Chapter 5 – Torn Between Us
Erica hadn't been sleeping well. The kiss had changed everything — not just between her and Dylan, but within herself. She could still feel the warmth of his lips if she thought about it long enough, and sometimes she caught herself replaying it in her mind, only to snap out of it with a shake of her head and a muttered, "Get a grip, Erica."
The office, once her sanctuary, had become a field of landmines. Every corner carried a memory, every meeting a risk. Dylan had been keeping his distance, at least physically. He no longer hovered by her desk or lingered after conversations. But she could feel him there, watching, careful, trying not to cross another line. And yet… he had already crossed it.
That morning, she walked into the boardroom for a quarterly strategy meeting. Dylan was already there, discussing projections with the financial director. He looked up when she entered, his gaze flickering only for a second — but it was enough. That silent recognition was heavy with everything they hadn't said.
"Good morning, Ms. Monroe," he said, his tone formal but his eyes soft.
"Good morning, Mr. Cross," she replied evenly. Her voice didn't waver, but her pulse betrayed her.
As the meeting went on, Erica found it impossible to concentrate. His voice — calm, deep, persuasive — filled the room, commanding attention. Every time he addressed her, her stomach twisted. When it finally ended, she gathered her files quickly, eager to escape.
But before she reached the door, Dylan's voice caught her. "Erica. A word, please."
She froze. Everyone else filed out, the door closing softly behind them. Dylan's expression shifted the moment they were alone. The tension, the restraint — all of it snapped.
"You've been avoiding me," he said quietly.
"I'm not," she answered, eyes fixed on the table. "I'm just doing my job."
He stepped closer, his voice lower. "Your job doesn't include pretending that kiss didn't happen."
She finally looked up, meeting his gaze. "That kiss was a mistake."
"Then why are you trembling?" he whispered.
Her breath caught. He was too close now, close enough for her to smell the faint trace of his cologne — wood and smoke and something painfully familiar. She wanted to push him away, to tell him he had no right, but her heart betrayed her again.
"Dylan…" she warned softly, but even she could hear the weakness in her voice.
He stepped back then, just enough to let her breathe. "I'm not going to push you," he said. "But you need to know something. I meant that kiss. Every second of it."
Her eyes flickered to his, searching for the lie — but there was none.
"Don't," she said, her voice cracking slightly. "Don't make this harder."
He nodded slowly. "Then I'll make it simple. I'll stop chasing. But I won't stop caring."
Before she could respond, he turned and left her standing there — breathless, shaken, and entirely undone.
That night, Erica sat by her window with a glass of wine, staring at the city lights. Her phone buzzed — a message from her colleague, Mia.
Did you hear? A new investor's coming to the firm. Big money. Big attitude. Dylan's not happy about it.
Erica frowned. A new investor? It wasn't her concern… but something in her gut told her it soon would be.
She closed her eyes, the memory of Dylan's voice still echoing in her head.
She wished she could silence her heart as easily as she muted her phone.
But deep down, she knew — whatever peace she thought she had was about to end. Again.
atmosphere in the office was different. Whispers followed Erica down the hall, the kind that always came with new money and new power. By the time she reached her desk, she already knew the name that had everyone stirred up — Adrian Vale.
He was young, ambitious, and dangerously charming. Rumor had it he'd built a tech empire before thirty, and now he was investing in major corporations — including Cross Industries.
Dylan's expression during the morning briefing told her everything she needed to know. His jaw was tight, his tone colder than usual. Whatever this partnership meant, he didn't like it.
"Erica," he said, calling her into his office after the meeting. "I'll need you to prepare a presentation for Adrian Vale's visit this afternoon. He requested to see our marketing strategies and your projections."
"Of course," she replied, trying to keep her tone professional. "Do you want me to include the Q3 data?"
"Yes," he said, but then his voice softened. "And Erica…"
She looked up. His gaze lingered just a little too long. "Don't let him get too close. Adrian doesn't always keep business and pleasure separate."
Her heart skipped. "I can handle myself, Dylan."
He gave a small nod. "I know you can. That's what worries me."
By the time Adrian Vale arrived, the office seemed to shift around him. He had the kind of presence that demanded attention — confident smile, crisp suit, and eyes that looked like they could read anyone's intentions.
When he met Erica, his charm was instant. "So, you're the woman behind these brilliant campaigns," he said, shaking her hand. "I've heard your work is the reason Cross Industries is leading in digital innovation."
Erica smiled politely. "I'm part of a great team, Mr. Vale."
"Please, call me Adrian," he said easily. "I'm not a fan of titles — unless it's yours."
Her cheeks warmed, but she kept her composure. "Then just Erica."
From across the room, Dylan watched, silent and unreadable. His hands were in his pockets, but his eyes followed every movement — every glance, every smile that passed between them.
As Erica began her presentation, Adrian leaned forward, genuinely interested. He asked insightful questions, praised her creativity, and laughed at her subtle humor. He was everything a professional partner should be — attentive, intelligent, and dangerously flattering.
When the meeting ended, Adrian stood and said, "I'd like to discuss a few more details over dinner, if that's alright."
Dylan's voice cut in before Erica could reply. "That won't be necessary. We can handle everything in the office tomorrow."
Adrian's smile didn't falter. "Of course. But I was asking Erica, not you."
For a second, the air seemed to freeze. Erica looked between them, realizing this was more than a business conversation.
She forced a diplomatic smile. "Thank you, Adrian, but I already have plans this evening."
"Another time, then," he said smoothly. "I'll be around."
As he left the room, Dylan exhaled slowly. The tension in his shoulders didn't ease until Adrian was gone.
"You handled that well," he said finally.
Erica arched an eyebrow. "Was that a test?"
"Maybe," he said, half-smiling. "You passed."
She shook her head, amused despite herself. "You have control issues, you know that?"
His smile faded. "Only when it comes to you."
There was a pause — a long, lingering one that neither of them dared to break.
And then, just like before, the distance between them began to disappear. He took a step forward, she didn't move back.
"Dylan…" she whispered, but her voice had no strength behind it.
He reached up and brushed a strand of hair from her face, his fingers grazing her skin. "Tell me to stop," he murmured.
She couldn't.
The silence between them deepened — the kind that carried the weight of everything they'd been running from.
When he finally leaned in, she didn't resist. The kiss was soft this time, slower, filled with hesitation and need. It wasn't about passion — it was about longing, and everything they'd lost.
He broke it first, resting his forehead against hers. "I told myself I wouldn't do this again," he said quietly.
"I told myself I wouldn't let you," she whispered back.
Neither of them moved for a long moment. The air around them was charged, fragile, and heavy with words they couldn't say.
Finally, Erica stepped back. "We can't keep doing this," she said, though her voice trembled.
"I know," he replied. "But tell me, Erica… if we stop pretending — what happens then?"
She didn't answer. She couldn't.
Because she already knew: the moment they stopped pretending, they'd fall apart all over again.
To be continued.....