Chapter 1

BRENDA'S POV ✨

There are moments in life you wish you could erase. For me, the moment was a beginning of everything...

Working as a publisher for one of the biggest companies in Washington, D.C. sounds like a dream.

And, honestly, it is.

At least, it would be—if I didn’t have to share my workspace with the biggest asshole I’d ever met.

He has this irritating ability to get under my skin without even trying. The kind of person who can walk into a room and somehow make the entire atmosphere feel uncomfortable. He’s awkward, unpredictable, and completely impossible to figure out.

And unfortunately for me, I see him every single day.

My name is Brenda Morris.

I’m twenty-one years old, and I was raised by a single parent—my mother. She was everything to me. My strength. My sacrifice. The reason I learned early that nothing in life comes easy.

Now, somehow, I’ve found myself working for one of the biggest publishing companies in Washington, D.C.

Some people would call it luck.

I call it a miracle.

Because coming from where I did, I never imagined I’d make it this far.

But I’ve learned something since starting this job.

Sometimes, the thing you prayed for can come wrapped in something you never asked for.

And mine came with him.

The man who has somehow managed to turn my dream job into a daily battle.

The man I absolutely hate.

Or at least…

That’s what I keep telling myself...

Now, back to what I was saying.

At my workplace, every office is designed for two people. The company believes that teamwork makes everything easier—two minds working together, sharing ideas, dividing responsibilities, and getting better results in less time.

My office was no exception.

It was spacious, comfortable, and honestly, more than enough for two people. There was a large desk on either side of the room, two comfortable chairs, a bookshelf filled with manuscripts and files, and a wide window that gave me a perfect view of the busy streets of Washington, D.C.

The only problem?

One of those desks had been empty for six months.

Since the day I started working there, I had been waiting for my supposed teammate to arrive.

And he never did.

At first, I didn't mind.

I actually enjoyed having the entire office to myself. No unnecessary conversations. No distractions. No one touching my things or stealing my coffee.

But after a while, the silence became unbearable.

I had to handle almost everything alone. Every manuscript. Every deadline. Every correction. Every frustrating little problem that came with the job.

There were days I would stare at the second empty chair and wish it could magically come alive.

Not because I needed help.

Okay...

Maybe I did.

But mostly because I needed someone to talk to.

Someone to laugh with.

Someone who could listen when I complained about how exhausting my day had been.

Working alone for six months had taught me something I never thought I'd admit.

An empty office can be incredibly lonely.

I complained about it to my boss more times than I could count.

“Mr. Davies, when exactly are you going to find someone for my office?”

Every time, he gave me the same reassuring smile.

“I'm looking for the right person, Brenda. Be patient.”

The right person.

Those words became almost annoying.

Every week, I reminded him.

Every week, he promised.

And every week, I returned to my empty office.

Until one Monday morning, everything changed.

I walked into the office expecting another boring day.

Instead, I found a small stack of documents sitting neatly on the desk that had been empty for six months.

I froze.

My eyes moved slowly from the documents to the chair,

Then to the nameplate.

There was a name engraved on it.

Oliver Russell.

For a few seconds, I simply stared.

My teammate had finally arrived.

After six months of complaining, waiting, and begging Mr. Davies to give me someone to share the workload with, my wish had finally come true.

At least...

That's what I thought.

Because I had no idea that the person who would be sitting in that chair would soon become the biggest problem in my life.

I had no idea that meeting him would change everything.

And I certainly didn't know that, someday, I would look back at that empty desk and desperately wish it had remained empty forever.

This is a good place to introduce him because we can make the first meeting feel slightly unsettling, rather than simply “handsome guy arrives.” That way, the reader immediately senses that something about him isn't normal.

I was pulled out of my thoughts by a familiar voice “Brenda.”

I blinked and turned around, Lucinda was standing beside my desk, staring at me.

“Huh?” I asked, completely fazed. “What’s up?”

“The boss sent for you.”

My eyebrows furrowed. For a second, my mind raced through every possible thing I could have done wrong. Had I missed a deadline? Made a mistake in one of the manuscripts?

