Love Unspoken

He seemed like a loving person, but only Getty was privy to the cold indifference that coursed through his veins. He appeared detached, as though he was an observer of the world, watching the inexplicable highs and lows of humanity with a dispassionate gaze. His heart was a fortress, impervious to any attempts to breach its icy walls.

"Right, so we're all doomed to face our karma," Getty declared, releasing him and rising to her feet. "If you're adamant about keeping her at the company, then you need to make me a promise."

"Go on," he encouraged. "Every day she's at the office, you can't go home with her. I can't bear the thought of her monopolizing your time, day and night. You vowed to stay away from her for three months, a promise you failed to keep!" Alexander reclined in his chair, massaging his temples. "What makes you think I'll keep my word this time?"

"Exactly my point. How can I trust anything you say? Like when you promised to take care of me forever?" Getty shot back. Getty had long since realized that promises were merely his excuses. The weight of a vow? To him, it was nothing more than a convenient pretext for doing as he pleased.

With a challenging arch of his brow, Alexander retorted, "You're under no obligation to believe me."

Choking on her frustration, Getty responded, "Fine, I'm done arguing. Can Quinn at least help me move my stuff?"

Alexander fired back, "Ask her yourself. If she's agreeable, I have no objections."

But Getty, undeterred, placed the intercom from his desk in front of him and asked in a flirtatious tone, "Come on, I want you to ask her. You can't deny me such a small favor, can you?"

Alexander glanced dismissively at the phone in her hand. "What are you moving?"

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"Just some personal items. Don't worry, I wouldn't dare burden your wife with heavy lifting!"

The word 'wife' slipped through her clenched teeth, striking a nerve with Alexander. His expression darkened. In a swift movement, he snatched the phone from Getty's hand and dialed the intercom.

Meanwhile, Quinn was diligently picking up discarded documents from the trash can. Regardless of Alexander's motives for bringing her into the company, she had resolved to give it her all.Even if she gained just a smidgen of knowledge, it would add a dash of excitement to her otherwise mundane life.

When the phone rang, she answered promptly. Alexander's voice came through, "Help Getty move her stuff."

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With that, he hung up, leaving Quinn holding the receiver in surprise. Shortly after, Getty sauntered over in her high heels, tapping Quinn's desk, "Heard that? Let's move my things."

Quinn looked incredulously at the phone. Alexander had actually instructed her to assist Getty. With a tight-lipped smile, Quinn set aside the receiver and gestured, 'What am I moving?'

Getty, who neither understood nor cared to understand Quinn's gesture, had packed a cardboard box and plopped it on the table. "This." Quinn hoisted the bulky and heavy box into her arms, her vision obscured by its size. She was forced to tilt her head to navigate her path. She followed Getty to the elevator, where they encountered Alexander, documents in hand.

Blocked by the box, Quinn couldn't see him, but Getty did. Getty slipped her arm through Alexander's. "Thanks, Alex," she cooed. "I had no idea how I'd manage to get this enormous box downstairs by myself."

Alexander eyed the box in Quinn's arms, his expression inscrutable. He pressed the elevator button without uttering a word.Quinn stood quietly to one side, her fingers clutching the cardboard. She felt like a mere spectator to their intimate exchange.She was grateful that the box was large enough to hide her embarrassment.