The office was too quiet. The kind of quiet that made my skin itch.
I'd been here for three weeks, and I'd already learned that silence in Maddox Corp wasn't the absence of noise—it was pressure. Phones rang, keyboards clacked, deals moved like clockwork. But when it got too still, it meant people were either afraid… or waiting for something to explode.
I tried to focus on my screen, eyes scanning numbers that weren't mine. Half the files Cole had me filter weren't even my department, but I played the role anyway. His assistant. His gatekeeper. His loyal little shadow.
My cover required it.
But beneath the clicking of my mouse, I felt him.
Cole Maddox was behind me, not saying a word, reading something over my shoulder. The man had a talent for standing close enough to make me hyperaware of his presence without crossing any professional line. His cologne—subtle, expensive, dangerous—drifted down, and I hated how my chest tightened every time I inhaled it.
"Your posture," he said suddenly, his voice deep and low. "Fix it. You'll ruin your back sitting like that."
I blinked. Of all the things he could've said, posture correction wasn't what I expected.
"Noted," I muttered, straightening my shoulders.
His gaze lingered on me for a second longer, then he moved away, walking back toward the glass wall that looked out over the skyline. I forced myself to breathe normally. I couldn't let him get under my skin. I couldn't.
Because this wasn't about him. This was about the job.
Seraphina Cross.
The woman who'd vanished after betraying the company, and the woman my agency believed was back to frame Maddox from the inside.
Every file I touched, every glance I stole, every note I smuggled back to HQ—it was all meant to find the truth about her. The truth about him.
But Maddox wasn't making it easy.
By lunchtime, I needed air. I slipped into the café across the street, ordered a cappuccino, and slid into a corner booth with my phone. It only buzzed once before the encrypted app opened.
A new message blinked across the dark screen:
HQ: Status report. What's buried?
I typed quickly, thumbs tapping with muscle memory:
Me: Still digging. No hard evidence yet. Maddox isn't sloppy. Seraphina's name hasn't surfaced in files.
The typing dots blinked.
HQ: Be faster. We need leverage. Remember the target isn't just data—it's him. Get closer.
I chewed the inside of my cheek. "Get closer." Like I hadn't noticed how close he already was.
I pocketed the phone when the bell above the café door chimed. My head snapped up instinctively, and my breath hitched.
Seraphina.
I knew it was her before I even processed the details. The woman had a presence you could feel across a room—tall, sharp, beautiful in a way that dared you to underestimate her. Her black hair spilled over her shoulders, her lips curved in a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
She didn't see me. Not yet. She ordered something at the counter, her heels clicking against the floor, before walking past my booth.
I lowered my gaze, heart hammering. If she recognized me—if she even suspected I wasn't who I said I was—this entire mission would implode.
But she didn't pause. She walked out, phone pressed to her ear, leaving only the faint trail of her perfume behind.
My fingers itched to follow her. To hear what she was saying. To prove something to HQ.
But I couldn't blow my cover. Not like this. Not yet.
Instead, I sat frozen, my cappuccino growing cold in front of me.
Back at the office, Cole was waiting.
"You're late."
His words were calm, but his tone was sharp enough to cut. His eyes flicked to the clock on the wall—twelve minutes past the hour.
"Sorry. Got caught in line," I lied smoothly.
His jaw ticked, just barely. "Excuses waste my time."
I wanted to snap back, to tell him he wasn't my father and I didn't need policing. But the part of me that knew better—the part that had studied him for months before I ever set foot in this office—stayed quiet.
Because underneath his harshness was something else. He didn't like unpredictability. He didn't like the idea that someone in his orbit could slip out of it.
I made a note of that.
"You'll stay late tonight," he added, turning back to his desk. "I want these contracts finalized before midnight."
My lips parted. "Midnight?"
"Problem?"
I bit my tongue. "No problem."
Hours later, the office was empty except for us. The city outside glowed like molten gold, windows reflecting against the polished glass walls. My eyes burned from staring at spreadsheets too long, but Cole was still at his desk, sleeves rolled up, focused, relentless.
The silence pressed again, heavier this time.
"Why do you do it?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.
His pen stilled. Slowly, he lifted his gaze. "Do what?"
"Work yourself into the ground like this. Don't you ever… I don't know… want to just breathe?"
For a moment, I thought he'd snap. That he'd remind me I was his assistant, not his therapist. But his eyes softened, just slightly, as if the steel cracked for one second.
"I breathe when the job is done," he said quietly.
Something in my chest tightened. I looked down quickly, hiding my expression, pretending to scroll through another contract. But the words stayed with me, echoing.
I breathe when the job is done.
And for the first time, I wondered if the secrets he carried weren't about greed or power, but about something heavier. Something that broke him before he ever became the man sitting in front of me.
When midnight finally came, he stood, gathering his jacket.
"Lock up when you're done," he said, his tone clipped again. Back to business.
But when he reached the door, he paused.
His voice was softer this time, almost too soft.
"Don't let them walk over you, Aurora. You're sharper than most people here. Use it."
And then he was gone.
The silence swallowed me whole, but it didn't feel empty anymore. It felt charged. Dangerous.
Because the closer I got to Cole Maddox, the more I realized the line between my mission and my heart was already blurring.
And if Seraphina was really back in his orbit…
Then I was standing in the middle of a storm that hadn't even begun.