Monday bled into Tuesday, and Tuesday into Wednesday, each day stretched taut by Dwayne's unpredictable moods. Courtney had expected his coldness after seeing her with Ethan, but what she hadn't expected was the inconsistency.
One moment he was tearing apart her work with a ruthlessness that made her want to scream. The next, he was standing close enough that she could feel the heat of him, his voice dropping low, almost… gentle.
It was maddening.
Courtney straightened the files on her desk for the third time that morning, trying to will her nerves into submission. Empire Brands' 28th floor was buzzing with energy: assistants hustling with trays of coffee, executives on their phones, the steady hum of the copy machines. This was supposed to be her world—the arena where she thrived.
But lately, it felt like she was stuck playing a game she didn't understand.
"Miss Taylor," Dwayne's voice snapped through her thoughts.
Courtney jerked her head up. He was standing in his office doorway, sharp in his charcoal suit, eyes unreadable.
"Yes, Mr. Knight?" she said, rising quickly.
"Inside. Now."
She gathered her notepad and stepped into his office. He didn't sit behind the desk this time. Instead, he leaned against it, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on her like a hawk studying prey.
"Why is the Steele campaign brief missing the revised numbers from last quarter?" he asked.
"It's not," Courtney replied evenly. "The updates are in the second appendix. Page fifteen."
For a moment, his eyes flickered—surprise, maybe?—before they hardened again. "You should've flagged it more clearly."
"I did," Courtney said, before she could stop herself. Her voice was calm, but her heart hammered.
Dwayne's jaw tightened. "Are you correcting me?"
She met his stare, refusing to back down. "I'm clarifying."
The silence stretched. She half-expected him to explode. But instead, he gave a short, humorless laugh.
"Careful, Miss Taylor. Clarification can sound a lot like defiance."
And just like that, he dismissed her with a flick of his hand, turning back to his computer.
Courtney walked out, cheeks hot, pulse racing. The man was infuriating. Impossible. And yet… part of her had thrilled at standing her ground.
📍 Later – Lincoln Park Café
Jasmine's eyes went wide as Courtney recounted the encounter over steaming mugs of coffee that evening.
"Girl," Jasmine said, slapping the table, "you talked back to Dwayne Knight? The same man whose glare makes executives twice his age wet themselves?"
Courtney groaned, burying her face in her hands. "It wasn't like that. I just—he accused me of missing something I didn't miss. I couldn't let it slide."
"That's exactly talking back." Jasmine grinned. "And let me guess—he didn't fire you."
"No." Courtney lifted her head, exasperated. "He just… looked at me. Like he couldn't decide whether to kill me or…"
"Or kiss you?" Jasmine supplied, her smile turning wicked.
Courtney choked on her tea. "Absolutely not."
"Oh, come on. The tension is practically dripping off you every time you say his name. Admit it—you care what he thinks."
Courtney bristled. "Of course I care. He's my boss. His opinion affects my career."
"Uh-huh." Jasmine leaned forward, lowering her voice. "And when he called you into his office today, did your stomach flip because you thought you were in trouble—or because you didn't know what he'd do next?"
Courtney froze. Because Jasmine was right.
She didn't know what Dwayne would do next. And that unpredictability both terrified and… thrilled her.
"Jas, this isn't a joke," Courtney said finally, shaking her head. "He's Dwayne Knight. He's cold, ruthless, impossible. And I…" She trailed off, pressing her lips together.
"You what?" Jasmine pressed.
"I don't know." Courtney sighed, tracing the rim of her mug with her finger. "Half the time I want to strangle him. The other half…"
"The other half you wonder what it would feel like if he actually let that armor crack," Jasmine finished softly.
Courtney said nothing. She didn't have to. The silence between them said enough.
📍 The Next Day – Empire Brands
The 28th floor was a whirlwind that Thursday morning. A major client meeting was scheduled, and the atmosphere crackled with urgency. Executives rushed in and out of conference rooms, assistants scrambled with folders and digital presentations.
Courtney worked like a machine, double-checking every detail. But even as she moved through her tasks, she felt his eyes on her.
Dwayne never said a word. But every time she looked up, she caught him watching—from across the room, from his office doorway, from the reflection in the glass conference wall.
She didn't know what he was thinking.
And that was the most unnerving part.
That evening, as she packed her things, Courtney paused by the window. Chicago glittered outside, alive and merciless. Somewhere out there, Ethan was probably telling someone another slick story. But Ethan didn't matter.
What mattered—too much, maybe—was the man whose moods dictated the rhythm of her days.
She pressed her forehead briefly against the glass, trying to steady herself. She wasn't supposed to feel this way. She was supposed to focus on her career, on proving herself. Not on deciphering the stormy eyes of her impossible boss.
But as she turned off her desk lamp and slipped her bag over her shoulder, she knew the truth.
She was already caught in Dwayne Knight's orbit.
And she wasn't sure she wanted to escape.