Chapter 5: Confronting the Owner

The revelation about "Grant Alexander Sterling" hit me with the force of a tidal wave. The self-consciousness I felt was immediate and overwhelming. Every casual interaction I'd had with him, every word exchanged, replayed in my mind through a new, mortifying lens.

I'd called him "Grant." I'd prattled on about my family, my financial struggles. I'd critiqued his advice in my head before realizing its brilliance. The sheer audacity of my ignorance made my cheeks burn whenever I thought about it.

For the next few days, I was a coiled spring. I moved through the office with a new level of hyper-awareness, my senses on high alert. Every casual glance from a colleague, every unexpected shadow in my periphery, sent a jolt of anxiety through me.

I found myself instinctively scanning hallways before stepping into them, peeking around cubicle corners, and even holding my breath when I heard footsteps approaching from behind. I was terrified of another accidental encounter, especially now that I knew who he really was.

My usual confident stride became a hesitant shuffle. My focus, once sharp, was now fragmented, constantly pulled away by the fear of a looming, brooding figure in the distance. Even my interactions with Stella, while still friendly, were tinged with this new anxiety. I wanted to ask her more about him, about his habits, his schedule, but I couldn't bring myself to. It felt like admitting to a massive faux pas.

I tried to rationalize it. He was pretending to be a regular employee, right? So, my treating him as such was perfectly in line with his own objective. But the logical part of my brain was drowned out by the mortified, embarrassed part.

One particularly stressful afternoon, I was struggling with a complex set of pivot tables in Excel. The numbers just weren't aligning, and the looming deadline felt like a physical weight on my chest. I sighed, leaning back, running a hand through my hair. My brain felt fried.

"Having trouble with those figures, Ms. Alonzo?"

The voice, deep and smooth, cut through the quiet hum of the office. My breath hitched. It was him. Grant.

I froze, my heart doing a frantic drum solo against my ribs. Slowly, reluctantly, I turned my head. He was standing there, leaning against the cubicle wall, just as before, but this time, the sight of him sent a fresh wave of panic through me.

He was dressed in a dark, form-fitting long-sleeved shirt that subtly emphasized his muscular build, and dark trousers. His hair was still a little disheveled, but those intense gray eyes were as piercing as ever, and a faint, knowing smirk played on his lips. He knew. He absolutely knew that I knew.

My throat felt like sandpaper. "Mr. Sterling," I managed to croak out, the formality tasting strange on my tongue after calling him "Grant" so casually before. I immediately regretted it. The slight stiffening of his posture, the almost imperceptible narrowing of his eyes, confirmed my blunder. He hadn't introduced himself with his last name, specifically so people wouldn't treat him like the owner. And here I was, doing exactly that.

"Mr. Sterling?" he repeated, his voice laced with amusement, an eyebrow slowly rising. "Such formality, Gabriella. Did something change since our last chat in the archives? Or since you were slaving away in here late into the night?"

My cheeks flushed scarlet. He remembered. He remembered everything. My rambling about my family, my vulnerable admissions. And he'd been watching me that night. How much did he watch? How much did he know?

"I... I just," I stammered, my mind racing for an excuse. "I just realized who you were. My colleague, Stella, she... she mentioned your name."

He pushed off the wall and stepped into my cubicle, a surprisingly intimate invasion of my small workspace. The air around him seemed to crackle with an unspoken energy. He leaned over my desk, his gaze dropping to my screen, then back to my face. His proximity was overwhelming, that masculine scent, a mix of subtle cologne and something inherently him, filling my senses.

"And knowing my name changes things?" His voice was low, almost a challenge. "Does the advice I gave you suddenly become less valid because you know my title? Does your admirable dedication to your family suddenly become less admirable?"

His words hit me like a splash of cold water, mixed with a healthy dose of heat. He wasn't upset, not exactly. He was… testing me. Or perhaps, reminding me that the man he was, was the same man I had spoken to before.

"No, of course not, Mr. Sterling," I said, my voice gaining a little more strength, though my heart still hammered. "Your advice was incredibly helpful, and I'm grateful. It's just... it's a bit of a shock, that's all. To realize I was speaking so informally with the owner of Sterling Innovations."

He straightened up slightly, a small, knowing smile touching his lips. It wasn't the playful smirk from before, but something more genuine, almost warm. "I prefer to observe, Gabriella. To see how people truly are, unburdened by the weight of titles. And you, Ms. Alonzo, were refreshingly candid. I appreciated that." He paused, his gaze lingering on my eyes. "So, about those pivot tables. Still giving you trouble?"

My eyes flicked to the screen, then back to him. The sudden shift in topic was jarring, yet comforting. He was back to being the helpful, observant Grant.

"Yes, sir," I said, trying to regain my composure. "I'm having trouble linking the third data set without creating circular references."

He leaned in again, his arm brushing mine as he pointed to a section of the spreadsheet. His touch sent a shiver down my spine. "Here. You're overcomplicating the formula. Try nesting the VLOOKUP function within an IF statement, and create a helper column for your unique identifiers in the third set. It'll streamline the data flow."

As he spoke, his voice was close, a low rumble against my ear. His fingers, long and strong, hovered near the keyboard, almost urging me to try. My brain, despite the sudden flush of heat that had spread through me, quickly grasped the logic of his suggestion. It was elegant, efficient. Exactly the kind of solution I needed.

"Oh! Of course!" I exclaimed, feeling a fresh wave of admiration. "That's brilliant, thank you!"

He pulled back, a faint smile on his face. "Just a different perspective. And Gabriella?" His eyes held mine, an intense, almost predatory gleam in their depths. "Let's stick to Grant. 'Mr. Sterling' feels... distant. And frankly, a little dull."

My heart pounded. He was inviting, no, commanding me, to continue our informal relationship. A thrill, dangerous and exhilarating, shot through me. This was certainly not what I expected from the brooding CEO.

"Grant," I repeated, the name feeling both intimate and scandalous on my tongue. "Thank you. For everything."

He nodded once, his gaze unwavering, before turning and walking away, leaving me alone in the suddenly charged silence of my cubicle, my fingers hovering over the keyboard, my mind reeling.

The fear was still there, but now it was mixed with an intoxicating cocktail of excitement and sheer, unadulterated curiosity. Grant Alexander Sterling was far more complex, and far more dangerous, than I had ever imagined.

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To be continued...

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