The boardroom smelled like burnt coffee and ambition.
Screens blinked, voices rose and fell, papers shuffled like restless birds. Everyone was talking, everyone had something to say — and all I could think about was the faint ache behind my eyes from last night.
Mara sat across from me. Composed. Silent. Dangerous in the way still water is dangerous — you never know how deep it goes. Her gaze brushed mine once, then darted away, polite, professional. Nothing in her face hinted at the chaos that had happened between us under the shower hours ago.
I almost convinced myself it had been a fever dream. Almost.
Then the door opened, and she walked in.
The sound of her heels cut through the room like a metronome.
Confidence dressed in charcoal gray. A folder tucked under one arm. A perfume I remembered without wanting to.
It took a second for my brain to place her.
The cheek kiss. The charity gala. That moment that had left me blinking under flashbulbs, stunned by a stranger's boldness.
Now, here she was, smiling like she'd never done anything out of line.
"Apologies for being late," she said. "The Milan partners kept me longer than expected."
Someone murmured that it was fine — she was, after all, Camille D'Souza, Head of Global Expansion. One of the youngest and most relentless executives we had.
So this was her.
The girl who kissed my cheeks in public the first day I walked into here and disappeared like a scandal no one wanted to name.
She glanced my way — and for a heartbeat, the air between us tightened. Mara noticed. Of course she did. Mara notices everything.
The meeting dragged on for two hours. Memos, projections, market talk — a blur of polite jargon. I nodded when I had to, spoke when expected, but Camille kept stealing small glances my way. It wasn't flirtation exactly. It was memory. Recognition.
When the meeting finally adjourned, the room emptied like a tide receding. One by one, the executives left. Except Mara. And Camille
Mara lingered near the window, scrolling her phone, pretending not to care. Camille leaned on the conference table, flipping her pen in her fingers.
I gathered my iPad and began sorting through some PDFs when her voice slid across the quiet.
"So… how about that date you promised me?"
I looked up, startled. "I'm sorry, what?"
Camille tilted her head, amused. "You don't remember, do you? The hospital. I came to see you every day. You said when you got out, you'd take me out."
My lips parted. "That was you?"
"Mmh." Her smile curved, soft and deliberate. "Guilty. And you still owe me."
A small laugh escaped me, though it came out more nervous than I intended. "Right. I—uh—guess I do."
"So when?" she pressed.
"Any day you want," I said before my brain caught up with my mouth.
"Perfect." She pulled out her phone, tapped something fast. "Reservation made. La Vienne. One hour."
I blinked. "You're serious?"
"I don't make empty promises, Ayla."
Her tone — playful, but weighted. Like she knew exactly what she was doing.
Mara shifted in her chair. I could feel her watching, silent and still. When Camille turned to leave, she gave Mara a polite nod, then met my gaze one last time.
"Don't be late," she said, and walked out.
The door clicked shut behind her.
Silence.
I didn't need to look at Mara to feel the tension radiating off her.
"What?" I asked finally.
"You really don't waste time, do you?" she said, her voice smooth, clipped — the kind of calm that comes before something breaks.
"It's just dinner," I said lightly.
"With her?"
I turned in my chair to face her. "She's an executive. I can't exactly say no."
Mara rose slowly, crossing the distance between us until she was close enough for me to smell her perfume — jasmine and something darker, like rain on stone.
"Be careful," she said, almost whispering. "Camille doesn't play fair."
I tilted my head. "Neither do you."
Her jaw tightened. "You don't understand."
"Then make me," I said.
She didn't. She just stood there, silent, her eyes searching mine — full of something that looked a lot like jealousy, and a little like fear.
Camille wanted a date.
Mara wanted control.
And I… I just wanted to breathe.
But in this house of power, even breathing came with consequences.