Forgotten to submit a report?

Then my eyes landed on the files sitting on the desk.

The ones that hadn't been there earlier.

My heart gave a little jump.

Oh.

So it was finally happening. I stood up and followed Lucinda toward Mr. Davies' office.

When I reached the door, I knocked twice. “Come in.”

I pushed the door open.

“Sit,” Mr. Davies said, gesturing toward the chair opposite him.

I stepped inside.

And then I saw him.

The man sitting beside my boss.

I stopped.

For some reason, I couldn't explain it, but the moment my eyes landed on him, something inside me shifted.

He was handsome.

Annoyingly handsome.

The kind of handsome that made you wonder whether the person had been specifically designed to make other people uncomfortable.

Dark hair. Sharp features. Calm eyes.

Too calm.

He looked completely relaxed, as though he hadn't just walked into a stranger's office and taken over the empty space that had belonged to me for the past six months.

I slowly sat down.

But I couldn't stop staring.

There was something about him.

Something I couldn't quite put my finger on.

I felt uncomfortable.

Not nervous.

Not shy.

Just...

Uncomfortable.

It was almost as though my instincts were trying to tell me something my brain couldn't understand.

Like I was looking at someone I had met before.

Except I knew I hadn't.

Mr. Davies cleared his throat, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“Brenda, you've been bothering me about getting you a second team member for months now.”

I turned my attention toward him.

“Well...” He smiled proudly and gestured toward the stranger. “I believe I've finally found the right person.”

The man remained silent.

“Allow me to introduce you to your new teammate.”

I glanced at him again.

“He's highly educated, focused, disciplined, and extremely dedicated to his work. From what I've seen, he puts his responsibilities before anything else—including pleasure.”

Mr. Davies said it with such pride that I almost laughed.

Almost.

Instead, I forced a smile.

Then I turned fully toward the stranger.

For the first time, our eyes met.

And something happened.

His expression didn't change.

Not even slightly.

But his eyes...

His eyes were staring directly into mine with an intensity that made my forced smile disappear.

For a brief second, I forgot how to breathe.

Then the corner of his lips lifted.

A faint smile.

Not warm.

Not friendly.

Almost as if he knew something I didn't.

I swallowed.

Great.

Six months of begging for a teammate.

And this was what I got.

I had a terrible feeling I was going to regret this.

Very, very soon.

“Meet Oliver Russell,” Mr. Davies said, gesturing toward the handsome stranger sitting beside him. “Your new office teammate.”

I felt an unexpected wave of happiness wash over me at his words, and for two very good reasons. Firstly, I finally had the teammate I had been begging Mr. Davies for over the past six months. That meant less workload, fewer moments of frustration, and, hopefully, someone I could rely on whenever the pressure became too much. Maybe I wouldn't have to spend my lunch breaks staring at the walls anymore, pretending the silence didn't bother me. Secondly, and I couldn't deny this even to myself, I had a feeling Oliver's presence was going to attract a lot of attention around the office. He was ridiculously handsome, and I was almost certain some of the ladies were going to start finding reasons to pass by my office. At least my boring workplace might finally become entertaining.

“Okay, boss,” I said, although I wasn't entirely sure what I was supposed to do next.

“Show him around,” Mr. Davies instructed.

I nodded, and after a few more words, we were dismissed from his office. The moment we stepped outside, I turned toward Oliver, trying to put on my most welcoming smile. If we were going to be working together, there was no point starting off on the wrong foot. Besides, I had spent six months wishing for this very moment. Surely, I could make an effort to get along with him.

I stretched my hand toward him. “I'm Brenda Morris.”

His eyes dropped to my outstretched hand, but instead of taking it, he stared at it for a moment before slowly lifting his gaze to mine. There was something strangely emotionless about his expression, something that made my smile falter slightly.

“I know.”

I froze.

For a second, I wasn't sure I had heard him correctly. “You... know?”

“I know your name,” he replied casually, as though there was absolutely nothing strange about what he had just said.

