Chapter 3 Unwanted Attention

Lila's POV

I told myself I wouldn't think about him.

Nathaniel.

Even his name feels out of place in my world. Too polished, too... unattainable. But here I am, obsessing over every word he said, every look he gave me. It's been three days since he walked into the bookstore, and I've replayed our awkward interaction a hundred times in my head.

I mean, who buys books just for decoration? Who does that?

And why does it bother me so much?

"Earth to Lila!"

I snap out of my thoughts to find my best friend, Mia, waving a hand in front of my face. She's perched on my bed, surrounded by an explosion of art supplies and snack wrappers.

"You've been zoning out all morning," she says, raising an eyebrow. "What's going on? Don't tell me you're actually thinking about a guy."

"I'm not!" I blurt out, too quickly to sound convincing.

Mia smirks, clearly not buying it. "Oh, this is juicy. Spill."

"There's nothing to spill," I insist, picking at a loose thread on my sweater. "Just... some guy came into the bookstore the other day. He's rude and full of himself, and I can't stop thinking about how annoying he is."

"Uh-huh," Mia says, nodding sagely. "And is this 'rude, full-of-himself' guy by any chance super hot?"

I groan, burying my face in my hands. "That's not the point!"

"It totally is," she teases, throwing a pillow at me. "Come on, what's his name? What does he look like?"

"Nathaniel," I mumble. "And he's... fine, okay? Just... tall and sharp-looking. Like he walked out of a billionaire romance novel or something."

Mia gasps dramatically. "Lila! Are you blushing? This is monumental."

"I'm not blushing!" I protest, even though I can feel my cheeks heating up.

"Sure, sure," she says with a grin. "Well, you'd better be careful. Guys like that are usually trouble."

I roll my eyes. "Trust me, Mia, I have zero intention of getting involved with him. He's not my type. And I'm definitely not his."

But even as I say the words, I can't help but wonder why the thought makes my chest feel so heavy.

Nathaniel's POV

I can't get her out of my head.

The girl from the bookstore.

Lila.

I don't know why she's bothering me so much. She's the exact opposite of everything I look for in a person-messy, awkward, too quick to laugh. She doesn't fit into my world, and I don't fit into hers.

So why do I keep thinking about her?

I sit back in my office chair, staring at the stack of books on my desk. They're classics, according to the old woman who helped me at the store. Dickens, Austen, Hemingway. I haven't opened a single one of them.

They're just... there. Like her.

I shake my head, frustrated with myself. I have more important things to focus on. The quarterly report is due in two days, and my assistant has been hounding me about a merger meeting next week.

But instead of reviewing spreadsheets and emails, I find myself replaying that moment in the bookstore-the way her face turned bright red when she knocked over the books, the way she laughed nervously at her own clumsiness.

It was... charming.

No. Not charming. Distracting.

I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. I don't have time for distractions. My life is structured, disciplined. There's no room for chaos-or for people who bring chaos with them.

And yet...

"Sir?"

I look up to see James standing in the doorway of my office, his usual calm demeanor slightly strained.

"What is it?" I ask, already annoyed by the interruption.

"There's someone here to see you," he says.

"Did they have an appointment?"

"No, sir. But she insisted."

"She?"

Before I can ask who it is, the door swings open, and there she is.

Lila.

Lila's POV

This is a mistake.

A terrible, horrible mistake.

But here I am, standing in Nathaniel's impossibly sleek office, clutching the notebook I accidentally took home from the bookstore. It's his, of course. He must have left it on the counter while he was paying, and I didn't notice until later that night.

I could have just called the bookstore and left it with Mrs. Winslow, but for some reason, I decided to bring it here myself.

Big mistake.

He's sitting behind a massive desk, his sharp suit and piercing gaze making him look every bit the intimidating CEO. I feel like I'm about to be grilled in a corporate interrogation.

"You," he says, his tone flat.

"Hi," I reply weakly, holding up the notebook like a peace offering. "You left this at the store."

He doesn't move, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes me in. I suddenly feel very small and very out of place.

"I thought it would be better to return it in person," I add, my voice barely above a whisper.

"You thought wrong," he says coldly.

I flinch, his words cutting deeper than they should.

"Right. Of course. Sorry for wasting your time," I say, already turning to leave.

"Wait."

His voice stops me in my tracks, and I glance back over my shoulder.

"Thank you," he says, his tone softer this time.

I nod, unsure of what to say.

And as I leave his office, my heart racing and my cheeks burning, I can't help but wonder what I've gotten myself into.