He didn't respond. Just turned and started walking, his pace measured, his eyes fixed straight ahead.
"Mr. Hunter." I called his name, but he kept going. "Are you alright?"
One sharp nod without turning. A lie, and we both knew it. But I let him have it because some lies are the only thing keeping a person upright, and I’d told enough of my own to recognize the shape of one.
I watched him disappear into the stairwell.
I stood in the hallway for a long time.What was he doing in the elevator?He’d seen me inside when he stepped in.
Did he come to that elevator on purpose? But why? To fire me again? Or maybe tell me seventeen more ways the orchid had ruined his morning?
I didn’t have an answer. I wasn’t sure I wanted one.
Eventually I went to the bathroom. Washed my hands under water so hot it hurt. The pink swirled down the drain and I tried to make sense of a morning that started with a flower and ended with me on the floor of a dark elevator holding a man’s face while he fought off ghosts I couldn’t see.
The orchid was in the break room where I’d left it. White petals catching the window light. Peaceful. Oblivious. I picked it up, carried it down the back stairwell, and set it next to the dumpster.
I wasn’t angry. I’d been furious minutes ago—humiliated, fighting tears over a plant I’d spent money I didn’t have on because an article on the internet told me he loved orchids, and I thought I could bridge the distance between us with a flower. That felt naive now. Almost embarrassing. You don’t reach a man like Jace Hunter by knowing what he likes. You reach him by understanding what he’s afraid of and making sure you’re never part of it.
I went back upstairs. Priya was near my desk with a coffee.
"Hey." She studied my face. "You okay? You look like you’ve had a morning."
"I’m fine."
"You sure? Mr Hunter left his office and crossed the floor looking for someone, which apparently hasn’t happened since the building was constructed, and then the elevator went down for maintenance, and now you look like…" She read my face and stopped. "Never mind. None of my business."
"Appreciate that, Priya. Don't worry. I'm alright."
She gave me a small nod and wandered back toward the art department with a coffee-cup salute.
I sat at my desk and tried to work. Couldn’t. My hands smelled like soap from scrubbing them too hard and every time I closed my eyes I saw his face in the dark, the way his eyes looked when the lights came back on. Like a man who’d been caught naked and couldn’t find his clothes.
About an hour later, Miles appeared at my desk. Not his usual entrance. No grin or breezy one-liner. He just walked up and stood there, his mouth set in a line I'd never seen on him before, and I knew before he opened it that he'd heard.
"I owe you an apology," he said.
I looked up from my screen. "For what?"
"The orchid. The pollen allergy. It should have been in your briefing materials and it wasn’t. That’s my mistake." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I’m sorry, Anna. I should have made sure you had everything you needed."
"It’s fine."
"It’s not fine. You walked in trying to do something nice and got blindsided because I dropped the ball on paperwork." His eyes stayed on mine, patient, unhurried, not letting me off easy. "How are you doing? Honestly. I’m still sorry. Jace must have been hard on you."
"I’m fine," I said again, and this time I almost meant it. "But is he okay?"
Miles didn’t answer. He just looked at that closed door, and the silence said more than any answer would have.
"Let me know if you need anything," he said.
He gave my shoulder a brief squeeze and walked away. I watched him go, and then it was just me and the hum of the building and that closed door at the end of the hall.
The rest of the day passed in suspended quiet. I managed the schedule, fielded calls from developers and legal and a gaming journalist requesting an interview Jace would never agree to. His door stayed closed.
At four, I texted him.
Anna
