Office Politics and Unspoken things

Elira arrived at the office early the next morning, hoping to get ahead of her tasks before the rest of the floor filled with chatter and heels clicking on tile. She needed to anchor herself—anything to keep her mind from wandering to the vision of Vivienne leaning into Liam’s office, eyes full of something between confidence and possession.

The thought alone made her stomach twist.

But she wasn’t here for that.

She was here to work.

She powered on her computer, poured herself a cup of the overpriced Colombian roast from the shared machine, and sat down with her notepad. Meetings at nine, updated reports by eleven, and a new investor welcome package to prep by end of day. She loved having a list—it gave her something to control.

“Look who’s early again.”

Elira turned and saw a woman with strawberry blonde curls and tortoiseshell glasses waving from across the hallway. She was dressed in a mustard blazer, balancing two coffees and a laptop bag.

“Elira, right?” the woman said, walking over. “I’m Harper! Harper Ling. I work in Investor Relations, but I keep tabs on everyone. It’s sort of my unofficial role. Gossip sponge, PR buffer, part-time chaos wrangler.”

Elira chuckled, instantly warming to her energy. “Nice to meet you. Want me to hold one of those?”

“Please,” Harper said, gratefully handing over a cup. “I saw you survive Vivienne yesterday. That deserves caffeine.”

So the whole floor saw it.

Harper leaned against the edge of her desk. “Don’t let her get in your head. She’s an ex, not a supervillain. Okay, maybe a little of both.”

“She seemed… confident,” Elira said carefully.

“That’s a nice word for it. Don’t worry, though—Vivienne doesn’t stick around long. She’ll stir the pot and fly back to wherever rich fashion people go to sulk.”

Elira smirked. “Sounds peaceful.”

Harper winked. “It is. When she’s gone.”

Just then, footsteps approached, accompanied by the faint scent of clean soap and cedarwood cologne. Liam.

“Good morning,” he said, stopping at Elira’s desk. His tie was loose today, shirt sleeves rolled up just past his elbows. Casual, but not unprofessional. Just enough to make her pulse stutter.

“Morning, Liam,” Harper chirped.

“Elira, when you get a chance, I’d like you to sit in on the pitch prep with the innovation team. I want your notes. Fresh perspective.”

Elira blinked. “Me? In the prep meeting?”

“Unless you’re busy?”

“No! No, I’m not. I’d love to.”

“Good,” he said, then disappeared into his office without another word.

Harper watched him go and gave Elira a slow side-eye. “Huh.”

“What?” Elira asked, already trying to steady her nerves.

“He doesn’t usually bring his secretary into pitch preps.”

Elira stared at her screen, pretending to focus. “I’m sure it’s just a one-time thing.”

“Sure,” Harper said with a knowing smile. “Totally.”

---

The innovation team’s meeting room was a stylish mess of whiteboards, monitors, sample products, and snacks. Elira took a seat quietly in the corner, notebook at the ready.

Across the table sat a man with messy black hair, blue light glasses, and a worn hoodie under a blazer. He looked up from his laptop and smiled.

“You must be the new hire,” he said. “Elira, right?”

“Yes. Personal secretary to Mr. Valerio.”

He extended a hand. “Reid Moreno. Head of Product Dev. I’m the guy who blows half the budget, and Liam lets me because he secretly loves chaos.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, shaking his hand.

“You’ll fit in fine. Just don’t touch the coffee pods labeled ‘engineer fuel.’ They’re mine. Non-negotiable.”

Liam entered a moment later, drawing immediate silence without needing to raise his voice. His presence had that effect—an unspoken command that made even the most talkative employees sit straighter.

The meeting began, and Elira focused on taking notes. She was used to fast-paced environments, but this was a different level. Graphs, KPIs, projected ROI—all flying across the screen. And yet, she noticed something.

Every few minutes, Liam’s gaze drifted her way.

Not in a distracting or obvious way. Just enough that she felt it.

She wasn’t sure if it meant he was checking her focus or… something else.

---

After the meeting, Reid caught up with her near the elevator.

“So,” he said, slinging his laptop bag over one shoulder. “You survived Vivienne and pitch prep. That makes you one of us.”

“One of who?” she asked.

“The survivors. People who stick around long enough to matter.”

He gave her a quick grin before walking off, and Elira was left blinking at his words.

Did she want to matter here?

She wasn’t sure. She’d been trying not to.

---