My hand slowly fell back to my side, and I forced myself not to let the awkwardness show on my face. I had no idea how he knew my name, but I didn't want to start our first day by bombarding him with questions. Maybe Mr. Davies had mentioned me. Maybe he had seen my name somewhere in the company records. There were plenty of reasonable explanations, and I decided I wasn't going to let my imagination run wild.

I took a quiet breath and put on another smile. “Okay. Let me show you around. It could be fun, you know.”

He frowned slightly, and the expression on his face immediately wiped the excitement from mine.

“I'm not interested,” he said bluntly. “And I know my way around here.”

For a moment, I simply stood there, staring at him.

What?

How was I supposed to respond to that?

I had been prepared to welcome him, show him around, introduce him to everyone, and maybe even make a new friend. Instead, this man had rejected my offer as if I had just asked him to do something completely ridiculous. I felt a strange mixture of embarrassment and irritation settle inside me, and I had to bite back the urge to roll my eyes.

“Right,” I muttered, forcing a smile that I no longer felt. “Of course you do.”

But as I watched him walk away without another word, confusion slowly replaced my irritation. There was something about Oliver Russell that didn't make sense. He had just arrived, yet he already knew his way around the building. He knew my name before I introduced myself. He acted as though he had been working here long before I had even met him, and somehow, that bothered me more than his rude attitude.

I stood there for a moment, watching him disappear down the hallway, my mind running through every possible explanation. Maybe I was overthinking everything. Maybe he had worked here before. Maybe he had visited the company several times. Maybe Mr. Davies had told him everything about the place before bringing him in.

Still, none of those possibilities completely satisfied me.

I sighed and shook my head, trying to push the strange feeling away. I had waited six months for a teammate, and now that I finally had one, I was already questioning his entire existence.

How did this man seem to know everything?

Seriously.

Was he some kind of Noah from the Bible?

Because at this point, I wouldn't have been surprised if he told me he knew when the world was going to end too.

I almost laughed at my own ridiculous thought, but the humor quickly disappeared when I looked at him again.

There was something about Oliver Russell.

Something I couldn't explain.

And deep down, beneath all the confusion and irritation, a small voice inside me kept whispering the same thing.

Be careful, Brenda.

“Okay.” I smiled, trying not to let his earlier attitude get to me. “How about I—”

“Enough!”

His voice cracked through the hallway so sharply that I immediately stopped talking. The smile disappeared from my face, and I stared at him in disbelief. He turned toward me, his expression suddenly hard and impatient, as though my mere presence had become an unbearable inconvenience.

“I’m not interested in your chit-chat, so stop bothering me and stay out of my way.”

For a moment, I couldn't even find the words to respond. I just stood there, my mouth slightly parted as I tried to process what had just happened. Who talks to someone like that? Especially someone they had met less than ten minutes ago? I felt the embarrassment creeping up my neck, quickly followed by anger. I had done absolutely nothing to this man. I had tried to welcome him, offered to show him around, and even attempted to make conversation, yet he had treated me as though I were some annoying stranger who wouldn't leave him alone.

We were already close to our office, so Oliver simply walked ahead of me, opened the door, and stepped inside without another word. He walked straight toward his desk and sat down with such confidence that, for a ridiculous second, I almost wondered if the company had secretly made him the owner while I wasn't looking. The way he settled into that chair made it seem as though he had been sitting there for years, like the entire office belonged to him and the rest of us were merely visitors.

I followed him inside, feeling more like a confused puppy than his supposed teammate. He didn't even spare me a glance.

Unbelievable.

I walked to my desk and sat down, still trying to understand what had just happened. My anger was rising by the second, and I could feel my fingers tightening around the edge of the desk. Who the hell did this guy think he was? Did he honestly believe he owned the company? Was he the manager? The CEO? Maybe even the president of the United States in disguise?

Because the attitude certainly suggested it.

I glanced at him again.

He was already working.

Completely unaffected.

Not even a hint of guilt crossed his face. He didn't seem embarrassed about what he'd said, didn't seem interested in apologizing, and, worst of all, didn't even seem to realize that he had just hurt my feelings.

