Then she looks up, meeting my gaze with those big, soul-wrecking eyes, and my whole world tilts.
Lila blinks up at me, uncertain, hesitant, but here. She’s here.
My grip tightens on the doorknob, grounding myself. I half expect her to disappear if I move too fast, like this is anothercruel hallucination conjured by my sleep-deprived brain.
But she doesn’t vanish. She just sits there, her fingers smoothing over the hem of her dress, as if she’s just as overwhelmed as I am.
I don’t take my eyes off her as I reach for the desk phone, pressing the button to call Claire.
“Yes, Mr Ashcroft?”
“Cancel the rest of my meetings.” My voice is rough, uneven.
There’s a beat of silence before she replies, amused. “Already done, sir.”
I exhale sharply. Smart woman. Mental note: Give Claire a pay rise.
I set the receiver down, but I don’t move closer. Not yet. Instead, I watch Lila, waiting for her to speak first, because I need to hear why she’s here.
She finally stands, smoothing her hands down her dress, glancing around my office like she doesn’t belong here. She doesn’t. She’s too soft, too vibrant, too real for this cold, lifeless space.
“I like your office,” she says, though her voice lacks conviction.
I smirk, stepping toward her. “Liar.”
She lets out a small huff of laughter. “Yeah. It’s awful.”
Just like that, the tension shatters.
I take another step, closing the space between us, my pulse pounding. She’s here. She’s in front of me and I can’t go another second without knowing why.
“Lila.” I exhale her name like a prayer. “Tell me why you’re here.”
She lifts her chin, meeting my gaze head-on. Brave. Always brave.
Instead of answering, she reaches into the cotton bag slung over her shoulder and pulls something out. My brows furrow as she holds it up, and then I see it, the Mr & Mrs mug set.
The same one I sent her weeks ago. My chest tightens as she walks over to my desk, places the “Mr” mug on the polished surface, and picks up a Sharpie.
I watch in stunned silence as she uncaps it, leans over, and in bold, deliberate strokes, writes “On Trial” beneath the word Mr.
My lips twitch despite the pounding of my heart.
She turns back to me, arching a brow. “I take commitments very seriously, Ben.”
I cross my arms, intrigued. “Do you?”
She nods, all mock-seriousness, adjusting the mug with deliberate precision. “You’ll have to interview for the position.”
I huff out a laugh, shaking my head as I take the cup from her. “An interview?”
She shrugs, biting back a smile. “These things require due diligence.”
I glance at the mug, then back at her. “You know I like matcha, right?”
She smirks. “Good. Then you’re already halfway qualified.”
Something warm unfurls in my chest. This is Lila, my Lila. Sharp, quick-witted, completely incapable of letting anything be easy.
