The days that followed blurred into a rhythm—one Jiawen clung to like a lifeline. She threw herself into work, pouring over data, refining presentations, and meticulously coordinating with Lu Zeyan's team. The air between them remained coolly professional, but every meeting crackled with unspoken words.
Z-Tech's headquarters was a glass monolith, sleek and intimidating. She spent hours there, reviewing contracts and collaborating with department leads. But the undercurrent of tension—the memory of that night—never faded.
It was late Tuesday evening when she found herself alone in a small conference room, finalizing figures for the next day's meeting. The floor was nearly deserted, the quiet only punctuated by the distant hum of elevators.
She leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples. Her phone buzzed.
Lu Zeyan: Available now. 19th floor, office.
A shiver ran through her.
She took a breath, closed her laptop, and made her way up. The elevator ride felt like an eternity. When the doors opened, she was greeted by the soft glow of recessed lighting and the faint scent of sandalwood.
His office was at the end of the hall—an elegant, minimalist space of glass and steel. She knocked lightly, then stepped in.
Lu Zeyan was seated behind his desk, reviewing a document. His gaze lifted, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.
"Come in," he said.
She walked forward, stopping a few feet from his desk. The air seemed charged—calm, but waiting.
"I've updated the financial projections," she said, her voice even. "We're on track for a 15% increase over Q1 if the partnership goes through."
He set down the paper. "Good work."
A pause. His eyes met hers, unwavering.
"Is that all?" he asked.
She hesitated. "No… I suppose not."
His brow arched. "Then speak."
She took a breath. "Mr. Lu… Lu Zeyan. We can't let what happened before affect this project. Or how you treat me here."
He leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming lightly on the armrest. "And how do you think I've treated you?"
"Like I'm… part of a different equation." She shifted her weight, feeling exposed. "I need to know that when you look at me, it's as a colleague. Nothing else."
A faint smile curved his lips—cool, unreadable. "You're mistaken if you think I see you as anything less than capable."
"But you do see me differently," she pressed, her voice tightening. "I can feel it."
He stood slowly, the movement deliberate. He walked around the desk, stopping just a breath away from her. She refused to step back.
"Tell me," he said softly, his tone almost conversational. "When you remember that night… do you see me differently too?"
Her lips parted, but no words came out.
He didn't touch her—he didn't have to. The space between them pulsed with a heat she tried desperately to deny.
"You're right," he said finally, his voice low. "I do see you differently. And I'm not sorry for it."
She swallowed. "This isn't fair."
"Life rarely is," he murmured.
He stepped back, the distance as sudden as it was jarring. "I'll review your projections tonight. You're dismissed."
She blinked, her pulse a chaotic drumbeat in her ears. "Understood."
She turned and left the office, each step away from him feeling like a battle she was losing.
Back in her apartment that night, Jiawen stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She splashed water on her face, trying to wash away the heat in her cheeks. But it wasn't just embarrassment—it was something more dangerous.
Desire.
She was angry at herself for wanting him. Angry that he could still make her feel so seen with a single look.
Her phone buzzed again.
Lu Zeyan: The projections are solid. See you tomorrow at 9 AM.
She put her phone down, willing herself to let it go. But the memory of his nearness haunted her dreams.
The next morning, the office was alive with preparations for the final contract review. Z-Tech's legal team and her firm's senior managers gathered in the boardroom, papers stacked in neat piles. Jiawen took her seat at the end of the long table, her expression calm but her heart pounding.
Lu Zeyan entered with a measured stride, flanked by his head of legal and a senior advisor. He greeted everyone with a curt nod, then sat across from her. Their eyes met—cool, professional—but she could feel the charge humming beneath the surface.
As the meeting began, Jiawen focused on the numbers, ignoring the way his fingers tapped against the polished wood table. She answered questions crisply, matching his precision with her own. She refused to falter.
But when a break was called and the room emptied out, she stayed seated, pretending to review her notes.
He didn't move either.
Finally, he spoke, his tone deceptively casual. "You're avoiding me."