And that was what bothered me the most.

I wasn't expecting him to fall at my feet or become my best friend. I barely knew the man. But a simple smile wouldn't have killed him, would it? Even a polite hello would have been enough.

Instead, he had left my hand hanging in the air when I introduced myself, rejected my attempt to welcome him, snapped at me when I tried to talk to him, and now he was sitting there as though we had been enemies for years.

What had I possibly done to him?

I found myself staring at him.

Five minutes passed.

Then ten.

Then fifteen.

I should have been working, but I couldn't concentrate. My eyes kept drifting toward him, studying every little movement as though I could somehow find the answer written across his face. There was something incredibly frustrating about him. The more I looked, the more questions appeared.

Who was he?

Why was he so cold?

Why did he already know my name?

And why did I have this strange feeling that his hatred toward me wasn't random?

I leaned back in my chair and narrowed my eyes at him.

“Gosh,” I whispered under my breath. “Who exactly are you, Oliver Russell?”

As if he heard me, his fingers suddenly stopped moving across the keyboard.

My heart skipped.

Slowly, he lifted his head.

And his eyes met mine.

I froze.

For a few seconds, neither of us moved.

Then his lips curved into the faintest smile.

It wasn't warm.

It wasn't friendly.

If anything, it made the uneasy feeling in my stomach grow stronger.

He looked away and continued typing.

I swallowed hard.

Maybe I should have stopped staring.

But something told me I had just made the biggest mistake of my life by agreeing to share an office with him.

I honestly didn't know what to do next or what I was supposed to think about the whole situation. I kept replaying everything that had happened in my head, trying to figure out whether I had somehow offended Oliver without realizing it. Maybe he was simply having a bad day. Maybe he wasn't comfortable around new people. Maybe, because he was new to the company, he just needed some time to settle in. I decided that was probably the best explanation, and for my own peace of mind, I told myself to swallow his rude behavior and move on. After all, I had survived six months of working alone; surely I could survive one difficult teammate.

By the time it was finally time to leave, I felt completely drained. I gathered a few things from my desk and stuffed them into my bag, already thinking about getting home as quickly as possible. I knew my mum would start worrying if I got home late, and knowing her, she'd probably create a hundred different scenarios in her head before I even had the chance to explain why I was late. She worried about things that weren't even worth worrying about sometimes, but I couldn't blame her. She was my mother, and after everything she had sacrificed for me, I knew her worrying was simply another way of loving me.

I walked toward the car park, ready to put the strange day behind me, when I suddenly noticed someone standing a short distance away. Oliver.

He was leaning casually against his car, phone pressed to his ear, and for a moment I almost didn't recognize him. He was laughing. Not the fake little smile people give when they are trying to be polite, but a genuine, carefree laugh that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside him. His entire face looked different. His eyes had softened, his shoulders were relaxed, and there was something almost boyish about the way he laughed.

I stopped for a second, completely confused.

Wait.

Was this actually the same man who had practically yelled at me earlier?

The same man who couldn't even accept my handshake?

The same man who had looked at me as though my attempt at conversation was the most irritating thing he'd experienced all day?

I stared at him for a few seconds longer than I probably should have. Something about seeing him like that unsettled me more than his rudeness had. At least when he was cold, I understood what I was dealing with. But this version of Oliver was different, and somehow, I found myself wondering who was on the other end of that call.

A small part of me wanted to stay and listen.

Another part of me immediately reminded me that I had absolutely no business being interested in his personal life.

So I shook my head and continued walking.

“Awkward as hell,” I muttered under my breath.

Whatever his problem was, it wasn't mine.

At least, that's what I told myself.

I unlocked my car, climbed inside, and started the engine. As I drove out of the parking lot, I caught one last glimpse of him through my rearview mirror. He was still smiling into the phone, looking nothing like the cold, arrogant man I had spent the entire day dealing with.

For some reason, that image stayed in my mind all the way home.

And I hated that it did.

★. ★. ★ .

