Morning came slow to Helmsworth & Co. The sky outside was pale and streaked with the aftermath of last night's storm. Light pooled against the glass walls of the thirty-second floor, soft and cold, while the hum of printers and quiet footsteps built the rhythm of another workday.
Leah arrived earlier than usual. Her coat was still damp at the edges, the air carrying the scent of rain and paper. She had barely set her coffee down when her screen flickered—a notice from the audit division. The final review files had come through, flagged for Voss's approval. She opened them, scanning line after line, her mind already half ahead of itself.
Numbers. Figures. Precision. But there it was—a detail buried between two sections, an entry that didn't align with the rest. Just one figure off, small enough to pass unnoticed by most. But not by her.
Leah leaned closer, tracing the mismatch with her finger. "That's odd…" she murmured under her breath.
Her phone buzzed once.From: A.V.My office. Now.
She hesitated only a moment before standing. Adrian's tone was always clipped, never needing punctuation to command attention.
When she stepped into his office, he was already by the window, jacket off, sleeves rolled, a file in hand. The city stretched wide behind him, all silver light and distance.
"You saw it too," he said without turning.
She blinked. "The misalignment in the expense column?"
A faint nod. "Page 47, line 12. Good catch."
"You already knew?"
"I suspected. But I wanted to see if you'd find it." He looked at her then, expression unreadable. "You did."
Leah shifted slightly, unsure what to say. Compliments from him always carried a weight heavier than flattery—acknowledgment meant something here.
"It wasn't hard to notice," she said softly.
"It was," he countered. "Everyone else missed it."
The silence that followed was strangely steady. The rain had stopped, but droplets clung to the outer glass, sliding down slowly, reflecting their faces in distorted fragments.
He set the file aside and moved closer, the faint scent of cedar and paper accompanying him. "You've been careful lately," he said. "Measured. I can see that."
She met his gaze. "You told me to be."
A flicker passed through his expression—approval, perhaps, or something quieter. "I did."
Her pulse ticked faster. There was something about the way he looked at her, not indulgent, not unprofessional, but like he was seeing beyond the role she played here—past the employee, the assistant, into the quiet place where she kept herself hidden.
He handed her another folder. "This one's yours. I want you to cross-check the vendor names."
"Understood."
When she reached for it, her fingers brushed his again. Just a touch. Accidental, unplanned. But neither of them moved at once.
Leah felt her breath catch, a pulse of awareness rising between them. It wasn't romance, not in words or gestures, but something quieter—a tension like a thread pulled tight, humming softly in the space between.
He drew back first. "Be thorough," he said, voice even again.
"I will."
But as she turned to leave, Adrian's gaze followed her reflection in the glass—her careful composure, the way her hand lingered a second longer on the file than it should have.
Outside his office, the corridors felt heavier. She could feel eyes on her—the kind that lingered a little too long when she passed. Whispers floated faintly near the elevators.
"Voss's assistant was in his office again early this morning.""She's always there after hours.""Probably the reason the man never takes a day off."
Leah kept walking, head high, pulse quickening. The sound of quiet laughter echoed behind her, sharp and low.
Back at her desk, she sank into her chair, gripping the folder too tightly. The rumors had always existed around Adrian—people speculated, invented, filled silence with their own stories. But now it was her name threaded into them, stitched with insinuation she couldn't control.
Her inbox chimed.From: Adrian VossIgnore the noise. Focus on the work.
No greeting. No signature. Just that.
Her throat tightened, not from anger, but from the strange reassurance in those four words. He knew. And he was still watching, still steady.
By noon, she buried herself in numbers, combing through every column and document. That was when she saw it again—something subtle. A vendor name she recognized, not from company lists, but from the hidden letters she'd once seen weeks ago.
Her fingers froze.
Could it be connected?
The office faded around her for a moment. The hum of chatter, the clack of keyboards—all dissolved beneath the steady rhythm of realization. Something in those letters wasn't just personal—it tied into the company's structure.
Her heartbeat quickened. If she was right, this detail, this tiny oversight, could shift everything.
Leah closed the file quietly, her eyes drifting toward Adrian's office. Through the glass, she saw him looking down at a report, one hand resting near his jaw, thoughtful. He hadn't noticed her watching. Or maybe he had.
Their gazes met for a fleeting second. No words, no expression. Just a shared current—something understood but unspoken.
And in that silence, Leah knew two things:That she had stumbled onto something she wasn't meant to find.And that Adrian Voss, for all his restraint, might already know she had.
Outside, the clouds began to gather again, light dimming as the day slipped into its next quiet storm.