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Chapter 20 – The First Real Fight
Eleanor
She returned from Chicago changed.
Not visibly—her heels still clicked with purpose, her notes still landed with precision, her posture still straight and polished. But inside, she was unraveling.
She’d crossed a line.
No, obliterated it.
And now she had to live in the wreckage, pretending it hadn’t happened. Pretending that Marcus Sterling hadn’t kissed her like a man starving. That she hadn’t let him. That he hadn’t touched her with reverence and need. That he hadn’t fallen asleep beside her, one arm curled around her waist like he belonged there.
She tried to bury it.
She tried to be better.
Colder.
Stronger.
She couldn’t afford to feel.
Not when Leo’s face was just one accidental encounter away from blowing everything apart.
So she became the perfect assistant again. Efficient. Unshakable. Untouchable.
Until Marcus snapped.
He cornered her in the office kitchen. The glass door clicked closed behind them. He looked like he hadn’t slept—shirt slightly wrinkled, tie loosened, frustration radiating from every inch of him.
“What are we doing?” he asked.
Her pulse spiked. “I’m on break. Five minutes. I’ll be out shortly.”
“Don’t do that.” His voice was sharp. “Don’t hide behind your job. Not with me.”
“I’m not hiding,” she lied. “We agreed. That night didn’t mean anything.”
His eyes narrowed. “We didn’t agree to that. You decided that. While I was still in your bed.”
Her breath caught.
He stepped closer.
“I get it. You’re scared. But don’t insult us both by pretending nothing happened.”
“It can’t happen again.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s messy. It’s unprofessional. Because I have boundaries.”
“Bullshit,” he snapped. “You’re not scared of professionalism. You’re scared of me. Of whatever this is. And I’m tired of walking on eggshells while you rewrite reality to make yourself feel safe.”
Her voice rose. “I’m not rewriting anything. You are. You think one night gives you access to my life? My decisions? My rules? It doesn’t.”
A beat.
His voice dropped. “That’s not what I want. I just want you to be honest.”
“With you?” she asked, her voice cracking. “I can’t afford that.”
The silence that followed wasn’t peaceful. It was weighted. Sharp.
He studied her, jaw tense.
“You know what hurts the most?” he said finally. “You act like I crossed some line… but you were right there with me. Every second. Every breath. You let me in.”
She looked away.
“I made a mistake,” she said flatly. “And I’ve corrected it.”
Marcus flinched like she’d slapped him.
A long silence passed.
Then, without another word, he turned and left—leaving her alone, with her spine straight and her heart splintering.