The next morning, I arrived at work expecting another long and exhausting day, but the moment I stepped into the office, I realized Oliver was already there. He was seated at his desk, completely absorbed in a file in front of him, his attention fixed on the pages as though the rest of the world didn't exist. I hated to admit it, but the man looked ridiculously good that morning. His dark hair was neatly styled, his white shirt fitted perfectly across his broad shoulders, and his tie sat perfectly against his neck. His sleeves were rolled slightly above his wrists, revealing strong forearms, while his sharp jawline and straight nose gave his face a naturally intimidating appearance. There was something almost unfair about how attractive he was, especially when his personality was the complete opposite. If good looks were enough to excuse terrible behavior, Oliver Russell would probably have gotten away with murder.

“Good morning, Mr. Russell,” I greeted, making my way toward my desk.

Nothing.

I sat down and waited for a response, but the man didn't even lift his head. His eyes remained on the file in front of him, his fingers moving calmly as he turned another page.

I frowned.

Maybe he didn't hear me.

I tried again.

“Good morning, Oliver.”

Still nothing.

I waited a few more seconds, staring at him with growing disbelief. Surely he wasn't deliberately ignoring me. Right?

But he didn't move.

At that point, I started feeling nervous for reasons I couldn't explain. My heartbeat quickened slightly, and irritation began replacing the awkwardness. How could someone have so much audacity? I was standing right there, greeting him like a normal human being, and he couldn't even spare me a simple response. It was as though I wasn't even in the room.

Fine.

If he wanted to pretend I didn't exist, then I could do the same.

I turned toward my desk and forced myself to concentrate on my work.

For the next few hours, I buried myself in files, manuscripts, documents, and publishing tasks. I searched through old records, organized documents, reviewed materials, and worked through one assignment after another until my eyes began to ache. Eventually, I realized I needed a little break. Something to clear my head before I completely lost my mind.

Coffee.

That was exactly what I needed.

I walked out and bought two cups.

Why two?

I honestly couldn't explain it.

Maybe because, despite everything, I was still trying to be friendly. Maybe I was hoping that a simple cup of coffee could somehow break the invisible wall between us. Or maybe I was simply being stupidly optimistic.

Whatever the reason, I walked back into the office with both cups in my hands and approached his desk.

“Here,” I said, offering him one. “I got you coffee.”

He finally looked up.

For a second, I thought I had finally gotten through to him.

Then his eyebrows pulled together.

“I'm not interested.”

His words hit me harder than they should have.

It felt like someone had pressed a sharp little pin straight into my chest.

I stared at the cup in my hand, then at him.

I couldn't believe it.

I had spent my own money on that coffee. I had walked all the way out there for him, despite the fact that he had treated me like an inconvenience since the day he arrived, and this was how he chose to respond?

He could have simply said, No, thank you.

That was all.

But apparently, even basic courtesy was too much to ask from Oliver Russell.

A wave of regret rushed through me, followed closely by embarrassment. I hated the fact that I had even tried. I hated that a small part of me had genuinely hoped he would smile, accept the coffee, and maybe say something—anything—that would make me feel like we could actually work together.

Instead, I was standing there feeling foolish.

For the first time since he arrived, I began to regret ever asking Mr. Davies for a teammate.

Maybe working alone hadn't been so bad after all.

At least an empty chair couldn't insult me.

I took the coffee back, staring at Oliver with a mixture of disbelief, irritation, and something dangerously close to hurt. I wasn't going to throw perfectly good coffee away just because this man had apparently forgotten how to behave like a decent human being.

My eyes landed on Sandra, one of my female colleagues.

Perfect.

I walked toward her.

The moment she saw me approaching, her face brightened into a warm smile that immediately made me feel better. Her little gap tooth showed when she smiled, and somehow, I had always thought it added a certain charm to her face.

“Hi, Brenda,” she greeted.

I smiled and held out the cup.

“Coffee?”

Her eyes lit up.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

She took it from me with a grateful smile. “Thanks!”

I nodded, relieved.

At least my money hadn't gone to waste.

