Jeslyne buried herself in work, her office becoming her fortress. Days passed in a blur of tasks, emails, and reports as she carefully plotted her schedule to avoid meetings where Rolland Williams might be present. Whenever an in-person presentation was required, she conveniently scheduled herself for field trips, site visits, or remote calls. It wasn't entirely unnatural—her role often required her to be out of the office—but now, every trip felt like an escape.
She needed time. Time to steady herself, to regain control of her emotions. There was something about the way Rolland looked at her—intense, unwavering—that unraveled her carefully maintained composure. She couldn't afford to lose herself like that, especially not in front of him.
He was her boss, a man of immense power and influence. The tabloids loved to follow his every move, dubbing him one of the city's most eligible bachelors. She had no intention of becoming gossip fodder or, worse, a cautionary tale in the company's HR manual.
Her resolve, however, was tested when a task required her to deliver a stack of files to his office. She had waited until late in the evening, after most of the office had emptied, ensuring there was little chance of running into him. A junior assistant had assured her,
"Mr. Williams left for the day,"
and she took it as her cue to proceed.
---
Jeslyne entered Rolland's office cautiously, balancing the files in one hand as she nudged the door open. The room was dimly lit, the warm glow of a single desk lamp casting long shadows across the space. She stepped inside, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor.
"I thought you had left for the day," she murmured absentmindedly, assuming the room was empty.
"I did," came a smooth, deep voice.
Jeslyne froze, the files slipping slightly in her grip as she turned toward the source of the voice. Rolland stood near the window, his silhouette framed by the city lights outside. His jacket was draped over the back of his chair, the sleeves of his crisp white shirt rolled up, revealing strong forearms. He looked effortlessly composed, but the faint crease in his brow suggested a long day.
"I—I'm so sorry," she stammered, clutching the files to her chest. "I didn't mean to intrude. I was told you weren't here."
Rolland's dark eyes fixed on her, his expression unreadable. "Interesting," he said, his voice measured. "And why does it sound like you've been waiting for me to leave?"
Jeslyne felt her cheeks flush. "That's not—it's not like that," she protested, but her words faltered under his piercing gaze.
"Is that so?" he asked, stepping closer. His tone wasn't accusatory, but there was a quiet curiosity in his voice, as though he was trying to unravel her intentions.
Jeslyne took a step back, her heart racing. "I just thought it would be more efficient if I left these after hours. I didn't mean—"
"Efficient," he echoed, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You've been avoiding me, haven't you, Miss Timer?"
The use of her professional title grounded her, reminding her of the boundaries that existed between them. She straightened her posture, meeting his gaze as evenly as she could manage. "That's not true," she lied, though her voice betrayed her unease.
Rolland studied her for a moment, his expression softening slightly. "You're not very good at lying," he said quietly.
Jeslyne blinked, startled by the gentleness in his tone. For a moment, she thought she saw something in his eyes—something that mirrored the confusion and curiosity she felt. But she couldn't dwell on it.
"I'll leave these here," she said quickly, placing the files on his desk. "Goodnight, Mr. Williams."
Before he could respond, she turned and left the office, her footsteps quick and deliberate. She didn't stop until she was back in the sanctuary of her own space, her chest heaving as she tried to calm the storm of emotions inside her.
---
Jeslyne lay motionless, her chest rising and falling with measured breaths as she stared into the dark. The hum of the city beyond her window was a faint whisper, a world away from the tempest swirling in her mind. Every time she closed her eyes, Rolland's face appeared—those piercing eyes, the smirk that was more a challenge than a smile, the effortless authority in the way he moved.
Her fingers toyed absently with the edge of her blanket as she replayed their interaction in his office. She remembered the slight tilt of his head when he asked why she was avoiding him, as if he already knew the answer but wanted to hear it from her lips. The heat of her embarrassment had been almost unbearable, yet a part of her—the part she didn't want to acknowledge—was drawn to his attention, his scrutiny.
