Chapter 8 He ruins everything he touches

~008

Crossing Lines, Quietly

---

The day of the strategy presentation arrived faster than Bella expected.

She hadn't slept much the night before. Between revising her slides, rehearsing in front of the mirror, and wondering if Xavier would even look at her during the meeting, she'd barely closed her eyes.

Now, standing in front of a long glass table filled with executive directors, she felt the heat of every gaze resting on her shoulders.

Her heart pounded.

She glanced up-Xavier was seated at the far end, expression unreadable, fingers steepled in front of his face.

He hadn't spoken to her since that moment in the conference room days ago. But he hadn't needed to. His silence still felt intimate. Electric.

Bella inhaled quietly and began.

Her voice was steady. Her ideas were clear. She broke down the capsule collection's theme, the environmental sourcing, the urban inspiration. The room remained silent-but not bored. Engaged. Curious. Even impressed.

When she finished, there was a beat of stillness.

Then Clara nodded, followed by a few polite claps from the senior team. Xavier didn't clap.

But he said, "Brilliantly executed. We'll move forward with your concept."

Bella blinked.

That was it?

No follow-up. No praise. No subtle look that lingered too long?

She sat down, her chest tightening.

Had she misread him?

Or was this what professionalism looked like from now on?

---

An hour later, as she packed up her tablet, she received a single message notification:

> Xavier Louis

Be in my office. 8:30 p.m. sharp. Alone.

Her breath caught.

There was no explanation. No subject line. Just the order.

Her fingers hovered over the screen, considering how dangerous this could be.

But she typed back anyway:

> Understood.

---

The office was quiet after hours. Most lights dimmed, most staff gone. Bella's heels echoed in the marble hallway as she approached the door to Xavier's office, her reflection trailing behind her in the black glass.

She hesitated only once before knocking.

"Come in," came his voice.

She pushed the door open slowly.

Xavier stood at the bar in the corner, pouring two glasses of whiskey. The city glittered behind him, Paris alive and untouchable.

He turned and handed her a glass.

"No agenda," he said. "No traps."

Bella took it, but didn't drink.

"Why am I here?"

"Because I wanted to say something without everyone watching," he replied, returning to his desk but not sitting. "Your presentation was excellent. You were composed. Creative. Strategic."

"You could've said that in an email."

"I could have," he admitted. "But then I wouldn't get to see the fire in your eyes up close."

She exhaled. "You said you wouldn't pursue this."

"I'm not."

"Then what is this?"

"A reminder," he said, stepping closer. "That I haven't forgotten what it felt like to be near you."

Bella's glass remained untouched in her hand. "You're crossing a line."

Xavier's voice was quiet. "So tell me to stop."

She opened her mouth-but nothing came out.

Because part of her didn't want him to stop.

Not yet.

He took the glass from her hand and set it on the table between them. Then, without touching her, he whispered, "I'll wait as long as it takes. But just know-if you ever ask me to kiss you again... I won't hesitate."

Bella's breath hitched.

She turned, leaving quickly, heels clicking down the hall like a thunderstorm building.

She didn't look back.

But neither did he stop watching.

---

The next morning was worse.

Everyone buzzed about the successful presentation. Emails flooded in. Her name popped up in conversations she wasn't even in. But beneath the praise was an undercurrent she couldn't ignore: eyes watching her longer than necessary. Hushed voices when she walked by.

And then there was Camille.

Again.

"Big night?" she asked sweetly by the espresso machine. "You looked exhausted this morning."

Bella didn't flinch. "Guess I've been working."

Camille's smile was feline. "So have I. Which is why I was surprised when your pitch got greenlit over mine."

Bella froze.

Camille leaned closer, her voice lower now.

"Don't think I haven't noticed, Bluefield. First the Valentino brief, now the capsule pitch? You're moving up too fast. And men like Xavier Louis never do things without expecting something in return."

Bella's jaw clenched. "Is that what your career's based on? Expectations from men?"

Camille's smile vanished for a second. "You're clever, but not clever enough to survive in this world by being noble. Sooner or later, you'll realize how dangerous it is to be favored. And when you fall-because you will-no one will catch you."

Bella didn't answer.

Because a seed of doubt had already been planted.

And it was growing.

---

That night, Bella opened her apartment door to find a small envelope waiting on the floor. No stamp. No name.

She picked it up, heart racing, and unfolded the crisp paper.

There were only five words.

> He ruins everything he touches.

No signature.

No context.

Just those words-dark, final, and sharp enough to wound.

Bella stared at the note, her mind spiraling.

Had someone seen her go into his office?

Was it Camille?

Was it someone else?

She dropped the paper on her coffee table and sank into her couch.

She should walk away.

She should quit.

She should run far from Xavier Louis and everything he represented.

But instead...

She reached for her phone.

And typed out a message.

> We need to talk. Tomorrow. Somewhere away from the office.

She didn't sign it.

But he would know it was her.

And if she was right about him... he'd show up.