We spent a few minutes talking and laughing, and by the time I returned to my office, I was smiling again. Sandra had that effect on people. She was warm, funny, and easy to talk to—the complete opposite of the human headache sitting at the other desk.

Then I walked into the office.

My smile disappeared.

Oliver was still there.

Of course he was.

For one brief second, I imagined walking over to him and grabbing him by the neck.

Just a little.

Nothing serious.

Okay, maybe that was dramatic.

But he was beginning to test my patience.

I sighed and returned to my desk.

I couldn't understand how my own office teammate could go an entire day without properly speaking to me. He behaved as though I were some invisible ghost haunting the room.

And then I caught myself.

Who would want to talk to a ghost anyway?

I rolled my eyes at my own stupidity.

At first, I had taken his behavior personally. I thought maybe he disliked me. Maybe I had done something without realizing it. But eventually, I decided to let the sleeping dog lie. If Oliver wanted to be distant, fine. I wasn't going to chase after him anymore.

Still, I couldn't help noticing things about him.

Every single day, he seemed to dress almost exactly the same way. Trousers. Shirt. Tie. Always neat. Always perfectly put together. It was almost as though he had his own personal uniform that he refused to break.

I found myself watching him sometimes without meaning to.

And what frustrated me most was that Oliver wasn't actually antisocial.

Not even close.

Outside our office, he was a completely different person.

He spoke to people.

He laughed with them.

He smiled.

He joked.

People liked him.

Almost everyone in the company seemed to have a soft spot for him.

And that made me wonder.

What was wrong with me?

Why could he laugh with everyone except me?

Why could he be charming and pleasant with everyone else, yet the moment we stepped into our office, his entire personality changed?

I used to ask myself, What's wrong with Oliver?

Now my question had changed.

What's wrong with me?

And the worst part was that I didn't have an answer.

How could I possibly figure it out when the person causing the confusion wouldn't even talk to me?

Working with Oliver was beginning to feel like trading places with the devil himself. You could never tell when he would strike, what would annoy him next, or what version of him you were going to meet.

Eventually, though, the silence seemed to wear him down.

He started talking to me.

Unfortunately, that didn't make things better.

It made them worse.

Because Oliver suddenly seemed determined to find fault with everything I did.

The way I worked.

The way I organized my files.

The way I arranged documents on my desk.

Even the smallest things somehow became problems in his eyes.

Sometimes I would sit there listening to him criticize something I had done, wondering if he woke up every morning specifically looking for new ways to irritate me.

And whenever I helped him with a major publishing project, he never said thank you.

Not once.

Those projects weren't easy. They required hours of painstaking work, patience, strength, and sometimes sleepless nights. Yet whenever I stayed behind to help him meet a deadline, he acted as though my effort was simply part of my job.

But when I needed help?

Suddenly, Oliver Russell had a thousand reasons why he couldn't assist me.

“I have something else to finish.”

“I'm busy.”

“Figure it out yourself.”

Always another excuse.

Always another reason.

And every single time, I swallowed my anger and went back to work.

But deep down, something was changing.

I was no longer simply annoyed by Oliver.

I was becoming determined to understand him.

Because there had to be a reason for the way he treated me.

There had to be a reason why the man who could laugh with everyone else suddenly became cold the moment he was alone with me.

And I was going to find out what it was.

This is a great point to deepen Brenda's frustration and isolation. The contrast between how everyone sees Oliver and how Brenda experiences him can make readers start wondering whether Oliver deliberately behaves differently around her—and why. I'll also make Leslie's conversation feel more natural and let Brenda's internal thoughts carry more emotional weight.

This was my third week of working with the most annoying human being I had ever encountered, and somehow, it already felt like I had been enduring him for years. Three weeks. Just three weeks, yet every morning I walked into that office with the same feeling of dread, knowing I would have to spend another eight hours under the same roof with Oliver Russell. What made it worse was the fact that everyone around me seemed to adore him. Everywhere I turned, someone had something good to say about him. He was hardworking. He was intelligent. He was respectful. He was handsome. He was apparently everything a perfect employee should be. Everyone saw an amazing man, while I saw a walking headache in expensive shirts and perfectly arranged ties. Sometimes I genuinely wondered if I was the only person who had been given the privilege—or punishment—of meeting the real Oliver.

