Previously on From Tomboy to Temptation:
Mia and Ryker shared a fleeting, unguarded moment that left sparks neither could ignore. But with every glance and subtle touch, the walls between them begin to crumble — and the office eyes aren't as blind as they think.
The next morning, Mia arrived at Hale Enterprises with her usual early-bird determination — but something felt different. The air seemed heavier, electric, as if everyone knew something she didn't. Even the hum of the fluorescent lights sounded like it carried whispers.
"Morning, Mia!" Lila chirped as she passed by, a teasing lilt in her voice.
"Morning," Mia replied cautiously, tugging her cardigan tighter.
Lila paused by her desk, leaning in close as if sharing a secret. "So… last night was… interesting, huh?"
Mia's heart skipped. "Interesting? What do you mean?"
"You know," Lila said, eyes glinting mischievously. "You and… him. People are talking."
Her chest tightened, a mixture of embarrassment and thrill. "Talking about what?"
Lila shrugged, her grin widening. "Exactly. That's the fun part."
Mia blinked, unsure whether to laugh or panic. She had no idea who had seen what, and the thought of office gossip made her stomach twist.
---
Jordan, always two steps ahead when it came to teasing, didn't waste any time noticing her discomfort. "So, Thompson," he drawled, leaning against a desk nearby, "looks like you're the new center of attention."
"I've done nothing!" Mia muttered, but the blush creeping up her neck betrayed her.
"Exactly," he said, smirking. "Which makes it… interesting."
Her pulse quickened at the reminder of Ryker. She couldn't stop thinking about the fleeting softness in his gaze last night, the way his mask had cracked, if only for a second.
---
By mid-morning, the whispers weren't whispers anymore — they were glances, subtle nudges, and muffled chuckles as she walked past colleagues. Mia kept her head down, fingers flying over her keyboard, heart hammering as she tried to focus.
From the corner of her eye, she noticed Ryker. He wasn't staring in the obvious, predatory way some executives did — no, his gaze was measured, analytical, almost unreadable. Yet she felt it everywhere she went. Every time she thought she was safe, she'd catch the hint of him watching from behind the glass walls of his office.
She shook her head. Focus, Mia. You're here to work.
---
Lunch brought no relief. Mia retreated to the small cafeteria, tray in hand, only to find Jordan and a couple of coworkers hovering nearby.
"Careful," Jordan warned, leaning casually against the counter. "You're making quite the impression. People notice."
"I don't want to make an impression," Mia said, trying to sound firm.
"Oh, I think you already have," Jordan said, eyes twinkling with amusement. "And honestly… I've never seen Ryker Hale like this with anyone. Ever."
Mia froze mid-bite. "What do you mean?"
"Meaning," Jordan said slowly, savoring the tease, "that guy is all business, all control. But with you? Something's different. People are talking — quietly, of course — but they notice."
She bit her lip, unsure whether to feel alarmed or… flattered. The truth was, part of her didn't want him to notice at all. Yet another part — a part she tried to bury — thrilled at the thought.
---
The afternoon brought a department meeting, and the tension of the morning seemed to follow her into the glass-walled conference room. Ryker walked in with his usual calm authority, commanding the room with measured confidence. Every glance, every subtle shift in his posture, drew attention — including hers.
As the team discussed upcoming campaigns, Mia felt the weight of his gaze like a physical presence. She dared not meet it for too long, but when she did, she saw something rare: a flicker of intensity that bordered on… possessive.
She glanced down at her notebook, trying to focus, but her mind drifted to the previous night — his voice, low and controlled, yet vulnerable. You have potential, Mia. Real potential.
The memory made her pulse quicken. She reminded herself: This is the office. Keep it professional.
---
After the meeting, Mia walked toward the break room to grab a coffee, only to find a group of coworkers lingering near the vending machine.
"Hey, Thompson," one said, with a sly smile, "how's it working out being… noticed?"
Mia blinked. "Noted… by whom?"
"Oh, you know," the coworker said airily. "Someone in the corner office who doesn't usually… notice anyone."
