Breaking The Wall

07| Elevator

LILA'S POV

"Mr. Devereaux?" I knocked lightly on his office door, my tablet clutched tightly in my hands as I scanned through the latest updates.

Damnit.

"Come in," he replied, his voice a low rumble.

I opened the door and stepped inside, instantly catching sight of him at his desk.

As usual, he exuded an air of confidence and authority. 

But today, he wore glasses, the sleek frames perched on his nose as he focused intently on the files before him.

Oh my gosh, he looks like a hot nerd!

"What is it, Miss Carter?" he asked, not bothering to look up.

I quickly shook off my playful thoughts and walked over to his desk, determination steeling my resolve. 

"Mr. Porter rejected the files...again."

I watched his face contort in irritation, the tension in his jaw tightening as frustration boiled beneath the surface.

"Again? That fucking old bastard," he muttered, running a hand through his hair, clearly agitated.

"Sir, perhaps we could—"

"Schedule a meeting with him. Right now."

"Uh, but sir, your schedule is—"

"—packed. I know. Squeeze it in, Carter!" His voice was firm, leaving no room for negotiation.

I gulped, feeling the weight of his urgency. 

"Yes, sir. Right away." I turned on my heel, adrenaline coursing through me as I made my way back to my desk, the pressure to make this happen weighing heavily on my shoulders. 

I couldn't let him down, not when he was counting on me to turn this situation around. 

I opened my calendar and began strategizing how to fit Mr. Porter into his schedule, determined to prove my worth as his secretary.

The door swung open suddenly. "Carter."

"Jesus!" I jumped in my seat, my heart racing as I turned to face my boss standing in the doorway. 

He was a formidable figure, exuding a mix of authority and intensity that always sent a jolt through me.

"Don't do that!" I exclaimed, trying to regain my composure and hide the flutter of nerves in my stomach.

"Sorry. Carter, Mr. Porter is waiting for me at Fleming's Prime Steakhouse," he stated, his voice steady and commanding.

What? I had just sent the message to inform him about the rejection.

"He called me," he replied, his tone clipped as if the matter was settled.

"Oh... okay," I stammered, grappling with the unexpected shift in plans.

"Finish up, you're coming with me." he instructed, his expression unreadable, the sharp lines of his jaw tightening slightly.

"Right, sir. I'll be quick."

I quickly closed my computer, trying to push aside the swirl of thoughts racing through my mind. 

Grabbing my tablet and purse, I stood up, feeling a mix of anxiety and anticipation coursing through me.

As we walked out of my office, I could feel his presence looming behind me, a silent weight that both intimidated and excited me. 

The atmosphere was thick with unspoken tension, and my mind raced with questions.