They didn't know what it was like to work with him.

They didn't feel the tension that filled our office whenever the two of us were alone. They didn't know what it was like to ask him a simple question and receive a response that could make you regret opening your mouth in the first place. They didn't know how exhausting it was to sit across from someone who could laugh freely with everyone else but somehow became cold and distant whenever I was around.

For everyone else, having Oliver as a colleague seemed like a blessing.

For me, it felt like a punishment.

Some of my female colleagues had even started coming to me with ridiculous questions. They wanted to know if Oliver was single. They wanted his contact. They wanted to know what kind of woman he liked. Some of them didn't even bother pretending to be subtle; they would spend several minutes talking about how handsome he was, how attractive his voice sounded, or how lucky I was to share an office with him.

Lucky?

If only they knew.

After several exhausting hours of work that afternoon, I decided I needed to step outside for some fresh air. Normally, I would leave the office simply to relax, but lately, it had become something closer to survival. Staying under the same roof with Oliver for too long made me feel like I couldn't breathe properly. I needed a few minutes away from his silence, his cold expressions, and that irritating presence that somehow managed to occupy every corner of the room even when he wasn't speaking.

I stepped outside and took a deep breath, allowing the fresh air to fill my lungs. For the first time that day, my shoulders relaxed.

“Hey, Brenda!”

I heard someone call my name and turned around.

A smile immediately appeared on my face when I saw Leslie approaching.

“Hi, Leslie. How are you?”

“I'm good, thanks.” She smiled brightly. “And you?”

“Well, I've just been working too much lately,” I replied with a tired shrug.

Leslie smiled and gave me a little wink.

I frowned.

That wink immediately made me suspicious.

“What?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“I can see that,” she replied, looking me over. “One can hardly not notice it in this company. And perhaps work gets easier and more enjoyable when you have a great, hardworking office teammate like Mr. Russell.”

I almost choked.

I let out a small chuckle, pretending not to understand who she was talking about.

“Which Mr. Russell?”

Leslie stared at me for a second before bursting into laughter.

“Oliver Russell, of course!” she exclaimed. “The cute, handsome guy in your office. Brenda, to tell you the truth, you are very lucky.”

“Ahhh... hmm, really?”

I forced the words out while desperately trying to keep my expression neutral.

Inside, however, I was screaming.

Lucky?

If only I could tell her what actually happened behind that office door.

I wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her until she understood that the man she was describing as hardworking and wonderful was the same man who could make my blood boil before nine in the morning. I wanted to tell her about the countless times he had dismissed me, criticized the way I worked, refused to help me, and acted as though acknowledging my existence was some great burden.

But what would be the point?

Who would believe me?

Everyone had already made up their minds about Oliver.

He was the perfect coworker.

The intelligent gentleman.

The handsome, hardworking man everyone admired.

And I was beginning to realize that if I told them what he was really like around me, they would probably laugh and assume I was exaggerating.

After all, how could a man who smiled so warmly at everyone else possibly be the same cold, arrogant man I dealt with every single day?

I sighed quietly.

“Yeah,” I muttered. “I'm very lucky.”

The sarcasm in my voice was so thick that even I could taste it.

Leslie didn't seem to notice.

She continued talking about Oliver, praising his work ethic and practically glowing whenever she mentioned his name. I listened, forcing myself to smile, but every word only made my frustration grow.

I didn't blame her.

She hadn't experienced him the way I had.

Neither had the others.

They had only seen the version of Oliver he allowed them to see.

I, unfortunately, had gotten the other version.

The real one.

At least, that's what I thought.

Because there was something I still couldn't explain.

Why me?

Why did Oliver speak to everyone else with such ease but treat me like I was an irritation he couldn't get rid of?

Why did he laugh with them but barely smile at me?

Why did everyone else get the charming, respectful Oliver while I got the cold, arrogant one?