The morning light slipped softly through the half-drawn curtains, brushing against Olivia's face and nudging her awake.
For a long moment, she lay still, caught between dreams and reality. Her mind was foggy, still wrapped in the warm haze of sleep. She felt soft sheets beneath her fingers — smooth, cool, and definitely not the rough fabric of a sofa.
She frowned faintly, blinking herself into focus.
And then she froze.
Her surroundings came into sharp view: the soft beige curtains, the elegantly carved headboard, the neatly arranged nightstand beside her.
She was in bed.
In bed.
Her brain took a full three seconds to process the horror of that realization.
Her eyes widened; she sat up abruptly, clutching the duvet like it was her last defense.
"Wait… what the—" she whispered, heart pounding. "I was on the sofa."
The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioner. But when her gaze slid toward the sofa, she noticed the duvet and pillow — the ones she had used last night — were neatly folded and stacked at one end.
Her mouth fell open slightly.
"How…?" she breathed.
And then, she heard it — the sound of running water.
A shower.
Her eyes darted toward the closed bathroom door, and realization dawned on her like a flash of lightning.
"No way…" she whispered.
Her heart started hammering wildly. He didn't. He couldn't have. He—
"Oh god, he did!"
Her face turned crimson. The thought of Aiden Ashford, of all people, lifting her up from the sofa and putting her on the bed — carefully, silently — sent her mind into a whirlwind of mortified panic.
"Why does he even have to be so… so—" She stopped herself, pressing her palms to her burning cheeks. "No, Olivia, don't even go there!"
But her mind betrayed her. Images she didn't want surfaced anyway — Aiden's calm face in the dim light, his strong arms lifting her effortlessly, the faint scent of his cologne when he leaned close—
She covered her face with the blanket. "I'm going to die of embarrassment," she whispered into the sheets.
Just then, the sound of the shower stopped. The water dripped to silence, followed by the faint sound of the bathroom door opening.
Olivia peeked over the blanket.
Aiden walked out, already dressed in a crisp white shirt and black slacks, his tie loose around his neck as he towel-dried his hair. He looked impossibly composed, as if he hadn't just caused her heart to malfunction.
When his gaze landed on her, his brows furrowed. "You're awake," he said, voice calm as ever. Then his frown deepened. "You're red. Are you feeling alright?"
Olivia flinched at his voice, yanking the duvet up to her chin. "I—I'm fine!"
Aiden walked closer, unconvinced. "You look feverish."
"I'm not!"
But he was already beside the bed, leaning closer to inspect her face. His proximity made her pulse spike uncontrollably.
"You're definitely red," he said, reaching out to place a cool hand against her forehead.
Olivia froze. Her entire system short-circuited at the touch.
"She's burning up," Aiden muttered under his breath, brows drawing together in concern. "You might have caught a chill from sleeping on the sofa last night."
Olivia's brain barely registered his words. All she could think about was the fact that Aiden Ashford's hand was on her forehead, and he was way too close — close enough for her to see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw, the sharp lines of his cheekbones, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he exhaled.
Her breath hitched. "I-I'm fine," she stuttered, voice barely a whisper. "It's not a fever. I just… feel a bit hot."
Aiden's frown deepened. "You look hot. You should rest. I'll ask someone to bring up medicine—"
Before he could finish, Olivia bolted up, clutching her clothes. "N-No need! I'm perfectly fine! I'll just, um… freshen up!"
And she darted into the bathroom before he could say another word.
Aiden stood there, momentarily confused, watching the door slam behind her.
He muttered under his breath, "It's not even warm in here."
In the safety of the bathroom, Olivia leaned against the door, heart pounding like a drum. She could still feel the ghost of his hand on her skin.
"Why… why does he have to do that?" she whispered to herself, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her cheeks were crimson. "Get it together, Olivia Bennett! He's your boss, not… whatever your brain is imagining."
She splashed cold water on her face — twice — before finally pulling herself together enough to shower and get dressed.
