The ballroom shimmered with muted golds and silvers, chandeliers catching the light in a thousand reflections across the glass walls. Leah adjusted the strap of her dress — simple, elegant, chosen precisely because she didn't want to stand out.
It was the company's annual investor dinner, one of those events where appearances spoke louder than numbers. Adrian had insisted on her presence — "You handle the contracts better than most," he'd said — but Leah knew there was more to it. Something unspoken in his tone, something that hovered between professionalism and a quiet, deliberate trust.
She spotted him almost immediately.Adrian Grant — in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, posture composed yet undeniably commanding. He was speaking with two board members, expression calm, voice measured. But when his gaze found her across the crowd, his composure wavered for a fraction of a second.
That pause — that infinitesimal shift — was enough to send a rush of warmth through her.
Leah turned toward the drinks table, pretending to study the champagne options. The air felt heavier tonight, filled with music, laughter, and a low current of tension she couldn't name.
Then, a voice.
"Leah?"
She froze. That voice was unfamiliar but carried the ease of someone who had every right to be there. When she turned, she saw her — Clara.
Tall, poised, the kind of beauty that didn't need introduction. Her hand rested lightly on a crystal glass, her smile polite yet edged.
"You must be Leah Adams," Clara said. "I've heard quite a bit about you."
Leah forced a smile. "I can't say the same, but it's nice to meet you."
Clara's eyes flicked over her dress, her tone silky smooth. "You've been working closely with Adrian lately, haven't you? He's… particular about who he trusts."
There was nothing hostile in the words, yet the intent was clear — a reminder of familiarity, of history. Leah straightened her shoulders. "He's a demanding boss. But he's fair."
"Fair," Clara repeated, her lips curving faintly. "That's generous of you."
Before Leah could reply, Adrian appeared beside them, his presence immediate. "Clara."
She smiled at him, too warmly. "It's been a while, Adrian."
"Not long enough," he said evenly. But his eyes drifted toward Leah, just once, as if checking she was all right. The subtle protectiveness didn't go unnoticed.
Clara, ever perceptive, caught it. "Well," she said softly, "it seems things have changed around here."
Leah wanted to step back, to disappear into the crowd, but Adrian's hand brushed her arm — barely a touch, hidden from sight. "Stay," he murmured under his breath, tone low and steady.
The word grounded her. She stood still.
The conversation that followed was polite, layered with small smiles and half-truths. Clara spoke of her travels, her ventures, the things she'd left behind. Adrian answered sparingly, each word measured, the distance between them evident. But Leah could sense the undercurrent — unfinished business, and the quiet storm brewing beneath it.
When Clara excused herself, leaving a trace of perfume and tension in her wake, Leah exhaled slowly.
"She's… different than I imagined," Leah said carefully.
"She's exactly as she's always been," Adrian replied. His voice was steady, but his jaw had tightened.
Leah hesitated. "You didn't have to—"
He turned to her fully then, his expression unreadable. "I did."
For a heartbeat, they stood too close — close enough for Leah to catch the faint scent of his cologne, the warmth radiating off his skin. Her chest tightened, the noise of the room fading to a distant hum.
Someone called Adrian's name across the floor, breaking the silence. He stepped back, composure snapping back into place.
"Finish your drink," he said quietly. "Then find me before you leave."
She nodded, watching as he walked away — the lines of his suit, the calm precision of every step.
But Clara's words echoed in her mind.He's particular about who he trusts.
Leah wasn't sure if that made her special — or vulnerable.
Later that night, as she left the event, she caught sight of them again — Adrian and Clara, standing near the glass entrance. Their conversation seemed restrained, but there was history there, sharp and lingering.
When Adrian's gaze lifted and found hers again, Leah looked away first.
Because some truths didn't need to be spoken to hurt.
And some dilemmas weren't about choices at all — they were about what you allowed yourself to feel, even when you knew you shouldn't.