The 18th Floor

Chapter Five

LUCIEN'S POV 

Simon comes back up the elevator and walks into my office.

"Why the fuck did you not tell me?", I ask him. I can feel my heart beat increasing again, pounding inside my chest just after I had managed to bring it down to what one would assume to be a healthy speed. My hands have barely stopped shaking but I hid it well enough for her to not notice.

"Tell you what?", Simon challenges. I look at him because he knows exactly what I'm talking about as I pace around the room, dragging my hand through my hair.

"It doesn't matter unless you said something stupid? Oh god, what did you say you dick?", Simon says, as he takes a seat in the chair now pushed further back. He's the only one that can get away with this language, because although I am his superior at work, Simon and I have been friends for over 20 years.

We grew up together, basically like brothers, went to the same schools and even went to the same university, although Simon carried out his degree in history. Somehow, by chance, we managed to secure roles together, and since then have become a sort of double act as he floats between being a part of the HR team and organising my life.

"You don't want to know", I reply back to Simon.

"Oh, I want to know Lucien", he says as he makes himself comfortable chair, head leaning back in his hands. "HR", he says pointing to himself.

"Don't pull the HR card on me now". I rub my face in my hands as I mumble, "I said "oh, you're in a wheelchair", like an absolute prick, and her whole face dropped."

"Oh, you're such a dick. Why is that even the first thing you would say?"

"I don't know!", I sigh out as I slump back into my chair.

"The recruiter literally asked us if the building and role are accessible and you said yes."

"I thought she meant in terms of transport", I admit and Simon lets out a low chuckle with what I think is another comment of dickhead under his breath.

"I hope she heard the sincerity in my apology. I'm surprised she even went through with the paperwork. She sure did make me sweat for the job I'm giving her. I don't blame her, who says that to someone they barely know. She probably spends most of her time trying to draw away from the chair and I threw it back in her face. Oh god, she looked like she was about to cry", I let out to Simon.

I can't deny the way I felt my throat dry up at the sight of her and the eye contact she was not willing to break. Fuck, focus.

Simon carries on, "well, at least she signed the papers. You officially have a new employee. You can make amends as you go along", he smiles.

"Yh, I do", I try to smile back at him.

"She's pretty too", Simon says, giving me a side-eye. I don't say anything but I am inclined to agree. Her brunette hair slicked back into that low bun and the freckles dotting her cheeks as if they were perfectly placed by God himself. She was indeed, beautifully sculpted and the way she held eye contact made me feel lost for a few seconds.

"But tell me brother", Simon continues, "why do you still look stressed".

I shake my head as I look up at Simon and finally say what has been bothering me since I laid eyes on her.

"I think it's her."