The conference room smelled faintly of stale coffee and fresh printer ink as the late morning sun filtered through the tall hospital windows.
I sat near the middle of the long oval table, pen poised above my notepad, listening as department heads discussed fundraising projections for the upcoming annual charity gala. The steady hum of conversation blended with the soft shuffle of paper dossiers, and for once, the tension resting in my shoulders had nothing to do with Harley.
Dr. Kim cleared his throat at the head of the table, tapping his pen against his pad. "We've selected two representatives from Internal Medicine to coordinate directly with the Huang Group."
My pen paused mid-stroke. A subtle murmur rippled around the room.
"Dr. Huo," Dr. Kim continued, glancing in my direction, "and Nurse Beatrice."
For a second, the room felt far quieter than it actually was. Beside me, Beatrice straightened up, a pleased, polished smile curving her lips.
Huang Group. Which meant… Harley.
Beatrice leaned closer to me as the meeting resumed, her floral perfume light but noticeable. "Huang Group?" she whispered, unable to hide the bright spark of interest in her eyes. "Isn't that the massive corporate conglomerate downtown?"
I nodded once, keeping my eyes fixed on my notepad. "Yes."
She tilted her head slightly, her curiosity piqued. "And the CEO is… young, right?"
I kept my expression entirely neutral, though my pulse had already begun to misbehave. "Twenty-four."
Beatrice's brows lifted in genuine surprise. "Impressive."
Impressive? If only she knew.
Dr. Kim began outlining expectations—coordination meetings, sponsorship alignment, medical outreach speeches—but my focus drifted. I forced myself to jot down notes with steady, precise movements. Professional. Detached. This was work. Nothing more.
Beside me, Beatrice crossed one leg over the other and tapped her pen thoughtfully against her chin. "I've seen photos of him in business magazines," she murmured quietly. "Very serious. Very… intense."
I didn't respond. I knew that if I opened my mouth right now, I might say something entirely unprofessional.
As the meeting concluded and chairs scraped softly against the floorboards, reality settled over me like a heavy weight. Working directly with Harley. Face-to-face meetings. Phone calls. Public appearances. The distance we had so carefully rebuilt over the last few days was about to be tested under bright lights and fake professional smiles.
I told myself it wouldn't matter. We were adults. We could handle this. Still, my fingers tightened around my leather folder just a little too hard.
Two days later, I stood outside the glass doors of the Huang Group headquarters with Beatrice at my side.
The building rose endlessly into the sky, all steel and tinted glass—sharp lines, polished surfaces, and controlled power. It was very him.
Beatrice adjusted her blazer and checked her reflection in the dark glass door. "First impressions matter," she said lightly, smoothing a stray strand of hair into place. "Especially when dealing with men like him."
Men like him. I swallowed quietly, saying nothing.
Inside, the lobby was immaculate. Shining marble floors stretched out beneath a sweeping crystal chandelier, and the air carried the faint, expensive scent of cedar and cologne. We were escorted upstairs, the elevator ride feeling much longer than it should have. When the doors chimed and slid open, Harley's assistant greeted us warmly and led us down a quiet, carpeted executive corridor.
And then—the office door opened.
Harley stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows, the bright afternoon sunlight cutting sharply across his profile. Tailored dark suit. Crisp white lines. Hands tucked casually into his pockets. Calm, controlled, and imposing.
When his eyes found mine, something flickered in his gaze—brief, intense, and unreadable—before he shifted his attention smoothly to Beatrice.
"Dr. Huo. Nurse Beatrice," he greeted, his voice deep and smooth.
Beatrice smiled warmly and stepped forward first, extending her hand. "It's a absolute pleasure to meet you, Mr. Huang."
He shook her hand politely, keeping the contact brief. Then his attention returned to me—not lingering inappropriately, but certainly not detached either.
"Let's discuss the gala," he said, gesturing toward the conference chairs.
As we sat across from his desk, I became hyper-aware of everything. The way Beatrice leaned slightly forward when she laughed. The way Harley's responses were polite, precise, and clipped. The air in the room felt noticeably thinner than before.
Beatrice laughed again at something Harley said—nothing particularly funny—leaning forward slightly as her gold bracelet slid down her wrist, catching the sunlight.
I kept my eyes firmly fixed on the sponsorship documents in front of me.
Harley adjusted his cufflinks as he responded, his tone even. "We'll allocate additional security and media coverage on the west wing. The foundation donors will appreciate the discretion."
Beatrice nodded enthusiastically. "You think of everything, Mr. Huang."
Of course he does. My jaw tightened before I could stop myself. Why did that bother me so much? He hadn't encouraged her, smiled at her, or lingered on her words. He was acting like the exact same composed, distant CEO he always was.
So why did the sight of another woman's attention on him feel like a heavy stone pressing directly against my ribs?
I straightened in my chair and interjected smoothly, redirecting the conversation back to the hospital's financial figures with clinical precision.
Harley's eyes flicked instantly toward me. He knew exactly what I was doing. For half a second, the very corner of his mouth almost curved upward.
When we finished, Beatrice gathered her files and stood first. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Huang. I'm really looking forward to working closely with you." Her smile lingered a fraction longer than necessary.
Harley inclined his head politely. "My assistant will coordinate our next meeting."
I rose as well, smoothing the front of my blazer, keeping my expression entirely neutral. Controlled. Professional.
Just as we reached the double doors, Harley's voice cut through the quiet room.
"Dr. Huo."
I paused, catching out of the corner of my eye that Beatrice stopped in her tracks as well, looking back between the two of us.
"I need a quick word regarding the schedule," he added calmly.
There was nothing suggestive about his tone. Nothing improper. But something in my stomach tightened anyway.
Beatrice hesitated for half a second before offering a polite nod. "I'll wait out by the elevator, Dr. Huo."
"Thank you," I murmured.
The heavy door clicked shut behind her, and an instant silence settled across the room, making the expansive office suddenly feel suffocatingly small.
Harley walked back toward his desk, but he didn't sit down. Instead, he leaned lightly against the front edge, folding his arms loosely across his chest.
"You seemed distracted," he said.
I blinked, holding my folder against my chest like a shield. "We covered everything necessary for the hospital."
"That's not what I meant." His eyes were steady on mine now—no longer CEO to medical representative, but Harley to Sophie.
I crossed my arms instinctively. "What did you mean?"
"You don't have to prove anything in front of her."
A wave of heat crept up my neck. "I wasn't proving anything."
The corner of his mouth shifted slightly. Not quite a smile, but dangerously close. "She flirts," he said simply.
I held his sharp gaze. "And?"
"And it bothers you."
It wasn't a question; it was a statement of fact. My pulse skipped a beat, and I tightened my grip on my folder. "You're very observant for someone who's supposedly indifferent."
His eyes sharpened slightly at that, the subtle humor vanishing into raw intensity. "I'm not indifferent, Sophie."
The words hung heavily in the air between us.
My breath caught in my throat before I forced myself to recover my composure. "This is a professional partnership," I said quietly, stepping back toward the door. "Don't blur the lines."
He straightened up to his full height, the cool mask slipping back over his features. "I don't intend to," he replied.
But the way his eyes lingered on my face for a second longer said otherwise.