The tension in the conference room was thick enough to choke on.
Zara sat upright in her chair, hands folded neatly on the glossy mahogany table, her face calm despite the storm raging inside her chest. Around her, murmurs drifted like smoke—low, sharp, judgmental. Eyes flicked in her direction, some curious, others openly skeptical.
She had walked into this meeting already knowing something was wrong.
What she hadn't expected was this.
"Let's address the elephant in the room," Mr. Collins said, adjusting his glasses as he leaned back in his chair. His tone was smooth, but there was an edge beneath it. "There have been concerns raised regarding professionalism and favoritism within the marketing department."
Zara's stomach tightened.
Across the table, Adrian sat silently, his posture relaxed but his jaw clenched so tightly a vein pulsed at his temple. His eyes were fixed on Mr. Collins, cold and unreadable.
"Specifically," Mr. Collins continued, "the relationship between Mr. Kingsley and Ms. Okafor."
The room went still.
Zara felt heat creep up her neck, but she kept her head high. She had anticipated whispers, gossip, even resentment. What she hadn't prepared for was being dragged into a public interrogation.
"With all due respect," one of the senior executives chimed in, "many feel Ms. Okafor's recent project approvals and visibility are… influenced."
There it was.
The implication hung heavy in the air.
Zara inhaled slowly, steadying herself. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say a word, Adrian moved.
He leaned forward, placing both palms flat on the table. The sound echoed sharply through the room.
"Enough."
His voice was calm, but it carried authority—the kind that silenced conversations and commanded attention without effort.
Every eye turned to him.
"If you're going to question someone's competence," Adrian continued evenly, "then you should at least come prepared with facts."
Mr. Collins raised a brow. "Adrian, no one is attacking—"
"You are," Adrian cut in, his gaze unyielding. "You're questioning Zara Okafor's integrity and work ethic based on rumors rather than performance."
Zara's heart slammed against her ribs.
Adrian straightened, his presence commanding as he stood. "Ms. Okafor has exceeded every KPI assigned to her since joining this company. She led the Lexton campaign that increased quarterly engagement by thirty-two percent. She secured the Virex account when three senior managers failed. And she did it without my involvement."
A murmur rippled around the table.
"She earned every opportunity she received," Adrian continued. "Long before any personal association existed."
Zara stared at him, stunned.
She had grown accustomed to standing alone—defending herself, proving her worth twice over. She hadn't realized how heavy that burden was until someone else picked it up for her.
"If anyone here believes otherwise," Adrian said coolly, "I suggest you review her performance reports instead of indulging in office gossip."
The room fell into an uncomfortable silence.
Mr. Collins cleared his throat. "Of course. No one is denying her abilities, but perception matters. The company's image—"
"Then manage the perception," Adrian snapped. "Don't undermine your own talent."
His eyes flicked briefly to Zara—not soft, not smiling, but steady. Reassuring.
She felt something shift inside her chest.
Protective instinct.
Not calculated. Not strategic.
Real.
The meeting ended shortly after, the tension unresolved but undeniably altered. As executives filed out, some avoided Zara's gaze. Others looked at her with something new—respect, perhaps, or guilt.
Zara gathered her files slowly, her hands trembling just enough to betray her composure.
"Zara."
She looked up to find Adrian standing beside her.
"Walk with me."
They moved through the hallway in silence, the echo of their footsteps the only sound. When they reached his office, Adrian closed the door behind them and leaned against it, exhaling sharply.
"That shouldn't have happened," he said finally.
Zara swallowed. "It was inevitable."
"No," Adrian said, his voice firm. "It was unnecessary."
She studied his face—the tight line of his mouth, the tension in his shoulders. He looked… angry. Not cold. Not distant.
Angry on her behalf.
"You didn't have to do that," she said quietly.
Adrian met her gaze. "Yes, I did."
Something in the way he said it made her breath hitch.
"You don't owe me protection," Zara added.
"I know," he replied. "That's why it wasn't about owing."
Silence settled between them, heavier now, charged with things unsaid.
Zara crossed her arms, trying to steady herself. "You realize this will only fuel more rumors."
"I don't care."
The words came without hesitation.
She blinked. "You should."
Adrian stepped closer, his expression intense. "I care about results. I care about fairness. And I care about you being treated with the respect you deserve."
Her chest tightened painfully.
Care.
That word again.
She had heard it from him before, casually, almost dismissively. But this time, it felt different. Deeper.
More dangerous.
"This arrangement," Zara said softly, "it's already complicated."
Adrian's jaw flexed. "I know."
"And moments like this—" She gestured vaguely. "They blur lines."
He didn't deny it.
Instead, he said, "Maybe the lines were never as clear as we pretended."
Her breath caught.
For a moment, neither of them moved. The air between them felt thick, electric. Zara became acutely aware of how close he was, how his presence filled the room.
"Adrian," she whispered, unsure whether she was warning him—or herself.
He straightened abruptly, taking a step back. The moment shattered, but the tension remained.
"Go home," he said quietly. "You've had enough for one day."
Zara nodded, gathering her bag.
At the door, she paused. "Thank you," she said, her voice barely audible.
Adrian met her gaze. "Always."
She left before she could overthink it, her heart racing.
Outside, the city buzzed as usual—cars honking, people rushing, life continuing uninterrupted. But inside Zara, everything felt different.
For the first time, she wasn't just pretending to be protected.
She was.
And somewhere deep down, she realized something terrifying.
She liked it.
Back in his office, Adrian stood by the window long after she'd gone, his reflection staring back at him.
He hadn't planned to defend her like that.
It hadn't been strategy.
It hadn't been logic.
It had been instinct.
And that scared him more than any rumor ever could.
Because it meant the lie was no longer just a lie.
And the truth—whatever it was becoming—was already too close.