When she stepped out, Aiden was standing near the window, phone pressed to his ear. His voice was low, clipped, professional.
"Yes, I've confirmed the morning meeting," he was saying. "We'll review the proposals before lunch."
Olivia stayed quiet, not wanting to interrupt.
When he ended the call, he turned to her immediately. "Breakfast?"
She blinked. "Oh—yes, of course."
"The hotel has a restaurant on the third floor," Aiden explained as they stepped into the hallway.
"Right," she murmured, walking beside him.
The elevator ride was silent, save for the soft music playing overhead. Olivia risked a glance at him — his usual calm mask was firmly in place, but there was something gentler about his tone this morning. Or maybe she was imagining it.
The restaurant was bright and modern, with large windows overlooking the city. The aroma of fresh pastries and coffee filled the air.
They chose a corner table near the window. Olivia picked at her omelet, sneaking glances at Aiden every few minutes. He looked far too composed for someone who had just carried his employee to bed the night before.
Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. "You didn't have to move me," she said quietly.
Aiden looked up from his cup. "You were uncomfortable."
"I was fine."
"You were drooling on the cushion," he said flatly.
Olivia's jaw dropped. "I—what?!"
His lips twitched — barely, but enough for her to catch it. "It's fine. I had the staff clean it this morning."
Her face turned scarlet. "You—! Ugh!"
He took another sip of coffee, clearly amused. "Consider it part of your employee privileges."
"You're unbelievable," she muttered, stabbing her fork into her food.
He smiled faintly. "So I've been told."
After breakfast, they headed to the Euphorian Maison Company headquarters, where a day full of meetings awaited.
Han Daejin greeted them warmly, leading them to a sleek conference room where presentations were already prepared. After hours of discussions, negotiations, and planning, Han offered their team a separate workspace within the building.
By the time the final meeting ended, the sun was already dipping low.
Aiden dismissed the rest of the team, his tone composed but visibly tired. Olivia, however, refused to leave her desk. She was reviewing financial figures, cross-checking data for the next day.
Aiden noticed. "Olivia," he said, standing beside her. "You've been at that screen for hours. Take a break."
"I'm almost done," she murmured, rubbing her temple.
He exhaled softly, but didn't argue.
By the time she finally stood up, the rest of the office was empty. She felt a faint dizziness as she packed her things, but brushed it off. "Just tired," she told herself.
That night, after dinner back at the hotel, they stood again in front of the same shared room.
"I'll take the sofa again," Aiden said calmly.
Olivia frowned. "No, you already did last night. I'll take it this time."
"Olivia," he said, his tone dipping into that quiet authority that always made her stop arguing. "You're not sleeping on the sofa."
"And you're not either," she shot back. "You're taller. You won't even fit!"
His jaw ticked, a faint amusement flickering in his eyes. "Then what do you suggest?"
She crossed her arms. "We'll… figure something out."
Aiden arched an eyebrow. "Such as?"
Olivia hesitated, then muttered, "The bed's big enough. We could just… you know… stay on our sides."
Silence.
Aiden blinked slowly. "You want to share the bed?"
Her face turned bright red. "Don't make it sound weird!"
"I didn't say anything."
"You're thinking it."
He gave her a faint smirk. "Maybe."
She groaned, throwing a pillow at him — which he caught effortlessly, laughing softly.
It was the first time she had heard him laugh — really laugh. Not the polite, cold one from the office, but a genuine, low chuckle that made her heart skip.
She turned away quickly, muttering, "Just… don't cross over to my side."
Aiden's lips curved faintly. "Noted."
As they both settled into bed — a careful distance between them — Olivia stared at the ceiling, her mind racing.
Somewhere beside her, Aiden whispered, just loud enough for her to hear,
"Goodnight, Olivia."
She froze. Her lips parted, then curved slightly.
"Goodnight, Aiden."
Neither of them slept easily that night — both pretending to rest, while their thoughts quietly betrayed them.