"Good morning, Mr. Stratton," Lena said softly, clutching her coffee cup in one hand and a small paper bag in the other.
The elevator doors slid open. Lucas Stratton stepped in, and the air seemed to shift, as if the small space wasn't built to hold him. His suit was immaculate, his silver watch gleamed, and the subtle, expensive scent of his cologne wrapped around her.
"Miss Thompson." His greeting was smooth, polite.
She braced herself for silence. But instead, he turned slightly toward her.
"How was your night?" he asked.
Her breath caught. Such a simple question, but it felt enormous.
"Uh—good. Thank you. And yours?"
"Productive." A faint smile ghosted his lips. "Are you ready for today?"
Her heart pounded. He was actually asking her, engaging outside work. She nodded too fast. "Yes. Absolutely."
The silence that followed wasn't empty. It buzzed. She swore she could feel the heat radiating off him. When the elevator opened, he stepped out with his usual calm stride, leaving her pulse racing.
The day blurred with work. Lena organized sketches and notes into digital files while sneaking glances through his glass office.
Her phone buzzed. The name flashing on the screen tightened her chest. She let it ring out, then sighed, setting it facedown. Hours later, it rang again. Same name. Same choice she ignored it. She couldn't let anything derail her now.
"Looks like someone pulled the golden ticket," Damien drawled from across the intern space. His smirk was insufferable.
Lena looked up. He leaned lazily against his desk, eyes sharp with mockery.
"You don't seem like the brightest," he said smoothly. "Better be careful. Mr. Stratton might realize you're not the right fit. Someone else could easily take your place."
Her stomach clenched, words dying on her tongue.
"Funny," Chloe cut in, voice sweet but edged. "Because if anyone's not the brightest here, it's you. Maybe worry about your own work before you try sabotaging someone else's."
Damien's smirk faltered. He muttered something and turned away.
Lena whispered, "Thank you."
Chloe winked. "Stick with me. We'll survive."
By evening, Lena was drained but proud she hadn't drowned in self-doubt—or Damien's barbs. She was packing up when a message popped on her screen:
Mr. Stratton would like to see you in his office.
Her pulse spiked. She knocked lightly and stepped inside.
"Miss Thompson," Lucas said, his eyes sharp but softening at her. "I just wanted to thank you for today. You handled your work well."
Her chest warmed. She smiled nervously. "Thank you, Mr. Stratton. I… really appreciate it."
Before she could stop herself, the words tumbled out. "What's your favorite coffee? I could bring you one tomorrow morning as a thank you."
His brow lifted, surprised.
She twisted the strap of her bag. "I just thought.."
"That won't be necessary," he said gently, not unkind. "But thank you for the offer."
Heat rushed up her neck. "Of course. Sorry, I didn't mean to.."
He softened the moment with a faint smile. "Good night, Miss Thompson. See you tomorrow."
She forced a polite smile and left.
The walk back to her desk felt heavy. Chloe glanced up, questioning, but Lena just shook her head. She gathered her things silently, her chest sinking.
Her first attempt to bridge the gap had been rejected—not cruelly, but rejected all the same.
Out in the cool night air, Lena exhaled. Her first day shadowing Lucas Stratton, and she already felt defeated.