Drawing The Line

Matt's POV

The moment Evelyn left my office, I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my temples. The tension in my chest hadn't eased. If anything, it had only gotten worse. Dylan's words kept replaying in my head.

"She feels different."

"I like her."

I scoffed under my breath, shaking my head. He had no idea what he was talking about. He didn't know her, didn't know the history, the pain, the betrayal that lingered between us like a ghost. And yet, there she was, smiling, laughing, letting him touch her, as if she hadn't spent years hating me for leaving her behind.

The anger inside me flared again.

Before I could stop myself, I picked up the phone and pressed the intercom button.

"Racheal, my office. Now."

I didn't wait for a response. Didn't give myself a second to think about why I was doing this. All I knew was that she was getting too comfortable here and that she needed to understand her place.

---

The door opened a few moments later, and she walked in.

Racheal Evans.

The woman who had been buried in my past. The woman who was now standing in front of me, looking at me with quiet defiance. She was still catching her breath, probably from rushing to my office, but she quickly straightened her posture, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"You called for me, sir?" she asked, her voice calm but professional.

Something about her tone, so polite, so controlled, and it irritated me even more.

I narrowed my eyes.

"You've been here for what, a week?" I said coldly, leaning forward. "And you're already treating this place like your own personal dating pool."

Her brows knitted together. "I... I don't understand."

I scoffed. "Oh, don't play dumb, Racheal. I saw you with Dylan."

Her lips parted slightly, clearly taken aback.

"You think I don't know how women like you operate?" I continued, my voice dripping with mockery. "You see a rich man, and suddenly, you're all smiles, all giggles, letting him touch you like you've known him forever."

Racheal's face hardened. "I wasn't..."

"I don't want to hear it." I cut her off, standing up from my chair. "This is a workplace, not a dating show. If you want to throw yourself at men, do it outside this building."

Her eyes widened slightly, hurt flashing across her face, but she quickly masked it. "I wasn't throwing myself at anyone."

I let out a humorless laugh. "Right. Because you just accidentally ended up in Dylan's arms, laughing like he was the best thing that ever happened to you."

She swallowed, her fingers twitching slightly at her sides.

I circled around my desk, stopping a few feet in front of her. "Let me make something clear, Racheal. You don't belong here." I let my eyes drag over her, deliberately slow. "You don't even look like you belong here."

She stiffened.

I smirked. "Do you really think you fit in with the kind of women who work here? With their designer clothes, their polished looks, their class?"

Her jaw clenched.

She wasn't saying anything. But I could see it, the hurt she was trying so hard to hide. And for some reason, that just made me angrier.

Angrier that she had come back into my life, and that she still had an effect on me.

"Face it, Racheal," I said coldly. "You took this job because it was your only option. You took this job because you're struggling. And now, you're setting your sights on Dylan because you know he can give you an easy way out."

Her hands balled into fists. "That's not true."

I chuckled darkly. "Isn't it?"

She opened her mouth to say something, but I didn't give her the chance. I turned away and walked back to my desk, grabbing a random file.

"Here." I tossed it onto the table next to her. "Take this to the finance department and get the numbers cross-checked. I want it back in fifteen minutes."

She blinked. "But... that's not my department."

I met her eyes, my expression hard. "Did I ask for your opinion?"

She quickly shook her head. "No, sir."

"Then do it," I said coldly. "Or you're out of here."

She pressed her lips together and then nodded stiffly. "Understood."

She picked up the file and walked out, her shoulders tense, her steps quick.

And the moment the door shut behind her, I let out a long, slow breath.

I ran a hand over my face, shaking my head. I had no idea why I was acting like this. Maybe because it was easier to hate her than to admit that seeing her with Dylan made me feel like I was losing something all over again. Maybe because I was a coward. Or maybe because... If I let her get close again, I wouldn't survive it.

---

Fifteen minutes passed, and I barely looked away from the clock. I hadn't expected Racheal to get the task done in time. Hell, I'd half expected her to come back with some excuse, some desperate plea for an extension or an apology for not knowing what to do.

Instead, right as the minute hand struck the deadline, there was a knock at my door. I already knew who it was.

"Come in," I said flatly, masking the slight curiosity brewing inside me.

Racheal walked in, file in her hand. Her posture was stiff, her expression carefully blank. I leaned back in my chair, watching as she approached my desk and set the file down neatly in front of me.

"It's done," she said, her voice professional but slightly clipped.

I said nothing at first, flipping open the file to glance through it. I had expected errors, miscalculations, incorrect formatting, or something to point out so I could call her out on her incompetence. But to my annoyance, everything was perfect. Every figure cross-checked. Every detail aligned. Every note written clearly.

I snapped the file shut, lifting my gaze to her. She was standing there, waiting, her chin slightly raised.

She knew she'd done well. She also knew I wasn't going to acknowledge it.

Good.

Because I wouldn't.

Instead, I steepled my fingers together and regarded her coldly. "You did as you were told. That's the bare minimum I expect from you, Evans."

Her expression didn't waver, but I caught the slight flicker in her eyes.

I leaned forward slightly, lowering my voice. "Now, let's get one thing straight."

She didn't move, but I saw the way she tensed.

"You're here to work. Nothing more. I don't want to see you distracted. I don't want to see you giggling in the hallways, and most importantly," I narrowed my eyes, my voice turning sharp. "I don't want to see you anywhere near Dylan."

She blinked, clearly caught off guard. "What?"

I exhaled impatiently, leaning back in my chair. "Did I stutter?"

Her hands clenched at her sides. 'I don't understand why..."

"You don't need to understand," I cut in. "You just need to listen."

She swallowed, her expression unreadable. "So, you're telling me I can't even talk to him?"

"That's exactly what I'm telling you."

She scoffed lightly, shaking her head. "This is ridiculous."

I leaned forward again, my eyes locking onto hers. "I don't care what you think. You will stay away from Dylan, and on no account should I ever catch you talking to him or even looking at him."

Her lips parted slightly, and for a second, she just stared at me.

Then, something shifted in her expression, something unreadable, something almost... resentful. But she didn't argue, didn't fight back. Instead, she took a slow breath, straightened her shoulders, and nodded. "Understood."

I smirked slightly, though there was no humor in it. "Good. Now get out of my office."

She hesitated for only a fraction of a second before turning on her heel and walking toward the door.

The moment she stepped out and shut it behind her, I let out a slow breath, rubbing a hand over my face. I had no idea why I was doing this. No idea why I felt this overwhelming need to push her away. All I knew was that I wasn't about to let history repeat itself. Not with her, not again.