Elara Monroe woke up with the faint hope that maybe, just maybe, yesterday's disasters had been a fluke. Perhaps today would be… tolerable. Perhaps she could make it through the office without spilling coffee on someone, tripping over a printer cord, or having Lucas Hale appear at exactly the worst moment.
She was wrong.
By the time she arrived at the office, she already felt like the universe had conspired against her. Her oversized sweater had somehow shrunk in the wash, giving her shoulders the awkward appearance of a cartoon character, and her hair refused to obey even the simplest of ponytail laws. At least her jeans were still passable. Barely.
Elara took a deep breath and reminded herself: she was here to observe Julian Royce, not impress the office. Disguise, remember. Ordinary girl. Invisible.
Her plans lasted until she bumped into Lucas Hale in the elevator. Of course.
"Good morning," he said, leaning against the wall with that infuriating grin. "Or should I say… good luck?"
Elara rolled her eyes. "Very funny."
Lucas smirked. "I'm just being honest. You're like a walking warning sign."
She groaned and tried to ignore him, pressing the button for the correct floor. Of course, the elevator jolted, causing her to stumble and press every single button in the building. Lucas caught her elbow before she could crash into the metal wall. Sparks—again. Why did her life always feel like it involved sparks when he was around?
"Maybe you should take a course in elevator etiquette," he teased, helping her regain balance.
"Or maybe you should mind your own business," she muttered, cheeks heating.
He chuckled, eyes glinting. "Not a chance."
The moment they stepped into the office, chaos hit immediately. Phones rang nonstop, keyboards clattered, and somewhere, a printer groaned as if warning her not to touch it. Elara navigated to her desk, only to trip over the edge of the carpet. Papers from a nearby coworker scattered like confetti.
Lucas, predictably, was there in a heartbeat. "You're like a hurricane in human form," he said, crouching to help her pick up the mess. Their hands brushed, sending that familiar spark through her chest. She scowled at him, but her stomach betrayed her with an unexpected flutter.
"Thanks," she mumbled, trying not to smile.
"You're welcome," he said, grinning. "But seriously, you might be banned from this office by noon if this keeps up."
Elara focused on blending in for the next few hours. She filed papers, answered phones, and even managed not to spill her coffee on anyone. She was doing well—or so she thought—until Julian Royce appeared at the far end of the office, checking in with his team.
Her heart thumped. Don't get noticed. Don't get noticed.
Lucas, who seemed to have a sixth sense for these things, whispered, "Hide."
Elara ducked behind a filing cabinet just as Julian's gaze swept the room. Lucas peeked around the corner, grinning, and mouthed, "Safe. For now."
She shot him a look that could have melted steel. "You're impossible."
"Completely," he admitted.
By lunch, Elara was feeling a little more confident. She even dared to laugh at Lucas's jokes. But confidence, as she soon discovered, was a dangerous thing. A coffee cart rolled down the hallway just as she turned a corner, and within seconds, she had tripped and sent a tray of mugs flying.
Lucas was there, catching her before she hit the ground, and somehow, a few of the mugs landed perfectly in his hands. He smirked at her, eyes sparkling. "See? This is why you need me around."
Elara groaned. "Or maybe this is why I need a bubble."
The rest of the afternoon was a whirlwind. A minor photocopier explosion left papers sticking to her sweater. A coworker mistook her for someone else, forcing her into an awkward introduction with three different departments. And every time she thought she was safe, Lucas appeared, teasing, rescuing, or simply making her heart skip a beat.
By the time she left the office, Elara was exhausted, frustrated, and—against her better judgment—smiling. Lucas had walked her to the elevator, offering commentary on her "unique ability to turn ordinary tasks into epic events." She wanted to protest, but couldn't help laughing.
"Tomorrow will be better," she said to herself as she stepped onto the cab, replaying the day's disasters.
Lucas's voice followed her, playful and low: "I'm not so sure about that. You seem determined to make chaos your brand."
Elara shivered—not from cold, but from the realization that somehow, amidst all the spills, trips, and disasters, she had started looking forward to seeing him again.