Silver Adams knew something had changed the moment she walked into the office.
It wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic. But it was there—in the way conversations paused when she passed, in the way a few curious eyes lingered a second longer than necessary.
And in the way Raymond Cole did not look at her.
At least, not openly.
She sat at her desk, arranging documents with trembling fingers, telling herself she was imagining things. After all, Raymond Cole was the CEO. A billionaire. A man whose presence shifted the air in a room. It made sense that everyone noticed him.
What didn't make sense was the knot tightening in her chest.
Since their last interaction, Silver had replayed every word, every look, every unspoken moment. She had been too close to him—emotionally, physically, dangerously close.
And she had felt it.
The pull.
The awareness.
The risk.
She had promised herself she would never again fall for a man who stood too far above her world.
Mid-morning, a message popped up on her screen.
Raymond Cole: Can you bring the Harper contract to my office?
Her breath caught.
Professional. Polite. Nothing personal.
Still, her heart raced as she stood and gathered the folder. Each step toward the executive floor felt heavier than the last.
The office door was open.
Raymond stood by the window, city stretching endlessly behind him. He turned as she entered, his expression calm, controlled—CEO calm.
"Thank you for coming," he said.
She handed him the folder. "Here's the contract."
Their fingers didn't touch this time.
The distance felt deliberate.
"You've been quiet today," Raymond said, his voice even.
"I'm always quiet," Silver replied.
"That's not true," he said gently. "You're observant. There's a difference."
She didn't answer.
Raymond sighed softly, setting the folder aside. "Silver… about the other day—"
"I don't think we should talk about it," she said quickly, panic flaring. "You're my boss. And I'm—"
"An employee," he finished. "Yes. I'm aware."
Her shoulders stiffened. "Then we should keep things professional."
Raymond studied her face, searching.
"And is that what you want?" he asked quietly.
The question struck her deeper than she expected.
"I don't know what I want," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I know what I'm afraid of."
"And that is?"
She met his gaze, eyes shimmering. "Being another temporary distraction. Being someone you notice today and forget tomorrow."
Raymond's jaw tightened.
"That's not who I am," he said firmly.
"I don't know that," she replied. "I don't know you like that."
The honesty in her words left the room silent.
After a moment, Raymond nodded slowly. "You're right. And I won't cross lines you're not ready for."
Relief and disappointment tangled inside her chest.
"Thank you," she whispered.
The days that followed were worse than she expected.
Raymond kept his distance.
No lingering glances. No quiet conversations. No personal moments.
Just professionalism.
Silver told herself that was what she wanted. But her heart didn't agree.
She found herself noticing small things—the way he stayed late, the way he listened more than he spoke, the way he defended junior staff during meetings without raising his voice.
He was powerful, yes—but controlled. Considerate.
Dangerously attractive.
And still out of reach.
One evening, Silver worked late to finish a report. The office was nearly empty when she finally stood, stretching tired muscles.
She turned—and nearly collided with Raymond.
Again.
"I'm sorry," she said instinctively.
"You always apologize," he replied softly.
"Habit."
They stood there, the quiet stretching between them.
"You should go home," he said. "It's late."
"So should you," she replied before thinking.
A corner of his mouth lifted. "Fair."
The silence thickened.
Raymond took a step closer—just one.
"I meant what I said," he said quietly. "I won't cross your boundaries. But don't mistake restraint for indifference."
Her breath faltered.
"I don't," she said.
For a moment, they simply looked at each other.
No touch.
No kiss.
Just awareness so sharp it hurt.
Then Silver stepped back.
"Goodnight, Mr. Cole."
Raymond nodded. "Goodnight, Silver."
That night, Silver lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
She had drawn a line.
But lines were meant to be tested.
Across the city, Raymond Cole loosened his tie, frustration and desire battling inside him.
He had never wanted something he couldn't take.
Until her.
And he knew—without question—that the hardest part wouldn't be waiting.
It would be proving that when he chose her, it wouldn't be temporary.