“Grandmother.”
“Out.”
Nobody moved.
Alex sighed.
“Everyone, five minutes.”
The room emptied instantly.
Eleanor sat.
“I met pizza girl.”
Alex stared.
“What?”
“Maya.”
He stood.
“How?”
“Fate.”
“Grandmother.”
“Lobby.”
“She helped me.”
“You manipulated her.”
“That is an ugly word.”
“Accurate?”
“Partly.”
Alex rubbed his forehead.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“Dropped glove.”
“Folder.”
“Needed coffee.”
“Possibly pretended to be confused.”
He closed his eyes.
“Please stop testing women.”
Eleanor’s expression became more serious.
“I wasn’t testing her.”
“You literally just described tests.”
“I was observing.”
“Worse.”
“Alex.”
He looked.
“She’s good.”
He hated that his heart responded.
“How do you know?”
“I watched how she treated a security guard who disrespected her.”
“How?”
“Firmly.”
“Without cruelty.”
“Then she helped someone she thought was irrelevant.”
Eleanor smiled.
“She reminded me of your mother.”
That silenced him.
Alex’s mother, Caroline, had died when he was twenty-seven.
She had been gentle without being weak, which Eleanor considered the highest form of power.
Alex sat.
Eleanor continued:
“Do not ruin this by turning her into another experiment.”
His eyes narrowed.
“I’m not doing anything.”
“Good.”
“Meet her like a person.”
“How?”
“You own a corporation.”
“You can figure out coffee.”
It happened two days later.
Maya delivered documents to Harper Global’s executive floor.
The receptionist smiled too brightly.
“Someone will meet you.”
Maya looked at the package.
“I need a signature.”
“I know.”
Then Alex appeared.
No entourage.
No tie.
White shirt.
Dark trousers.
He smiled.
“Hi.”
Maya stared.
“You.”
“Me.”
“You arranged this delivery?”
“No.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
She handed him package.
“Sign.”
He did.
She turned.
“Maya.”
She stopped.
“Coffee?”
“I’m working.”
“After?”
“I’m also working after.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Still working.”
“Do you ever stop?”
“Usually when rent becomes optional.”
Alex smiled.
Then stopped because she was not joking.
Maya saw.
“It’s fine.”
“My mom has medical bills.”
“I take extra shifts.”