The day after their near-silent collaboration, the office atmosphere felt charged — the kind of quiet that buzzed with unspoken tension.
Aurora's headquarters gleamed in its usual elegance, but Alina Ross felt a strange tightness in her chest as she walked through the glass doors. Everything was exactly the same — except her.
She was hyperaware now. Of Adrian Vale's presence. Of his calm voice that always cut through a room like velvet over steel. Of how, somehow, her thoughts kept wandering toward him even when she was supposed to be preparing for the week's strategy presentation.
"Coffee, black, double shot?" Sophie's voice snapped her out of it.
Alina blinked, shaking her head. "Right, yes. Thank you."
Sophie smirked. "You were thinking about him again, weren't you?"
"I was thinking about work," Alina corrected sharply, but the pink in her cheeks betrayed her.
"Sure. And I was thinking about filing taxes," Sophie muttered under her breath with a grin.
Alina shot her a glare but couldn't stop the small smile tugging at her lips. "You're insufferable."
"Occupational hazard," Sophie replied lightly, setting the coffee down and slipping out of the room.
---
The Meeting
By mid-morning, both companies — Aurora and Vale Holdings — gathered in the joint conference hall for a project update. The room was sleek, white, and filled with polished ambition.
Adrian stood at the far end of the table, hands tucked neatly in his pockets, eyes cool and unreadable. He looked every bit the rival she'd spent years trying to outshine.
And yet, this morning, the sight of him didn't spark anger. It sparked… something warmer.
She hated that.
"Ms. Ross," Adrian greeted smoothly when their eyes met. "Punctual as always."
"Someone has to keep things on schedule," she replied coolly, setting her files down.
His lips curved slightly — that half-smile that always seemed to throw her balance off. "Then I'll do my best not to waste your time."
As the meeting unfolded, their conversation was measured, professional — but underneath, there was a thread of something else.
Every glance felt heavier.
Every agreement, more intimate.
Every argument, less hostile, more… familiar.
When she presented her marketing pitch, Adrian leaned back, quietly studying her. He didn't interrupt — didn't even challenge her numbers as he usually did.
Instead, he said, "You've improved this projection."
Her eyes flicked to him, startled. "I—yes. I refined it."
"It shows," he said simply.
A quiet acknowledgment — but from him, it felt like a confession.
Liam, Adrian's assistant, caught the exchange and shot Sophie a knowing look. Sophie grinned, mouthing they're doomed under her breath.
---
After the Meeting
The room emptied slowly, but Alina lingered, collecting her notes. She told herself it was habit — attention to detail. But truthfully, she was stalling.
And, of course, Adrian stayed behind too.
"I'll send over the revisions tomorrow," she said briskly, stuffing her pen into her file.
He nodded. "I trust your judgment."
She looked up sharply. "You trust me?"
"On the project," he clarified smoothly, but the faint glimmer of amusement in his eyes said he knew exactly how she'd interpret it.
Her lips parted, ready to retort, but he stepped closer — not enough to touch, but close enough that she caught the faint scent of cedar and coffee.
Her heartbeat stumbled.
"Alina," he said softly, and the way her name sounded from him made her pulse jump. "You don't always have to be on guard."
She frowned, defensive. "Maybe I like it that way."
"Or maybe," he said quietly, "you're afraid to see what happens when you're not."
The air thickened.
Her mind screamed to walk away — to say something clever, something sharp — but her feet stayed rooted.
When she finally spoke, her voice was barely a whisper. "You don't know me that well."
He smiled faintly. "I think I do."
And then he was gone, leaving her standing in the empty conference room with a heart that refused to settle.
---
The Assistants' Intervention
"You're doomed," Sophie announced the moment Alina returned to her office.
"For what?"
"For whatever that thing is you have with Adrian Vale," she said, waving her hands dramatically.
"There is no thing."
Sophie tilted her head. "You're blushing."
"I am not."
"You're absolutely—"
"Don't you have work to do?"
Sophie sighed, dramatically flopping into the chair. "Fine. Deny it. But one of these days, he's going to say something that'll make you forget your own name, and I am living for that moment."
Alina pointed toward the door. "Out."
"Love you too, boss," Sophie sang as she left.
---
Late Night at Aurora
By evening, the office was mostly empty. The city lights outside bathed the glass walls in gold and violet hues.
Alina was still at her desk, reviewing the final contract details for their next joint venture.
She didn't expect anyone else to still be there — but when she looked up, Adrian was standing by her door, jacket slung over his arm.
"Working late?" he asked casually.
"I could ask you the same," she replied.
He leaned against the doorframe, unhurried. "I thought I'd make sure you weren't overdoing it."
She laughed softly. "You're the last person who should lecture me about overworking."
He smiled — a rare, genuine smile that reached his eyes. "Touché."
There was silence then, comfortable and strangely fragile.
He stepped closer, resting his hand on the edge of her desk. "You know," he said quietly, "you don't have to compete with me all the time."
She looked up, startled. "That's easy for you to say. You're not the one constantly being compared."
"I've been compared all my life," he said. "The trick is learning not to care."
"Easy to say," she murmured, "when you're always the one people side with."
His gaze softened. "That's not true."
For a moment, the façade slipped — the cold, nonchalant mask she'd come to associate with him.
"You think I don't notice how hard you work?" he said. "You've built Aurora into something incredible, Alina. You should know that."
Her throat tightened. Compliments weren't something she took easily — especially from him.
"Why are you saying this?" she asked softly.
"Because someone should," he replied, voice low. "And because I mean it."
Her eyes met his — steady, unreadable, but warm.
Something inside her shifted.
---
The Near Touch
He reached forward, almost unconsciously, to hand her a document she hadn't realized she'd dropped. Their fingers brushed — light, fleeting, but electric.
The air between them froze.
Her breath caught, and for a second, neither moved.
Then she pulled her hand back quickly, heart hammering. "Thank you," she managed, her voice thin.
He stepped back, clearing his throat. "You should get some rest."
"I will," she said softly.
He turned to leave, then paused at the door. "Goodnight, Alina."
She hesitated. "Goodnight, Adrian."
When he was gone, she sat there for a long time, staring at the faint imprint of his touch on her skin.
It shouldn't mean anything. It couldn't mean anything.
And yet, somehow, it did.
---
Later That Night
Sophie's message pinged on her phone.
> "Still thinking about him?"
Alina groaned, typing back:
> "Go to sleep."
> "You didn't deny it 😏"
She threw her phone aside, burying her face in her hands.
"Damn it," she whispered to the empty room, "what are you doing to me, Adrian Vale?"
Outside, the city lights flickered. Somewhere across town, Adrian sat in his own office, staring at a report he wasn't reading. His thoughts, too, were miles away — circling around the same name.