She didn't look up. "I'm not. I'm working."
He leaned forward slightly. "You're good at what you do, Shen Jiawen. But you can't pretend this doesn't affect you."
She lifted her chin. "It doesn't. Not here."
A faint smile. "I admire your focus."
She bristled. "Don't patronize me."
"I'm not." He tilted his head. "I'm warning you. This… what's between us—it's not finished."
Her breath caught. "That's not your decision to make."
"It's a fact," he said softly. "You know it as well as I do."
She forced her voice to stay calm. "What I know is that we have a contract to finalize. And that's all that matters."
He studied her, his gaze searching. "For now," he said finally.
The door opened then, and the others filed back in, oblivious to the tension crackling between them.
The meeting stretched into the afternoon. By the time the final signatures were penned, Jiawen felt both relief and exhaustion washing over her.
As everyone stood to leave, Lu Zeyan paused beside her. "Walk with me," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
She hesitated, then fell into step beside him. They exited into the quiet hallway, the buzz of the meeting fading behind them.
He stopped near the windows, the city skyline stretching beyond the glass.
"You did well today," he said. "I trust you know that."
"Thank you," she said, her tone clipped.
He turned to face her, his expression unreadable. "Why do you keep fighting this?"
"Because it's the only way to protect myself," she said quietly.
A beat of silence.
"You think I'm a danger to you?" he asked.
She swallowed. "I know you are."
His mouth quirked into a faint smile, but his eyes were serious. "Good. Keep that in mind."
She frowned. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because," he said, his voice low, "I want you to know what you're walking into."
She lifted her chin. "I can handle it."
"I don't doubt that," he said softly. "But understand this, Shen Jiawen—I won't be satisfied with just one night. And neither will you."
Her breath caught.
He stepped closer, his hand brushing her arm. Just a whisper of contact—but enough to send her pulse into overdrive.
Then he was gone, walking down the hall without another word.
She stood there, heart hammering, the echo of his words ringing in her ears.
That night, Jiawen lay awake, the city lights casting shifting patterns on her ceiling. She thought about everything he'd said—the warning, the challenge, the promise.
She knew she was playing with fire. But part of her didn't care. Part of her wanted to see just how far she could go before she burned.
The next day dawned bright and clear. Jiawen arrived early, determined to bury herself in work and keep her distance. But fate had other plans.
An urgent email from Director Liu pulled her into an impromptu strategy meeting with Z-Tech. When she arrived at the small glass-walled room, she found only Lu Zeyan inside.
He didn't look up as she entered, his attention on the documents in front of him.
She cleared her throat. "Director Liu said you needed updates?"
He glanced up, his gaze flicking over her face. "I do. Close the door."
She hesitated, then did as he asked. The click of the latch echoed in the small room.
He set down his pen. "We need to clarify a few terms in the partnership agreement. Sit."
She sat across from him, the table between them feeling both necessary and entirely inadequate.
He spoke in that low, calm tone, outlining proposed amendments. She listened carefully, jotting notes. But she could feel the shift in the air, the crackle of something unspoken beneath every word.
When he finished, he leaned back, studying her.
"You're good at this," he said. "Negotiating. Reading the room."
She swallowed. "Thank you."
His gaze didn't waver. "But I wonder… how well do you read yourself?"
She stiffened. "I know myself better than anyone."
A faint smile. "Do you?"
She didn't answer. Couldn't.
He reached across the table, his fingers brushing hers. Just for a moment. Just enough to remind her of everything she was trying to forget.
She pulled her hand back like she'd been burned.
"This isn't professional," she said, her voice tight.
"No," he agreed softly. "It isn't."
They sat in silence, the air between them heavy with all the things they weren't saying.
Finally, he stood. "We're done for now. I'll see you tomorrow."
She nodded, gathering her papers with shaking hands.
As she stepped out of the room, she realized that no matter how hard she tried to draw the line, he kept erasing it—again and again.
And the scariest part?
She was starting to want him to.
End of Chapter Four.