Page 51 of The Secretary Volume II

Lena

The table is set perfectly, too perfect.The Wexley feels like a place where people don’t make mistakes.Everything is in its place, just like him.

Ellis sits across from me, effortlessly calm, wearing that same inscrutable expression that makes me wonder if he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

I take a sip of wine, the glass cold in my hand, my fingers tightening around it without thinking.The shoes are on my feet, and I can’t shake the feeling that they don’t belong—thatIdon’t belong.

He watches me, his gaze too steady, too composed.It’s not the warmth I expected.It’s like he’s studying me, analyzing the pieces in front of him.

“You’re quiet,” he observes, his voice light, almost teasing.“I would’ve thought you’d be more...engaged.”

It’s not a question.It’s an observation that leaves no room for rebuttal.I try to laugh it off, swallowing the strange sensation crawling up my throat, but it doesn’t feel natural.It feels wrong.

The truth is, the moment I stepped into this restaurant, something inside me locked up.And I’m not sure why.

“I’m just trying to keep things...professional,” I say, keeping the words even, trying to conceal my nerves.“We have to maintain boundaries, right?Business is business.”

Ellis tilts his head slightly, like he’s considering my response with a certain kind of dispassion.“Boundaries are useful, sure.But I’ve learned that they can be so limiting.Don’t you think?”

I let the words hang there for a second.“I suppose,” I say, finally.“But in my experience, boundaries keep things from getting complicated.”

“Complicated?”he repeats, his lips curling into the faintest smile.“What a polite way to put it.But I would venture to say you’re quite familiar with complications…no?”

“I’m trying to be less familiar.”

He laughs.But it doesn’t stick.His expression turns serious.“Tell me, what’s it like?”

“What’swhatlike?”

“What’s it like to fail?”

I stiffen.“What do you mean?”

“Your past,” he clarifies, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.“Your marriage.Your business.You had ambition once.Then what happened?”

His gaze is unrelenting, digging into me like a needle, and I realize he’s not asking because he’s curious—he’s asking because he already knows the answer.

“You’ve never failed at anything?”

He doesn’t hesitate.“No.Never.I’ve had disappointment, like anyone, sure.But I never fail.”

I tip my glass in his direction.“Lucky you.”

“Because here’s the thing about failure, Lena.It follows you.Even when you’re not looking.Even when you think you’ve moved past it.And sometimes?Sometimes it just gets easier to stay in the past, to blame things that happened outside of your control instead of moving forward.”

I stare at him, heart racing.“Is that what you think happened to me?”

“Perhaps,” he answers, his voice as smooth as ever, “how did you end up here?I’m curious.It’s not often I see someone with your...drive, but who hasn’t fully realized their potential.”

I swallow hard.He’s prying, dissecting, trying to pull things out of me and he doesn’t care if it’s obvious.

The worst part?I feel like I have to answer.

I take another sip of wine, trying to slow the words that wants to spill out.“I used to be on a different path.I was...in vet school.”The words feel foreign on my tongue, but I push them out.“I was going to be a veterinarian.”

His eyes narrow, the faintest hint of interest flickering there, but he doesn’t speak.Instead, he leans in, waiting for me to continue.

“One night, junior year, I was walking to the laundromat on campus.I was crossing at the crosswalk when some kid, texting while driving, didn’t see me—or the stop sign—until it was too late.”

---