"What is wrong with me?" she whispered into the quiet. She wasn't some naïve intern crushing on her boss; she was a professional. She had worked hard to earn her position, and the last thing she needed was to be distracted by...him.
Yet, even as she tried to dismiss the thought, she couldn't shake the memory of his scent—a heady mix of citrus and sandalwood that lingered in the air long after she'd left his office. It was maddening, the way such a small detail could hold her captive.
---
Meanwhile, Rolland sat in his dimly lit living room, the faint crackle of the fireplace the only sound in the spacious, minimalist space. He swirled the wine in his glass, his gaze unfocused as he stared at the flickering flames.
Jeslyne's face lingered in his mind, her wide eyes filled with a mixture of surprise and...something else. Fear? No, it wasn't fear, he thought. It was apprehension. As if she were grappling with some internal battle that had nothing to do with him, and yet everything to do with him.
He smirked, setting the glass down on the table beside him. She was avoiding him, that much was clear. What intrigued him was why. Most employees sought his attention, if not to curry favor, then to secure their place in the hierarchy. Jeslyne, however, seemed to recoil from it, retreating into her shell like a startled bird.
It wasn't just her avoidance that intrigued him. It was the way she carried herself—poised yet unassuming, her sharp mind evident in every project she handled. And then there was that moment tonight, when she had met his gaze in the office. Her resolve had faltered for the briefest second, her walls cracking just enough for him to see a flicker of vulnerability.
That flicker had stirred something in him, something he wasn't used to feeling.
He leaned back into the plush cushions of his couch, running a hand through his hair. He had spent years cultivating control—in his business, in his relationships, in himself. But Jeslyne... Jeslyne made him feel like he was standing on uneven ground, and he wasn't sure whether to pull back or step closer.
-----
Jeslyne turned onto her side, clutching the pillow tightly against her chest. She needed to let this go. Whatever strange pull she felt toward Rolland Williams was nothing more than an inconvenient distraction. He was her boss. Full stop.
But as she closed her eyes, her mind betrayed her. She saw him again, this time in flashes—his shirt sleeves rolled up, the faint crease in his brow, the quiet intensity of his voice as he said, "You've been avoiding me, haven't you?"
Her cheeks burned at the memory. She groaned, turning onto her back and staring at the ceiling again.
"Nope," she muttered, flinging the pillow over her face. "This is ridiculous."
----
Rolland's thoughts were no less tumultuous as he changed into a fresh pair of pajama pants and a plain black T-shirt. He poured himself another glass of wine, staring out at the glittering city skyline.
For years, he had kept his relationships superficial, preferring to keep his personal life separate from his professional one. Yet Jeslyne's presence in his office earlier had lingered with him, her flustered explanation playing over and over in his mind.
She had called him "Mr. Williams" with such precision, yet there had been something personal in the way she said it, as if she were trying to remind herself of the boundaries between them. He chuckled softly at the thought, lifting the glass to his lips.
His family's chaos earlier in the evening had already left him on edge, and now, thoughts of Jeslyne only added to the restless energy that coursed through him. The wine didn't help. It wasn't enough to silence the questions swirling in his mind.
Why had she left the files so late? Why had her voice trembled when she said his name? Why, of all the people he encountered daily, did she linger in his thoughts?
With a frustrated sigh, he set the glass down and raked a hand through his hair. Perhaps it was nothing—just a fleeting fascination with someone new, someone different. But as he stood there, staring out at the city, he couldn't help but wonder: was she thinking about him, too?
Jeslyne shifted under the covers, her heart racing despite the stillness of the room. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't banish the image of him from her mind—the way his shirt clung to his broad shoulders, the intensity of his gaze as he questioned her.
She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to stop. She was being ridiculous, letting her imagination run wild over a man who likely didn't even remember their brief encounters.
But deep down, she knew that wasn't true.
She sighed, turning onto her side again. Sleep wouldn't come easily tonight, and she suspected it wouldn't come for him either.