Courtney sat stiffly at her desk, the fluorescent lights overhead humming like an accusation. Her fingers hovered above her keyboard, but the words on the screen blurred. She tried to focus on drafting the proposal for the Blackwood campaign, but her mind kept circling back to her boss's tone.
Cold. Cutting.
Something had shifted that morning. Dwayne Knight had always been demanding—arrogant, even—but never quite like this. The way he'd snapped at her over the scheduling mix-up, the way he'd twisted his mouth around the word "assistant" like it was an insult. And then that pointed jab about coffee.
Her stomach turned.
He'd seen her with Ethan.
Courtney clenched her jaw and forced herself to keep typing, but her thoughts kept slipping back. She hadn't even wanted to meet Ethan. He'd texted her out of nowhere on Sunday night, asking if they could "catch up." Against her better judgment, she'd agreed—half out of curiosity, half because she wanted closure.
But closure hadn't been what Ethan was after.
Flashback – That Morning
They'd chosen a café near the office, one with big windows and the smell of fresh croissants. Courtney had arrived early, sipping her latte while scanning through her phone. When Ethan showed up, he looked exactly the same: expensive watch, slicked-back hair, that charming smile that once made her heart skip.
But the smile felt practiced now. Stale.
"So," Ethan had said, leaning across the table, "how's Chicago treating you? Still climbing the corporate ladder?"
Courtney had smiled politely. "Something like that. I'm with Empire Brands now."
His eyebrows had risen. "Empire? That's… impressive. Didn't think you'd end up working under Dwayne Knight of all people."
The way he said it made her bristle. "Why not?"
Ethan shrugged. "He has a reputation. Ruthless. Controlling. Not exactly the kind of guy I'd picture you working for."
Courtney had forced a laugh. "You don't know me as well as you think."
But before she could redirect the conversation, Ethan had reached across the table, brushing his hand against hers. Too familiar. Too presumptuous.
She'd pulled back quickly, covering the movement with a sip of coffee. He'd noticed, of course. His smile had faltered for a second, before he recovered with some quip about old times.
And then, just as she was about to leave, he'd stepped closer on the sidewalk, invading her personal space in a way that made her spine stiffen. She'd been opening her mouth to tell him off—firmly, finally—when she'd felt eyes on her.
She hadn't turned, but she knew.
Dwayne.
The memory made Courtney's cheeks flush even now. He'd seen them. And he'd drawn his own conclusions.
"Miss Taylor," came his voice from his office doorway.
Courtney's head snapped up. Dwayne stood there, tall and unreadable, one hand braced against the doorframe. His gaze skimmed over her before he said flatly, "The Steele files. Bring them in."
"Yes, Mr. Knight," she replied automatically.
As she gathered the folders, she bit back a sigh. This was going to be a long day.
By the time five o'clock rolled around, Courtney felt wrung out. Dwayne had been on edge all day, his critiques sharp, his silences even sharper. She hated that it bothered her—that his opinion of her carried weight. But it did.
She needed to breathe.
She needed Jasmine.
📍 Lincoln Park Café
The bell over the café door jingled as Courtney stepped inside, shaking off the cold. The cozy place was a stark contrast to Empire Tower—warm lighting, wood tables, the smell of cinnamon. She spotted Jasmine immediately, waving from a corner booth.
Jasmine was everything Courtney wasn't: bold, vibrant, impossible to ignore. Tonight she wore a bright red sweater that made her caramel skin glow, and her curls framed her face like a halo.
"Girl," Jasmine said as Courtney slid into the seat across from her. "You look like you just went twelve rounds with Mike Tyson."
Courtney let out a humorless laugh. "Close enough. More like eight hours with Dwayne Knight."
"Oof." Jasmine winced in sympathy. "What did the Ice King do this time?"
Courtney groaned, covering her face with her hands. "He saw me with Ethan this morning."
Jasmine's eyebrows shot up. "Wait—Ethan Ethan? As in your ex, the Wall Street wannabe?"
"The very same," Courtney muttered. "He asked to meet. I thought I could finally put the past to bed. But of course, he tried to charm his way back in, and just my luck, Dwayne drives by at the exact worst moment."
"Oh no." Jasmine leaned forward, eyes wide with delight. "And let me guess—he thinks you two were rekindling something."
"Exactly." Courtney dropped her head onto the table. "Now he's been treating me like dirt all day. Not that he didn't before, but… this is different. Colder. Meaner."
Jasmine smirked. "Sounds like jealousy to me."
Courtney's head shot up. "Jealousy? Please. Dwayne Knight doesn't get jealous. He barely gets human."
"Uh-huh." Jasmine sipped her chai latte. "You forget, I've seen the way he looks at you."
"He doesn't look at me."
"He does. Like he's trying not to." Jasmine tilted her head knowingly. "Classic repressed rich boy behavior. He doesn't know what to do with feelings, so he lashes out instead."
Courtney groaned again. "This is not a rom-com, Jas. This is my career. And if he thinks I'm some… some distracted little girl pining after an ex, he's going to use it against me."
Jasmine's expression softened. "So tell him the truth."
Courtney hesitated, stirring her tea. "And say what? 'Oh, by the way, Mr. Knight, my ex ambushed me and I totally rejected him'? He'd just think I'm making excuses."
"Maybe. Or maybe he'll realize he's being an ass."
Courtney gave her friend a flat look. "You don't know Dwayne Knight."
"Maybe not," Jasmine said, leaning back. "But I know you. And I know you don't let anyone walk all over you for long. Not even your boss."
Courtney sighed. Jasmine was right, of course. But facing Dwayne—explaining herself to him—felt dangerously close to vulnerability. And vulnerability wasn't something she could afford in the cutthroat world of Empire Brands.
Still, as she looked out the café window at the glittering city, Courtney couldn't shake the thought: Why does it matter so much what he thinks of me?
Later That Night
Back in her apartment—a modest but stylish two-bedroom in River North—Courtney curled up on the couch with her laptop. She tried to focus on tomorrow's tasks, but her mind drifted again.
She thought about Dwayne, about the way his jaw tightened when he looked at her, about the flash of something—anger, hurt, maybe even longing—she thought she'd seen in his eyes before he masked it.
She hated that she noticed.
She hated that part of her cared.
When her phone buzzed with a text from Jasmine—"Don't let him get in your head. He's just a man. And men crack."—Courtney smiled faintly.
Maybe.
But if Dwayne Knight cracked, Courtney had a feeling the fallout would be like nothing she'd ever seen before.