Amara's Point of View
The days at Blackwood Enterprises moved quickly, yet each one left her more restless than the last. Amara was adapting — learning the pace, the silence, the codes spoken through glances rather than words. She was getting better at her job. But what she wasn't prepared for was the way he affected her.
She told herself to stay focused. That she was here to work, not to feel. But every time she stepped into his office to hand over a file or collect a signature, the air shifted. The temperature seemed to rise, just slightly. The silence between them wasn't awkward. It was thick — charged.
He didn't speak much. He didn't smile. But when their eyes met, even briefly, her breath would falter. She hated how aware she became of her body in those moments — of her posture, her voice, her heartbeat.
She wondered if he noticed her the way she noticed him. She wondered if her presence disturbed the stillness he surrounded himself with. And more than once, she caught herself imagining what his hands might feel like if they ever left the desk.
It was foolish. It was wrong. But it was real.
Something was building between them — unsaid, unexplored, yet undeniable.
And that afternoon, when she accidentally brushed his hand while passing a report across the desk, her fingers burned like they'd touched fire.
He didn't pull away immediately. Nor did she.
It lasted less than a second, but it was enough to awaken something she wasn't sure she could bury again.
---
Adrian's Point of View
He had spent years perfecting the art of distance. Discipline. He never mixed personal with professional. He never let anyone get too close — especially not here, not within the walls of the company he built.
But Amara tested that distance daily. And she didn't even know it.
He found himself watching her more than he should. Listening to the rhythm of her heels against the floor. Noticing the small things — how she chewed on the edge of her pen when thinking, how she tucked her hair behind her ear when reading. She never flirted, never lingered longer than necessary, but her presence stayed with him long after she left the room.
He wasn't foolish enough to pretend it meant nothing. His attraction to her had crossed into dangerous territory. And yet, he didn't stop it. He didn't want to.
Today, she touched him. Just her fingers grazing his hand while exchanging a document — but it shook him.
He had been speaking, mid-sentence, when it happened. But after that touch, his words drifted. His mind stilled.
She didn't look up. She didn't react. But he felt it — the hesitation, the stillness, the recognition of something neither of them had spoken of yet.
It was only a moment. But it confirmed what he already knew.
This wasn't going away.
And if it wasn't controlled soon, it wouldn't stay innocent much longer.