It was a sinner's suicide for anyone to work at Coopers Incorporation. It was no surprise that people aimed to stray far from the Devil known as Mr Elijah Cooper.
Cold, demanding, and rough, he ruled over everything with an iron grip and a calculati...
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Nora's P.O.V
The office had turned into a ghost town around me. No one dared come near, as if my mere presence carried a plague. Even Naomi, who usually found an excuse to hover, kept her distance. Instead, notes were slid under my door, files left outside like I was some cursed entity. It was pathetic, really—just a cold, nothing more.
Still, I couldn’t blame them. I probably looked as bad as I felt. My nose was raw and red, my throat burned, and every inch of my body ached. My hair was an untamed mess, and my voice? Somewhere between a witch’s cackle and a broken radio. Elijah had predicted this, the smug bastard. Somehow, that made it worse. The thought of him being right sent a fresh wave of irritation through me.
I had expected—hoped—for a slow, uneventful day. But, of course, I had forgotten one crucial thing. Elijah was still Elijah, and he never missed an opportunity to make my life miserable.
A knock at my door made me groan, the simple act of standing a punishment in itself. Every joint protested as I shuffled toward it, half-dreading what I already knew was coming. And there he was, leaning against the doorframe like he owned the place. Which, technically, he did.
Elijah looked infuriatingly perfect in his tailored navy suit, his shirt crisp, his tie slightly loosened like some magazine model trying to look effortlessly powerful. He took one look at me and smirked.
"Ah, Nora," he mused, hands in his pockets. "I see yesterday caught up to you. You should’ve taken the day off. But since you're here, I might as well put you to good use."
His chuckle was rich, amused, and entirely at my expense. I resisted the urge to throw something at him. Instead, I glared, stepping aside so he could follow me to my desk.
"I'm glad you mentioned taking the day off, Elijah," I said, keeping my voice polite. "How about you let me go home, seeing as I feel like I’m on my deathbed?"
"If that were true, you wouldn’t have come in at all," he countered smoothly. "Besides, I have a deal for you."
He reached into his suit pocket, pulling out a USB stick and a couple of pages filled with notes. He placed them in front of me, his movements deliberate.
"If you can copy the exact files on this USB and transfer them into our system, you can go home."
It sounded easy. Too easy. I eyed him warily. "Why me? You have a whole office full of people who could do this."
His expression shifted, the playful arrogance fading into something unreadable. His gaze held mine, sharp, unwavering.
"Because I trust you."
The words caught me off guard, sinking into me in a way I wasn’t prepared for. Elijah wasn’t the kind of man who handed out trust easily. And yet, here he was, saying it like it was obvious.
