Over the following weeks, Alexander became increasingly distant. He was polite during meetings, professional in their interactions, but the warmth from that night on the rooftop was gone. Maya told herself it was for the best, but the coldness hurt more than she wanted to admit.
"You're distracted," her assistant, Jenny, observed one afternoon as Maya stared out her office window for the third time in an hour.
"Just thinking about the Morrison campaign," Maya lied.
"Uh-huh. This wouldn't have anything to do with the way you and Mr. Sinclair have been avoiding eye contact in meetings?"
Maya looked at Jenny sharply. "We haven't been avoiding anything."
"Right. And I'm the Queen of England."
Before Maya could respond, her phone rang. Alexander's assistant was on the line.
"Mr. Sinclair would like to see you in his office immediately."
Maya's stomach clenched. "Did he say what it was about?"
"No, just that it was urgent."