The city skyline was a dull silver haze outside my office window, washed in early morning light that hadn't quite committed to being day. It was seven-thirty, and I'd already been here for an hour. My team wouldn't start rolling in for another thirty minutes, maybe forty if traffic was bad, which meant I had a small window to breathe except breathing didn't come easy today.
I'd buried myself under the avalanche of work with the precision of a surgeon. Emails. Reports. Investor decks that needed my signature. Every folder, every PDF was another wall between me and what happened last night.
What almost happened.
I forced my attention to the glowing spreadsheet in front of me. Revenue projections. Quarterlies. Real numbers are the kind of thing I could trust, unlike fleeting sparks on a rain-soaked street or smiles that felt too dangerous.
My fingers flew across the keyboard, moving cells like pieces on a chessboard. Focus, Oriana. You made a promise. You don't need anyone. Least of all him.
I sipped my coffee. It had gone cold an hour ago, but I didn't notice. My phone sat on the corner of the desk like a viper I refused to look at, though my eyes flicked toward it every few seconds anyway. Ridiculous. He didn't have my number. He didn't…
I exhaled sharply and slammed my laptop shut.
This was pathetic.
I rose and paced the office, heels clicking against marble, the rhythm of control. Outside my glass walls, the skyline stared back, smug and glittering in the distance like it knew something I didn't.
"Ms. Vale?"
Anna, my assistant, appeared at the door, her soft knock barely audible over my thoughts. She held her tablet like a shield.
"Yes?" I tried to sound like a woman who hadn't been dissecting her life for the past two hours.
"There's someone here to see you."
I frowned. "At eight in the morning? Who?"
She hesitated, which was my first red flag. Anna never hesitated. "He didn't give a name. Just said you'd want to see him."
You'd want to see him.
My pulse tripped over itself. It couldn't be. No. Absolutely not.
I smoothed my blazer, the fabric suddenly too tight against my skin. "Send him in."
Anna nodded and disappeared.
The door opened again seconds later, and the air shifted.
It was him.
Skillar walked into my office like he owned the place. Tall, broad-shouldered, wearing confidence like it was custom-tailored. His jacket was slung casually over one arm, his white shirt rolled at the sleeves like he'd come from a photoshoot instead of a boardroom.
Sunshine, in all his impossible glory, right here in the fortress I'd built to keep men like him out.
I gripped the edge of my desk to steady myself. "You."
"Me." His voice was warm, amused, like he knew exactly how much power he wielded just by standing there.
"What are you doing here?" My tone was ice. Or at least, I prayed it was.
He smiled slow. "I was in the neighborhood."
I laughed once, sharp and humorless. "No one is in the neighborhood of this building. It's not a coffee shop. it's a financial district fortress. Try again."
He shrugged, a lazy roll of muscle under cotton. "Maybe I wanted to see where you run your empire."
My pulse roared in my ears. "That's not an answer."
He stepped closer, closing the distance like he had every right to. My office suddenly felt smaller.
"Relax, Oriana," he said softly, and the sound of my name on his lips was a dangerous luxury. "I'm not here to cause trouble."
"Then what are you here for?"
He didn't answer immediately. Just studied me, eyes glinting with something that made the floor tilt beneath my feet. Then he placed a sleek black folder on my desk.
"Your assistant said you're in charge of the Vale Tech expansion. I have a proposal you might want to see."
Business. That's what this was? I blinked, recalibrating. My gaze fell to the folder clean lines, silver embossing. Professional. Legitimate.
Of course. Skillar wasn't some aimless drifter from a rainy night. He had resources. Connections. And apparently, a reason to walk into my world without knocking.
"Vale Tech doesn't take unsolicited proposals," I said coolly, though my voice didn't sound as steady as I wanted.
"Then consider this one… solicited."
That earned him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. He grinned, completely unbothered, and leaned against my desk like the rules didn't apply to him.
God help me.
The way he moved comfortable, controlled unraveled me in places I'd stitched tight years ago. His scent, subtle and clean, drifted across the space between us, and for a fraction of a second, I forgot every reason why this was a bad idea.
Focus, Oriana. You have a goal. A promise.
"What do you want from me, Skillar?"
His eyes softened, though the tease never fully left his mouth. "Maybe I just wanted to see you again."
The words hit like a strike to the ribs silent but devastating.
I inhaled slowly, forcing steel into my spine. "You saw me. Now leave."
For a beat, neither of us moved. The city hummed beyond the glass, but in here, the silence was a living thing, pulsing between us.
He smiled faintly. "Are you always this warm to people who bring opportunities to your door?"
"Only to people who think they can walk into my life uninvited."
"Uninvited?" He tilted his head. "You didn't seem to mind last night."
Heat surged up my throat. I hated him for that and hated the way he made me remember things I had no business remembering.
"This is my office," I said, my voice like ice cracking under weight. "And my answer is no."
For a second, something flickered in his expression something darker, more serious but then it was gone, replaced by that infuriating calm.
He straightened, sliding the folder closer to me. "Keep it. No strings."
"I don't want it."
"Then throw it away." He held my gaze, unflinching. "But read it first."
And then he turned, just like that, and walked out leaving a trail of disruption in his wake.
I stared at the door long after it closed, my heart pounding against the walls I'd spent years fortifying.
The folder sat like a trap on my desk.
I should toss it in the shredder. I should burn it. Instead, my fingers itched.
That night, in my penthouse, the city lights glittered like promises I didn't believe in. The folder lay on my coffee table, unopened but not untouched.
And his business card, small and innocuous, rested in my palm.
I should have torn it in half.
Instead, I put it in the top drawer.