~Karla's POV~
The moment I'm back at my desk, I grab my phone and text Tessa like my thumbs are on fire.
KARLA:
tessa. I just left his office. I mean his real office. THE OFFICE. the wine island exists. it's not a myth.
TESSA:
WHAT
WHATTT
girl what were you doing in there?? drinking?? sinning?? power posing??
KARLA:
none of that
he wanted to "review campaign tone"
then complimented me?? AGAIN?? said I was right to push back???
TESSA:
so… you're in love?
KARLA:
NO
I'm in psychological distress
TESSA:
What's worse is that you probably looked at his arms again didn't you
KARLA:
Leave me alone
By the time I get to campus that afternoon, I can barely focus.
In class, the professor's talking about emotional buying behaviors and subconscious brand triggers and I'm just sitting there like, cool, what about subconscious boss triggers that live rent-free in your head?
I try to take notes, but my brain keeps drifting.
To his voice.
His face.
The way he said, "Your instincts are good," like it wasn't a big deal—but it was. Coming from him, it was like being knighted.
I scribble nonsense in my notebook just to look busy. One line just says, Do NOT spiral. Underlined twice.
By the time I get home that evening, I'm mentally wrung out.
The apartment is quiet. No music, no Tessa—just the gentle hum of the fridge and the soft creak of the old floorboards beneath my shoes.
I toss my bag onto the chair and head straight to the kitchen, making myself tea like it's some kind of ritual to shake him out of my bloodstream.
But it doesn't work.
Even as I stir in honey, I hear his voice.
"Don't second-guess yourself."
I walk into my room, collapse on my bed, and stare at the ceiling.
He's supposed to be arrogant. Cold. Rigid.
Not... soft.
Not... kind.
Not—God help me—human.
And the worst part?
He looked at me like he saw something.
Something more than an intern.
Something that made him pause.
And that's the moment I realize:
I am in trouble.
Because the man I've spent weeks loathing?
Might not be made entirely of stone after all.
***********
I walk into the office the next morning like I'm dodging emotional landmines.
Laptop? Charged.
Notes? Organized.
Walls? Fully built back up.
Heart? Ignoring all memories of a certain man's voice in a glass-walled office of doom.
"Karla," Liam says with a warm smile as I reach my desk.
He's holding two coffees—one of which he places next to mine without asking. I smile, despite everything.
"You didn't have to," I say, grateful.
"You looked like you were mentally fighting someone yesterday. I figured caffeine might keep you from committing a felony."
I laugh softly, sipping it. "It was close."
We talk for a few minutes, his presence easy and light—the complete opposite of the way I feel when he is near.
I'm just beginning to feel normal again when the energy in the room shifts like a cold wind blowing through the walls.
And I know why.
I don't need to look up to know Dominic Vale has entered the building.
But I do.
And of course—he's heading straight for us.
His gaze lands squarely on Liam, unreadable.
"Liam," he says flatly, "If you have this much time to hang around chatting, I assume your market segmentation reports are finished?"
Liam stiffens slightly. "Yes, sir. Just heading back now."
Dominic doesn't reply. Just stares until Liam nods at me, offers a quiet "Catch you later," and walks off.
Then Dominic turns to me, sharp and cool as ever.
"Ms. Smith," he says.
God, here we go again.
"Yes?" I ask, tone as professional as I can manage.
"My office. Now."
I follow him down the hallway again, but this time something's different. The steps feel heavier. The silence between us more tense.
He closes the office door behind me and walks around the desk.
"You're distracted," he says, voice clipped.
I blink. "Excuse me?"
"You've missed two internal revisions in the past twenty-four hours. The team flagged it. Your head is somewhere else."
My mouth drops open slightly. "So now you're suddenly tracking my every move?"
He arches a brow. "I'm tracking everyone's output. Yours included."
I cross my arms, heart racing. "Oh, so now you're focused on everything I do?"
The words come out sharper than I intended—and louder.
I meant it for me.
But he heard it.
He pauses, that unreadable expression flickering into something else—just for a second.
"Should I not be?" he asks, quieter. More measured.
I swallow hard.
We stare at each other across the desk. Two storms in perfectly tailored clothing.
Neither of us moves. The tension wraps around us like fog. I want to say something. To demand why he suddenly cares. Or why his gaze lingers a beat too long. Or why his voice no longer lands like ice.
But I say nothing.
And neither does he.
Until finally, he looks down at the open folder in front of him. The moment shatters.
"I expect the updates by noon."
I nod stiffly and turn to leave.
But as my hand reaches the door—
"Karla."
I stop.
His voice is softer again.
"You were right. About the messaging."
I look over my shoulder.
"Don't second-guess yourself," he adds.
I open the door and walk out before I can fall apart right there in his billion-dollar office.
The moment the office door clicks shut behind me, I don't go back to my desk.
I don't go anywhere I'm supposed to be.
Instead, I head straight for the emergency stairwell and climb like something's chasing me.
By the time I reach the rooftop, my lungs are burning and my hands are shaking.
I push the door open and let the wind slap me in the face.
The city stretches below me—loud, sprawling, indifferent. Cars buzz. Horns blare. Someone laughs far away. It's chaos down there.
But up here, it's quiet.
I walk to the edge, lean against the railing, and finally exhale the breath I didn't realize I was holding.
What is happening to me?
One minute I hate him. The next, he's standing in his fortress of glass, staring at me like I'm the only puzzle piece that doesn't fit but somehow still matters.
And the way he said my name...
Karla.
It wasn't just professional anymore. It wasn't just cold and clipped.
It sounded almost—personal.
The wind tugs at my coat as I press my palms to the cold metal rail. My heart still won't settle.
I came here to chase a career. A degree. A future.
Not this.
Not him.
Not stolen glances in glass offices or compliments wrapped in confusion or a smirk that makes my stomach twist in ways I don't have time for.
I close my eyes, head tilting back to the grey sky.
Just for a minute, I let myself feel all of it.
The pressure.
The pull.
The part of me that's already changing—and doesn't know how to stop it.
Then I hear the door creak behind me.
Footsteps.
My chest tightens—but when I glance back, it's not Dominic.
It's just another employee lighting a cigarette, nodding at me with detached courtesy.
I turn back toward the skyline, the tension in my shoulders slowly dissolving into the wind.
He's just a man, I tell myself.
Just a man in a suit who hasn't learned how to smile.
You've handled worse.
But deep down, I know it's a lie.
Because Dominic Vale isn't just anything.
And that's exactly what makes him dangerous.