The office was never truly quiet. Even past nine o'clock, when the city lights glittered outside like a thousand restless stars, Kane Corp's headquarters hummed with electricity.
But tonight, it felt like the building itself was holding its breath.
Elara rubbed her temples as she scanned the latest draft of the Callahan proposal. Her desk lamp cast a warm glow over the neat stacks of paper, and the city skyline blinked at her through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
She should've gone home hours ago.
Instead, she was still here because Damien Kane didn't seem to understand the concept of "work-life balance."
And because she couldn't exactly tell her boss, Hey, sir, I'd like to go home and binge reality TV while eating ramen. Please don't fire me.
The sound of a door opening made her flinch.
"Elara," Damien's voice called.
She turned, trying not to look as frazzled as she felt. He stood in the doorway of his office, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up. His hair was slightly mussed, as if he'd run a frustrated hand through it.
And dear god, he looked unfairly good like that.
"Yes, Mr. Kane?" she said, hoping her voice didn't squeak.
"Come in. I need your input."
Her input. Not just her shorthand notes. Not just her calendar coordination. Input.
Heart thudding, she followed him in.
Papers were spread across his desk, scattered with the kind of precision that only looked chaotic to the untrained eye. He gestured toward the seat opposite him.
"Sit."
She did. "What's the problem?"
"This merger," Damien said flatly, tapping the document. "Callahan wants more than he deserves. I need to cut through his demands without killing the deal."
Elara scanned the highlighted sections, her brows knitting. "He's overreaching on the distribution clause. If you give him that, he'll leverage it later. But…" She hesitated. "If you sweeten the exclusivity period, it might keep him satisfied."
Damien's eyes flicked up, sharp and assessing. "Go on."
Her pulse raced. "Well, he's obsessed with being the only one in the room. Make him feel like he's holding the crown jewel for longer. He'll forget he lost the other pieces."
For a moment, silence. Then Damien's mouth curved — not quite a smile, but close. "You're smarter than you look, Hart."
Her cheeks heated. "Thanks, I think."
He leaned back in his chair, studying her. "You surprise me."
She fidgeted with her pen. "Is that… good?"
"It means I underestimated you."
Her chest tightened, caught somewhere between pride and annoyance. "I told you I'm more than just a notepad."
"I'm beginning to believe it." His voice was low, deliberate.
The air between them thickened, stretched.
Elara cleared her throat, desperate to break it. "So… you'll offer the exclusivity?"
"I'll consider it." But his gaze lingered on her, not the papers.
Seconds ticked by, heavy with something unspoken.
Finally, Damien stood, striding toward the minibar in the corner. "It's late. Do you drink?"
She blinked. "Sometimes."
He poured amber liquid into two glasses, sliding one across the desk toward her. "Consider it a… thank you."
She hesitated, then lifted the glass. The warmth of the whiskey burned her throat, spreading like fire through her veins.
"This isn't exactly in the job description," she muttered.
Damien's lips quirked. "Neither is being clever enough to save me from bad deals. Yet here you are."
Her heart thudded louder. "Well… I told you. I'm not just here to fetch coffee."
"No," he said softly, his eyes locking with hers. "You're not."
The way he said it made her breath hitch.
Dangerous. This was dangerous.
Elara tore her gaze away, forcing a laugh. "Careful, Mr. Kane. People might start thinking you actually like me."
His expression flickered, almost amused, almost warning. "Don't push your luck, Hart."
And just like that, the moment shattered.
But later, as she gathered her things and slipped out of his office, Elara couldn't erase the image of him leaning back, whiskey in hand, eyes dark and unreadable.
She told herself she wouldn't overthink it. That it was just a drink, just a conversation.
But deep down, she knew she'd crossed some invisible threshold.
And so had he.