The hum of the radiator filled the silence as Isabel sat in the plush leather chair across from Adrian's desk. The office was warm, but the tension between them crackled like static. She was early—ten minutes early—but Adrian was already there, meticulously scribbling notes onto a legal pad.
He didn't look up right away. The ticking of the antique clock on his shelf grew louder with each second.
"I reviewed your proposal again," Adrian said finally, his tone controlled but not cold. "The yield projection model you presented? It's—ambitious."
Isabel inhaled slowly, steadying her nerves. "Ambitious, but feasible."
He lifted his eyes, pinning her with a stare that was unreadable. "You're not afraid of pushing boundaries, are you?"
A silence stretched between them.
"I've already lived with limits," she said, her voice low. "It nearly killed me."
His jaw tightened. A flicker of something—concern?—passed through his expression. "I assume this has to do with your past relationship."
She looked down, fingers tightening around her pen. "I didn't think that was relevant."
"It is, Isabel," he said softly. "If you're going to work this closely with me, I need to understand the factors that shape your thinking. That includes trauma, if it's still haunting you."
"I'm not broken," she said quickly, a defensive edge in her voice.
"I didn't say you were."
She stood suddenly. "I thought this was about finance."
"It is," Adrian replied, rising with a calm that contrasted her tension. "But the people behind the numbers matter just as much as the math."
His nearness sent an unexpected rush through her. There was something dangerously personal in the way he watched her—like he was decoding more than data.
"I should go," Isabel muttered, heading for the door.
"Wait." His voice halted her. "You've earned the right to be here. Don't let your fear steal that from you and be careful of who you share your silence with."
She turned, eyes locked on his. For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then she left.
Later That Night – Dormitory Room 2B
"Girl, you are vibrating," Jude said, tossing a hoodie onto his bed as Isabel paced.
"I can't explain it," Isabel muttered. "It's not like he touched me. It's not like he said anything inappropriate. But the tension is there. It's real. I feel it."
Jude paused, watching her closely. "Are you scared or intrigued?"
She stopped walking. "Both."
He nodded. "That's usually how the dangerous ones get in."
Isabel glanced toward her phone on the desk. No new messages. But the one from last night still hovered in her mind.