POV: Elena
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By Thursday, I had decided to stop overthinking.
Zayden Wolfe was just… Zayden. A really kind, really intimidating man who happened to be my boss. Sure, the whole surname thing was odd, but if he said he only ran the marketing department, then… that was it.
And maybe I wanted to believe him.
Because the alternative—that I had spent half a flight cuddled up on the shoulder of an actual CEO—was just too embarrassing to unpack.
Besides, everything felt normal again.
Well, almost.
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I was finishing edits on a client brief when someone walked into Zayden's office without knocking.
Tall. Beautiful. Ridiculously confident.
Layla, from PR.
I only knew her by name, but she was one of those women who looked like she belonged on the cover of Vogue—heels clicking, perfume trailing, voice always loud enough to be heard from three desks away.
I tried not to stare.
But she lingered.
Leaned.
Laughed way too hard at something Zayden said.
And he didn't seem to mind.
Something sharp twisted in my chest.
Stop it, Elena.
But when I looked up again, she was tugging at his sleeve and whispering something.
That was it.
I stood without thinking and walked straight toward the glass door.
I knocked once—then pushed it open like I was on official business.
"Sorry to interrupt," I said as calmly as I could, "but I need Mr. Wolfe's approval on the updated brand assets."
Zayden looked at me, something flickering in his eyes.
Layla glanced over her shoulder, clearly annoyed. "Oh, I didn't realize we were letting interns in during meetings."
I smiled tightly. "I didn't realize it was a meeting."
Zayden stifled a laugh. "Elena, come in. Let me see the files."
Layla lingered a second longer before finally stepping out, her eyes trailing over him one last time. "Don't forget what I said," she purred.
Zayden didn't reply.
I closed the door.
He leaned back in his chair and tilted his head at me, amused. "That was bold."
I avoided his gaze. "I just… thought you should see this."
"You could've emailed."
I swallowed. "I wanted to make sure you saw it in person."
A pause.
Then his voice dropped, playful.
"Elena."
I looked up.
He was smiling now, a soft smirk tugging at his lips.
"Were you… jealous?"
My heart tripped over itself.
"No," I said too quickly. "Of course not."
He stood, slowly walking toward me.
"Because if you were…" He leaned in, just slightly. "I'd be flattered."
"Zayden."
His name came out like a whisper.
He was so close I could see the tiny scar just above his brow. The faintest dimple that only appeared when his smile was real.
"I'm not jealous," I whispered.
He raised a brow. "Then why is your heartbeat going crazy?"
I stepped back, blushing. "You're impossible."
"Only around you."
He chuckled under his breath, brushing past me to return to his desk. But as he sat down, his voice changed—softer.
"For the record," he added, not looking at me, "Layla's not my type."
I paused at the door.
"And what is your type?"
He looked up. Straight at me.
"You."
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