SCARRED HEARTS

CHAPTER 4: BOUNDERIES

Lila sat at her small desk, the file Sebastian had handed her staring back at her with an almost mocking intensity. The words on the first page were a blur—corporate jargon and technical terms she wasn't sure she understood. But it didn't matter. She wasn't here to analyze the contents. She was here to do.

She glanced at the clock on the wall. Two hours had passed, and she was still stuck on the first few pages. The weight of his presence lingered in her mind, clouding her thoughts. His words kept echoing in her head: "I can help you. I can show you what you're truly capable of."

Help her? Lila doubted it. Nothing Sebastian Hawke did was ever out of kindness. It was all about control. Power. Manipulation.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, but she couldn't focus. Her thoughts kept drifting back to him—his icy demeanor, the way he had stood so close to her yesterday, his presence so overwhelming, like the walls were closing in around her. His eyes had held something unreadable, something dangerous, and yet... there was an undeniable pull. It terrified her, yet it intrigued her more than she wanted to admit.

Before she could get lost in her thoughts again, the door to her office swung open without warning.

"Are you done yet?" Sebastian's voice cut through the silence, as crisp and commanding as ever.

Lila jerked in her seat, her heart leaping into her throat. She quickly scrambled to push the file aside, though it was too late. His gaze was already on the open pages, as though he could see everything she hadn't gotten done.

"Not yet," she muttered, trying to cover her nervousness, her fingers now clutching the edge of the desk. "I... I'm still working on it."

Sebastian didn't respond immediately. Instead, he took a slow, deliberate step into the room, his eyes scanning the space as if measuring everything about her. He wasn't in a suit today. He wore a black leather jacket over a white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal the sharp lines of his forearms. Despite the casual appearance, there was still something lethal about him, something that made the air in the room feel thick and heavy.

He stopped a few feet away from her desk, his eyes locking with hers. His expression was unreadable, but the tension in his gaze was unmistakable.

"You should know," he said, his voice low, "that I don't like wasting time."

Lila swallowed hard. She had no doubt he wasn't talking about the work. He was talking about her.

"I'm sorry," she said, feeling small under his gaze. "I'm not used to—" She faltered. Used to what? This wasn't just an office job. This was something much more complicated, and every step felt like it led her deeper into a place she didn't want to go.

"Used to what?" Sebastian cut in, his voice sharp. He took another step forward, and Lila found herself instinctively leaning back, her breath catching in her throat. "Tell me, Lila. What aren't you used to?"

Her heart was beating faster now. She could feel the space between them shrinking with every step he took, his presence suffocating. She opened her mouth to respond, but her voice caught in her throat. She didn't have the words. Not for him. Not for this.

He was standing so close now that she could feel the heat of his body, and it made her pulse race. There was something about him, something in the way he commanded the room without even trying, that unsettled her. He was dangerous in a way she couldn't explain, a storm she could never outrun. And for some reason, she couldn't look away.

Finally, she managed a whisper, her voice betraying her nerves. "I'm not used to being... pushed like this."

Sebastian's lips curled into a small, knowing smile, but there was no kindness in it. It was predatory. Cold. "You'll learn to get used to it. People like me don't wait around for you to catch up, Lila." He paused for a moment, and his eyes gleamed with something darker. "And neither should you."

Lila wanted to tell him to back off. She wanted to say something—anything—that would break this tension. But she couldn't. She was frozen, caught in his gaze like prey under the stare of a predator.

Without another word, he turned and walked toward the door. But just before he left, he looked over his shoulder, his expression inscrutable.

"I'll be back in an hour. I expect progress."

Then, without another glance, he was gone, leaving her to stare at the empty doorway, her body still trembling from his proximity.

Lila was rushing now—furiously flipping through the file in front of her, trying to make sense of the corporate mess she'd been given. But no matter how much she tried, she couldn't escape the feeling that Sebastian's presence was always just behind her, looming.

And then, almost as if summoned by her thoughts, the door opened again.

"An hour's up," Sebastian said, stepping into the room. His voice was even, but there was a coldness to it that made Lila's stomach tighten. He didn't bother to glance at her desk; instead, he walked over to the window, his back to her once again.

Lila was already on edge, but now, with him in the room, it felt almost unbearable. She couldn't tell if she was relieved or more terrified.

"I'm sorry," she said, forcing the words out as she stood from her chair. "I'm still working on it. I—"

He turned then, his eyes narrowing just slightly. "You're still working on it?" The question wasn't an inquiry—it was a challenge, a threat. His gaze lingered on her, sharp and unyielding. "Lila, you need to understand something. Time doesn't wait for you. I don't wait for you. So if you can't handle this... I'll find someone who can."

The harshness of his words struck like a slap, and Lila recoiled slightly, even though she tried not to show it. She had to fight the instinct to back down, to apologize. She couldn't let him see that she was rattled.

"I can handle it," she said, her voice firmer than she felt. "I just need time."

Sebastian's eyes bored into hers, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. "You're running out of time."

He walked over to her desk then, looking at the half-filled pages of the file. He reached for it, and before she could stop him, he turned the pages with a cold, clinical gaze.

"You'll get this done, Lila," he said, his voice dangerously quiet now. "One way or another."

And with that, he walked out again, leaving her in the silence of his absence.

But this time, the silence was deafening.

Lila felt something inside her—something deep and unsettling—stir. It was fear, yes. But it was also something else. Something that, for reasons she couldn't explain, she couldn't push away.

Something that made her wonder if, deep down, she was already too far gone to escape.

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