Previously on From Tomboy to Temptation:
Mia Thompson started her first day at Hale Enterprises — determined, nervous, and unaware that her new boss was the man she thought she'd never see again. Ryker Hale. Their eyes met across glass walls, tension sparking like a live wire. By the end of the day, he'd promised one thing: "I'll be watching."
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The next morning came too fast.
Mia barely slept — tossing between sheets, her mind replaying that moment at the office entrance. His voice. His eyes. The way his gaze stripped through her composure like light cutting glass. She'd sworn that night was a mistake she'd forget. But how did you forget a man like Ryker Hale?
By 8:00 a.m., she was already at her desk, clutching a steaming cup of coffee like a shield. The office hummed softly — phones ringing, keyboards tapping. Everyone seemed composed, except her. Every sound felt too sharp, every movement too loud.
"Early start?" Jordan's familiar voice broke her spiral.
"Just… wanted to be prepared," she said, trying to sound casual.
He smirked, leaning on her desk. "Prepared or hiding from someone?"
Mia glared lightly, but he only chuckled. "Relax, new girl. You'll be fine. Hale's strict, but he notices hard work. Just don't get on his bad side."
Too late, she thought grimly. She'd already been on his bed — and now under his supervision.
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By mid-morning, the department buzzed with pressure. A major campaign presentation was due — Horizon Cosmetics, one of the firm's biggest clients. The creative team had fallen behind, and the deadline loomed over everyone like a thundercloud.
"Mia, you're helping with the proposal drafts," her manager, Lila, said briskly. "We're missing visuals and taglines. Can you handle it?"
Mia blinked. "Yes, of course."
Good. No hesitation. This was her chance to prove she belonged here — not as the girl with a past mistake, but as someone capable.
She dove into work, fingers flying over her keyboard. Hours blurred. She researched, designed, wrote, and rewrote. By lunch, her coffee was cold, her stomach empty, but her mind burned with focus.
That's when Ryker appeared.
He walked through the floor with silent authority, a tall figure in tailored charcoal, his expression unreadable. The chatter dimmed; even the air seemed to shift around him. He stopped near her desk, eyes scanning her screen briefly before landing on her face.
"You're contributing to the Horizon project?"
"Yes, Mr. Hale," she said quickly, sitting straighter.
"Show me."
Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest. She turned the monitor toward him, scrolling through her work — taglines, concept boards, color palettes.
He said nothing for a moment. Then, quietly: "You wrote this line?"
"'Unveil Your True Glow'?" she asked. "Yes."
A faint, almost imperceptible nod. "It's clean. Confident. Keep it."
Then, without another word, he walked off toward the conference room.
Mia exhaled shakily. Around her, Jordan whispered, "Whoa. Approval from Hale on your second day? That's a miracle."
But Mia wasn't celebrating. Because even from across the room, she could feel his presence — like he was still watching her through those glass walls.
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By late afternoon, tension filled the air again. The client wanted early drafts — and fast. The creative director was out sick, leaving Lila in charge. Mia volunteered to finalize the digital deck.
By the time most employees left, the lights dimmed, and the office grew quieter, she was still there, adjusting slides and color tones. The hum of the city below echoed faintly through the windows.
She didn't notice Ryker step out of his office until his reflection appeared in the glass.
"You're still here," he said.
Mia froze. "I… wanted to finish the presentation before tomorrow."
He folded his arms, gaze settling on her screen. "You're ambitious."
"Just trying to make a good impression," she said softly.
He gave a small, unreadable smile. "You already did."
The silence between them thickened — not uncomfortable, but charged. The overhead lights glinted off the glass walls, turning the room into a world of faint reflections and shadows.
Mia looked down at her hands. "I didn't expect to see you again after… that night."
His eyes flickered, sharp but not cold. "Neither did I."
Her pulse quickened. "And yet here we are."
"Here we are," he echoed, voice low.
For a long moment, neither spoke. The hum of the city felt distant, drowned by something electric between them. Then the monitor dimmed to black, and the lights flickered — the automatic timers signaling it was past working hours.
Darkness spilled softly across the office, leaving them half-illuminated by the skyline glow.
"Guess we worked too late," she said, forcing a laugh that came out thinner than she meant.
Ryker's voice dropped an octave. "You should go home. It's late."
"I will. Just—one more slide."
He didn't move. He stood beside her, close enough that she could feel the warmth of him, the faint scent of cedar and something darker. Her fingers trembled on the mouse.
When she finally turned to speak, he was watching her — not as her boss, but as the man who remembered the same night she did.
"Mia," he said quietly.
The sound of her name on his lips made her heart stutter. "Yes?"
His gaze softened — just a little. "Be careful how hard you work. Some things are worth the wait."
And then he stepped back, the distance returning like a snapped thread.
The lights blinked out completely for a second. In that instant of darkness, she felt him move past her — too close, too real. Her breath caught.
When the lights returned, he was already at the door, hand on the frame.
"Goodnight, Ms. Thompson."
Before she could reply, he was gone.
Mia sank back into her chair, pulse racing, a strange ache curling in her chest. She glanced at the glass wall separating his office from hers — his silhouette faint against the glow of the city, still watching even when the world had gone dark.
Something inside her whispered that this was only the beginning.
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