The short distance from my desk to Noah’s office almost felt like a walk of shame. I was surprised at myself. In the past three days, I’d found more reasons to be embarrassed and flustered than in my entire three years at this office. I hoped all the blushing was just a side-effect of being so close to Noah. Because I couldn’t afford whatever disease it might be a symptom of. 

Pasting on a professional smile, I pretended I hadn’t been looking like I wanted to murder him and opened the door. Thankfully, Noah wasn’t alone. Patrick—to no one’s surprise—was busy arranging the files and cleaning the table. We had a nickname for him in the company, Neatrick. As the secretary, he didn’t have to, but there was no spot in the office that he hadn't inspected and polished to perfection. 

“Ms. Rose,” Noah greeted, ignoring Patrick as he sanitized the table. “Transfer any calls from Mr. Carter to my phone. He just signed with us, so he is our top priority.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied, a little relieved that he didn’t bring up the minor episode outside.

“Also,” he started and then paused. He looked at Patrick and said, “Can you please leave?”

I raised my eyebrows in disbelief. Patrick was Noah’s shadow. There was nothing he hadn’t heard or seen. And Noah had certainly never asked him to leave. 

When I stayed put, Patrick looked up, smiled at me, and said, “He has dismissed you, Ms. Rose.”

I opened and then closed my mouth. Oh boy, this isn’t going to go well.

Noah cleared his throat and said, “No, I meant you, Mr. Smith.” 

Patrick looked as if someone had asked him to use a dirty public bathroom. He pointed at himself. Noah nodded. He pursed his lips in displeasure. Slowly gathering his cleaning kit, he shot me a glare and stalked out of the room. The door closed with a bang, and I winced. 

Noah and I were left alone.

This wouldn’t have been a big issue. But to think that the CEO kicked out his secretary so he could be alone with his receptionist… I could almost feel the wheels churning inside everyone’s heads. I felt numerous pairs of eyes shooting lasers at my back and wiggled uncomfortably. Hoping it was my imagination, I asked, “Why did you ask Mr. Smith to leave, sir?”

Noah swiveled his chair to look out of the window. “To discuss our next swimming appointment.” He turned back, and with a teasing look in his eyes, asked, “Or would you rather everyone know you have a second job?”

Was he trying to get me fired? Oh wait, he was the one who had hired me! Unable to understand what he wanted, I watched his face. Why did he look so eager to know my answer? I sighed and shook my head. “No.”

“Good. Then it should remain between the two of us.” Noah relaxed. “Let’s practice again tonight.”

“Okay.” I eyed the glass wall behind me—expecting everyone to be watching us with their noses pressed against it—but found it empty. Still wary of baseless rumors, I added, “Also, sir, you can just text me next time.”

“Why would I do that?” Noah tilted his head in confusion. “You sit right outside my office.”

Before I could explain why, the door opened behind me. A shiver ran down my spine—as if my body could recognize the powerful aura, and I turned to see the person. Charles Jung, ex-CEO of The Jung Group and Noah’s uncle, stepped in. Even though he was over sixty, his eyes were still sharp and his body language still authoritative.

“Good morning, sir,” I said. 

Hands behind his back, he walked past me without a glance. Noah stood up to greet him. Charles ignored his greeting too, and spat, “Fire that person!”

Startled by his words, I looked at Noah. There was no change in his expression as he asked his uncle, “Who?”

“He just came in for work!” Charles growled. “Look at the time! Is this how the company works now?”

I looked outside and saw Henry clocking in for work. Shit. Talk about bad timing. Noah didn’t bat an eye and said, “I’ll seek to reprimand him. Rest assured, sir.”

That seemed to satisfy his uncle. Feeling out of place in the room, I dismissed myself. I was almost out of the door when I heard Charles ask, “How is your swimming practice going? Did you find an instructor?”

My steps faltered, and I turned to see Noah’s face. He looked past his uncle, right at me, and said, “I found someone.”

I relaxed when Noah didn’t reveal it was me. With no excuse to stand there like a mannequin, I hurried outside. The door closed behind me and shut me off from their conversation.

Back in my seat, my thoughts toppled over each other like zombies in a frenzy. One thing I decided was that I had to stay out of Charles’ way. If he found out that I was working two jobs… It didn’t matter that his nephew had hired me. He still had a ton of influence here, so he would fire me anyway. And after the last-minute resignation at the public pool, there was no guarantee that even they would hire me to teach again.

Second, I had a nagging suspicion that Charles was pressuring Noah to learn how to swim. But why? He should know that his nephew was afraid of water. 

The answer popped up just as I asked myself the question. Of course Charles would do that.

If there was one vulnerability that Noah had, it was that he couldn’t swim. And by the looks of it, no one in the company knew. Because if someone did, Sarah would have already bartered that information and spread it like wildfire.

Besides, how could there be a CEO of a yacht company who was afraid of water?

I didn’t need a business degree to guess the volatile effect it would have on the company’s image. 

Heavy with these thoughts, I worked at a slow pace and gazed back at Noah. Even through the glass walls, I could see that he sat straighter than before, his eyes more focused, and his facial muscles frozen.

The more I stared, the more it didn’t look like a conversation between an uncle and his nephew. Why were they so stiff and business-like? Had it been my aunt or uncle, we would have already shared ten embarrassing stories and laughed until tears pooled in our eyes.

Almost as if Noah could feel my stare, he looked up and caught me again. I managed a small polite smile this time. Instead of returning it, he picked up the remote and closed the blinds. 

I huffed out in disbelief and looked away. My face heated again, and I was just glad that no one else had noticed this exchange. I cursed myself for even being concerned for him. Just what did he think of himself?! With a pout, I typed away aggressively on my computer, and muttered, “Damn robot!”