month.”
I stared at him.
He raised an eyebrow.
“You think I don’t notice you?”
Something hot and uncomfortable rose into my face.
“That doesn’t explain why you treat me like a machine.”
“No.”
“Or why you’re colder with me than you are with half the executives who waste your time.”
“No.”
“Or why—”
“Because you work for me.”
The sentence stopped me.
Elliot pushed away from the desk.
“You are my executive assistant.
