Chapter 86: Chapter 86
Celeste caught sight of Larry just as he was stepping out of the elevator. She had a file tucked neatly under his arm.
She quickened her pace, her heels clicking against the polished marble floor as she rushed towards him, without caring about the weight of the thick folder in her hands pressing into her side.
"Umm, I have some questions, Mr. Larry," she called after him, breathless but steady.
She had waited an hour for him to arrive and it delayed her a little from finishing earlier as she should have.
Larry didn’t slow. His tall frame cut through the bustling corridor, purposeful and detached. The scent of his cologne—dry cedar with an edge of pepper—trailed faintly in the air. It was crisp against the hum of printers and distant phone chatter.
Her knees still felt loose, and almost unreliable, after last night with Dominic. She’d woken up with a soreness she couldn’t hide from herself, though she masked it well under a fitted pencil skirt and silk blouse. She’d told herself she could manage. She would manage.
Larry finally stopped, turning just enough to glance over his shoulder. His eyes flickered—sharp, grey, and assessing—as though weighing her worth in the seconds before he spoke.
"What’s the issue?" he snapped, his tone held no trace of warmth.
Celeste had noticed he used this clip tone on her alone, but that wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have today.
She faltered, but only for a fraction of a second. Her hands tightened on the file. "I—" She caught herself, pasted a polite chuckle over the tension curling in her stomach, and stepped forward. "I just have some questions here to ask, please."
Larry’s gaze lingered on her. His whole expression and aura was heavy with something unreadable. The silence stretched long enough for the sound of a phone ringing in the distance to wedge itself between them. Then he exhaled.
It was not a sigh, neither was it an acceptance.
"To my office. Now."
She nodded, clutching the file tighter, and fell into step behind him. The walk was short, but the energy shifted with every stride. She’d been here almost a week, and in that time Larry had been nothing but cold.
He had always been professional to the point of ice. If there was approval in him to give, she hadn’t seen it.
Inside, his office was a clean, expansive space, with black glass desk, leather chairs, and tall windows spilling muted daylight over everything.
He didn’t invite her to sit. Instead, he circled to his chair and leaned back, regarding her like she was a dirt he would love to clean off immediately.
"You came in late today," he began, his voice even, but edged.
Celeste blinked. "I came in two minutes late," she corrected softly, careful to keep her tone factual, and not defensive, to avoid offending him more than he always was when he saw her.
He chuckled like he didn’t hear her, and went on. "I don’t want to waste my time on you if you’re not going to take this position seriously," he continued. "You have potential, but you carry yourself like you’re above everyone else."
The words landed like a slap she hadn’t braced for. Her pulse increased, and beat louder in her ears. She’d never once acted with arrogance. Why would she? She was still new, and she was still learning so many things, from so many people here.
"I’m sorry," she said, the apology under her breath. She cleared her throat, repeated it, firmer this time. "I’m sorry. This won’t happen again."
Larry sat. He stretched himself forward, folding his hands over the desk, with his eyes not leaving hers. "Listen," he said slowly, as though lecturing a student, "there are plenty of qualified people here who would kill for your job. People who would crawl for the chance to work with me. I’m not seeing the initiative on your side."
Her chest tightened. She had expected critique, but not dismissal. She expected anything, but this sharp accusation. She was still finding her footing, still making sense of her workload, and here he was, telling her she was already failing.
Her fingers curled slightly against the folder, with the edges pressing into her skin. Her throat burned, and her lips itched to part, and say something, but she bit her words back, and held his gaze.
Larry’s gaze shifted. Deliberately and slowly, his gaze traveled from the crown of her head down the length of her frame and back up. When his eyes locked with hers again, he shook his head.
He parted his lips, and his words came out sharp, and bold. "Your boyfriend has a reputation outside his wealth. That’s why we hired you."
His words slapped her, and the sting was instant. Celeste’s breath caught, and the room narrowed for a heartbeat. "If you have a problem with my work," she said, her voice even but lower now, "I don’t think Dominic should be dragged into it."
Even if Celeste had seen this coming, she didn’t expect it this early.
Larry’s lips curled into a mean smile. "If you have to sleep your way to the top, Ms. Monroe, at least choose someone who can make you smarter, not just richer."
The air between them thickened. She didn’t move. A hundred sharp replies sparked in her head, but she forced them down, keeping her eyes locked on his.
Larry leaned back again, the faintest smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth, as her wordlessly kept daring her to prove him wrong.
"Can I show you what I came for now?" Celeste asked.
Larry’s eyes lingered on her, assessing again. He simply lifted a hand and gestured for her to proceed.
Celeste stepped forward, laying the folder on his desk. She opened it, each movement deliberate, controlled. She would not let her hands shake.
"This," she began, her voice smooth despite the iron coil in her chest, "is the updated client proposal for the Whiteford account. You’ll see I’ve adjusted the marketing allocations to reflect the changes in their budget without compromising the deliverables."