Her stomach tightened. The tension was thick, almost suffocating, yet intoxicating. She wanted to run, hide, deny everything — but part of her longed to stay, to see him again, to feel the subtle heat whenever their paths crossed.
---
Evening came, and the office thinned. The rain returned, a soft drizzle painting the city in muted silver. Mia stayed late, reviewing campaign mockups and double-checking spreadsheets. She worked with methodical focus, trying to ignore the quiet hum of the building and the lingering awareness that someone was watching.
Then the office door opened.
Ryker appeared, sleeves rolled, jacket off, a hint of exhaustion around his eyes. The aura of authority was still there, but something softer lingered beneath the surface.
"You're still here," he said, voice lower than usual.
"I'm finishing up," she replied, heart hammering.
"Don't overdo it," he said, almost gently. "Some things can wait."
Their eyes met, and for a moment, the hum of the office faded. No glass walls, no coworkers, just the tension between them — palpable, charged, and dangerous.
"You did well today," he added, softer this time.
"Thank you," she whispered.
His gaze lingered. "You have potential, Mia. Real potential. Don't let anyone — including me — intimidate that out of you."
Her chest tightened. "You don't intimidate me."
He almost smiled, a small, fleeting curve of his lips. "Liar."
---
Mia stood, gathering her things, but the air between them refused to settle. She stepped past him toward the elevator and brushed his arm — an accidental touch, but enough to make him pause.
For a heartbeat, their eyes locked: hers wide, his conflicted, a war of instinct and restraint flickering across his face.
Then the elevator bell dinged. He stepped back, voice calm again. "Goodnight, Ms. Thompson."
She nodded, barely able to speak. "Goodnight, Mr. Hale."
---
The rain pelted the city outside as Mia rode down in the elevator, her mind a whirlwind of curiosity, fear, and something dangerously close to desire. She couldn't stop thinking about him, about the subtle cracks in his armor she'd glimpsed — and the effect it had on her.
Meanwhile, Ryker stood alone in his office, watching her reflection in the mirrored elevator doors. He poured himself a drink, fingers tightening around the glass, thoughts chasing the memory of her warmth, her fire, her fearless defiance.
What are you doing to me, Mia Thompson? he muttered under his breath. The words disappeared into the hum of the office, unanswered.
---
The next morning, whispers had grown louder. Office gossip spread like wildfire, and Mia noticed subtle stares, hushed conversations, and sly smiles wherever she went. Lila tried to shield her from it, but even she couldn't stop the current of attention.
Jordan pulled her aside, voice low and teasing. "Careful, Mia. You're not just on the radar anymore — you're on the map."
"What map?" she asked, exasperated.
"You'll see," he said, smirking. "Just… be careful. Some lines shouldn't be crossed in an office, no matter how tempting the view is."
---
By mid-afternoon, the tension reached a new peak. Mia was reviewing a client presentation when Ryker appeared again, leaning lightly against the glass wall of her office. His gaze was intense, unwavering, almost challenging her resolve.
"Do you ever sleep?" she asked, attempting a smile.
"Sometimes," he replied, almost dryly. "But lately, my thoughts keep me awake."
Her stomach tightened. "Your thoughts?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he handed her a folder. Their fingers brushed for a split second, sending a spark up her arm. She felt heat creep up her neck, a fluttering in her chest that refused to be denied.
---
By evening, the office was nearly empty. Mia packed her bag slowly, reluctant to leave the charged atmosphere behind. Rain streaked the windows again, and she paused, staring out at the blurred cityscape.
Ryker appeared beside her, coat draped over his arm. "You should go," he said softly, almost a whisper.
"Go?" she echoed, heart thundering.
"Before it gets messy," he murmured. "Some things are better kept… private."
Her chest tightened, a heady mix of relief and longing. "Private?"
"Yes," he said, voice low, deliberate. "Because I don't trust the rest of the world with you."
Mia swallowed, aware of the gravity in his words, and for a fleeting moment, she wondered if she should run. But she didn't. She couldn't.
---
As she left, the elevator mirrors reflected him one last time: watching, waiting, and silently wishing he could let go of the walls he'd built. Somewhere deep inside, both of them knew the rules were already broken — and the whispers in the dark were just beginning.