Rain ran down the glass walls of Kingsley Tower, blurring the city lights into a mix of gold and silver. Inside, Ava Collins finished typing the last lines of a report, the only sound in the empty office coming from the storm outside. Working late was familiar territory; as executive assistant to Liam Kingsley, Manhattan's most demanding CEO, achieving perfection often took precedence over sleep.
Through the glass, she caught sight of him—sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, dark hair tousled as he scrutinized numbers. He exuded power effortlessly. Yet tonight, he appeared more fatigued than she had ever seen.
She knocked softly. "Mr. Kingsley? The quarterly report is ready."
He looked up at her with cool gray eyes. "You've been here since morning. Come inside."
Stepping in with the folder in hand, she noticed the office smelled of cedar and rain. He didn't open the file; instead, he gestured toward the window. "Look at that. The city never stops."
"It keeps moving," she replied, "even when people are worn out."
He studied her for a moment, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "You sound like someone who's learned that lesson the hard way."
"Maybe I have."
A faint smile flickered on his lips—the first genuine one she'd seen that wasn't meant for investors. For a brief instant, their usual distance vanished. The storm faded into the background, leaving only their quiet breathing and the soft hum of city lights.
"You've worked harder than anyone here," he said. "You remind me of someone I pushed away."
She held his gaze steady. "Then don't push people away anymore."
The vulnerability in his eyes took her by surprise. For once, this man everyone feared appeared almost gentle. "Sometimes I forget how lonely success can be," he murmured.
"Maybe you just need a door instead of taller walls," she suggested.
He chuckled softly. "You make too much sense, Ava Collins."
The warmth from his laughter lingered longer than it should have as she quickly gathered her things. "I should go—it's getting late."
"I'll have a car take you home."
"That's not necessary."
"Humor me," he replied gently but with an undeniable firmness.
At the door, she paused when he spoke again. "Thank you—for staying."
She offered a faint smile in return. "Good night, Mr. Kingsley."
As the elevator doors closed behind her, her heart raced unexpectedly. She couldn't quite grasp why that simple exchange felt like the start of something that would transform both their lives forever.