By midweek, Maya was fully immersed in her role at Cole Towers. She moved through emails, reports, and meetings with growing confidence, yet every task carried a shadow of awareness — Adrian Cole was always near, always watching, always assessing. And that presence had become a constant, irresistible weight on her chest.
She entered his office to find him leaning over his desk, reviewing documents, his posture relaxed yet authoritative. The sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, highlighting his sharp features. Maya's breath caught — he looked untouchable, like he belonged in a different world entirely.
"Reed," he said without looking up. "Check the projections on the Hargrove account. I need a summary before the board meeting tomorrow."
"Yes, sir," she said, moving to the laptop. As she worked, she felt his eyes on her again. It wasn't just observation anymore. There was something deeper — an intensity that made her pulse race, her fingers tremble slightly over the keyboard.
Minutes passed, filled with quiet tension. Then Adrian stepped closer to look at the spreadsheet. He leaned in, shoulder almost brushing hers. Maya felt the warmth of his body, the subtle scent of his cologne, and her focus wavered. She tried to correct a formula, but her hand shook.
"Careful," he said softly, low enough that it seemed personal. "Close enough to touch, and you could make a mistake."
Maya swallowed hard. The words sent a shiver down her spine. Was he warning her, teasing her, or… acknowledging something unspoken between them? She didn't know, and that uncertainty thrilled her and terrified her at the same time.
"I… I've got it," she whispered, forcing herself to focus.
He straightened, just slightly, enough that the heat lingering between them remained. "Good," he said quietly, his dark eyes locking with hers for a heartbeat too long. "Don't let proximity distract you. It can be dangerous."
Maya nodded, cheeks burning, her heart racing. "Yes, sir."
The silence stretched, charged and heavy. For a brief moment, neither spoke, but the room seemed smaller, tighter, as if the space between them carried its own gravity.
Finally, Adrian turned to his desk, breaking the tension. "Finish this, and we'll review it together."
Maya exhaled slowly, her chest still tight. She returned to the spreadsheet, but her hands moved faster, driven by adrenaline and a strange mix of fear and anticipation.
When she finally completed the summary, Adrian came over to review it. He leaned close again, pointing out a minor adjustment, and Maya felt the warmth of his presence more acutely than before. Their hands brushed briefly as he straightened the document on the desk.
It was a fleeting moment — too quick to be called a touch, too brief to be considered intentional — but it left both of them frozen, caught in the quiet awareness of something unspoken.
Adrian's gaze lingered on her for a heartbeat longer than necessary, then he looked away. "You've done well," he said, voice low but composed.
Maya felt a wave of relief, mixed with disappointment. Relief that she had succeeded, disappointment that the moment — that spark — had passed without acknowledgment. Yet even as she left his office, she knew the tension wasn't gone. It had only grown stronger, simmering beneath the surface, waiting for the next moment to ignite.
Outside, the city buzzed, indifferent to the storm brewing within Cole Towers. But Maya couldn't stop thinking about the brush of warmth, the intensity of his gaze, and the quiet understanding that she was dangerously close to crossing a line — a line neither of them wanted to acknowledge yet.
And deep inside, she realized something undeniable: storms could leave sparks, but those sparks could burn if you got too close.