Chapter 2 — Back to Business
Third Person
Daphneia Harris strode into her office with the same composure she had clung to in the elevator. The PR division was a symphony of muted activity—keyboards clacking, voices murmuring into phones, and the occasional ping of email notifications punctuating the air. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city sparkled under the morning sun, a sharp contrast to the sleek, controlled environment inside. Yet, Daphneia’s focus remained firmly on the now.
She placed her leather portfolio on her desk, running her thumb along its edge in a gesture of habit and grounding. The elevator incident lingered in her thoughts like a faint echo, no matter how much she willed herself to dismiss it during the drive to work. Elijah Osoro’s presence was hard to ignore—his deliberate movements, his measured words, and the way his hazel eyes seemed to cut through surfaces, through people. It wasn’t just what he said; it was the weight of it, the way it hinted at something deeper beneath his impeccably composed exterior. And the way he had looked at her—sharp, assessing—it lingered in her thoughts like the faint ticking of his mechanical watch.
“Focus,” she muttered under her breath, trying to shake off the thoughts. Today wasn’t about enigmatic CEOs or fleeting moments of connection. Today was about executing the proposal she had spent weeks perfecting.
The sound of approaching footsteps pulled her from her thoughts just before the familiar voice rang out.
“Good morning, boss lady.”
Daphneia glanced up to see Seong Kim leaning casually against the frame of her office door, arms crossed and an easy smile lighting up his face. His pocket square—a burst of crimson patterned with stylized leaves—was a flamboyant contrast to the muted tones of his blazer.
“Seong,” she greeted with a small smile. “Morning.”
“You missed all the excitement down here,” he said, stepping inside and settling into the chair opposite her desk without so much as asking for permission. “Word is, you had a little impromptu one-on-one with Mr. Osoro himself. An elevator? Bold choice for networking.”
Daphneia rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched with the beginnings of a smirk. “Please don’t tell me this is already a topic of conversation.”
“Of course it is! You and the King of Precision trapped together in a glass box? That’s the kind of corporate gossip that practically writes itself.”
Her smirk faded quickly. “Great. Just what I needed—more unnecessary attention.”
Seong leaned forward, resting his chin on one hand and studying her with exaggerated curiosity. “Okay, spill. How was it? Did he recite the quarterly earnings report to pass the time? Or was it all... icy stares and deathly silence?”
She hesitated, the faintest flicker of Elijah’s voice slipping into her mind. Responsibility can feel like a cage sometimes. It wasn’t the kind of thing she wanted to analyze out loud—not now, and especially not with Seong.
“We talked,” she said simply, keeping her tone light as she folded her hands on the desk. “Nothing groundbreaking. Just... professional.”
Seong arched an eyebrow, his expression growing sly. “Professional, huh? If anyone else told me that, I’d believe them. But you? I feel like there’s more to this story.”
“Seong, I swear—”
“Relax, relax.” He raised both hands in mock surrender, but the mischief in his eyes didn’t waver. “I’ll stop prying. But if you ever want to spill the tea, you know where to find me.”
“Noted.”
Standing, Seong straightened his blazer with exaggerated precision. “Anyway, I just wanted to check in. I’ll let you get back to your spreadsheets—or your introspective fantasies about our fearless leader.”
“Seong.” Her tone carried the faintest edge of warning, but he only laughed, his footsteps fading into the low hum of the office.
Alone again, Daphneia exhaled slowly and opened her portfolio. The familiar scent of leather and paper greeted her, steadying her focus. This was her domain—the sharp balance between strategy and creativity, where her work could speak louder than any gossip. The proposal for the Entertainment division’s new PR strategy had been tailored with painstaking care, designed to seamlessly bridge the corporate and creative demands of their high-profile clients.
The faint chime of her email broke through her thoughts. She glanced at the screen, her pulse quickening slightly when she saw the sender’s name.
_E. Osoro._
For a moment, she hesitated, her finger hovering over the mouse. It wasn’t like her to get rattled, certainly not over an email, but she couldn’t quite shake the memory of the elevator—his gaze, his words, the way his presence had unnerved her equilibrium.
She clicked the email open, her eyes scanning the brief, efficient message.
Subject: Feedback Request
_Harris,_
_Your proposal has been forwarded to my office. I will review it by the end of the day and expect to discuss it in further detail tomorrow morning._
_E. Osoro_
Daphneia leaned back in her chair, drumming her fingers lightly against the desk. His tone was as precise as she expected—direct, professional, and stripped of any warmth. Entirely predictable. Yet, a part of her couldn’t help wondering if his decision to review her work personally was purely procedural. The memory of his sharp, assessing gaze returned, unbidden. What had he seen? What had he decided?
“Focus,” she muttered again, shaking herself free of the thought.
The rest of the day whirred past in a blur of meetings, emails, and strategy calls. By the time most of the office began to empty, she was deeply entrenched in her work, fine-tuning the final details of her presentation. Every element needed to be airtight because this wasn’t just about impressing Elijah Osoro. It was about proving—to herself and to everyone else—that she belonged here.
As she slipped the last file back into her portfolio and prepared to leave, she heard footsteps again. Seong appeared in her doorway, this time without his usual fanfare.
“Still here?” he asked, tilting his head.
“Not for much longer,” she replied, sliding her chair back and standing. She tucked her portfolio carefully into her bag, her movements deliberate, methodical.
“Good.” His tone softened. “You deserve a break. And hey—just so you know, you’ve got this. Whatever Osoro throws your way, you’ll handle it like the boss you are.”
For the first time that day, warmth flickered in her chest. “Thanks, Seong.”
“Anytime.” He gave her an exaggerated bow before disappearing into the elevators.
The office was nearly silent now, the hum of the city beyond the windows taking on a softer tone as twilight settled in. Daphneia allowed herself a moment of stillness, her thoughts briefly flickering back to the day’s chaos—and the man who had so unexpectedly complicated it.
She knew better than to dwell on Elijah Osoro. He was her boss, her obstacle, and perhaps—if she played her cards right—a potential ally. Nothing more.
Still, as she stepped into the elevator and descended toward the dimly lit lobby, she couldn’t shake the faintest ripple of anticipation for what tomorrow might bring.
