Three days later, I was drowning in work the good kind.
My new corner office had floor-to-ceiling windows, a view of the city, and enough space to actually breathe. My team of five was sharp, hungry, and actually listened when I spoke.
The Riverside expansion project sat on my desk, a fifty-million-dollar opportunity that made my palms sweat and my heart race.
I was living my professional dream.
And I was also sneaking around with my boss like a teenager.
"Miss Carter, the Riverside executives are on line two," my new assistant, Jenny, announced through the intercom.
"Thank you, Jenny. I'll take it." I straightened my blazer and answered. "Good afternoon, Mr. Jameson."
"Emma! Please, call me Robert. I wanted to personally congratulate you on the promotion. Adrian speaks very highly of you."
My stomach flipped at the mention of Adrian's name. "He's been very supportive of the team."
"He told me you're the only person he trusts with our expansion. That's quite an endorsement." Robert's voice warmed. "We'd like to schedule a meeting for next week. Can you come to our headquarters in Boston?"
Boston. Overnight trip. With Adrian,
presumably, since he'd want to be at any major client meeting.
"Of course. I'll coordinate with Mr. Hartley's office."
"Excellent. I'll have my assistant send details. Oh, and Emma? Adrian also mentioned you have some innovative ideas for the digital component. I'm looking forward to hearing them."
We wrapped up the call, and I immediately texted Adrian: Boston trip next week?
His response came seconds later: Just got the email. We'll take the company jet. Leaves Monday at 6 AM.
Company jet. Fancy.
Wait until you see the hotel. I booked us adjoining suites.
Adjoining? That's presumptuous.
The door between them locks. From your side. I'm being a perfect gentleman.
You're being a bad boss.
You say that like it's a complaint. Dinner tonight? My place. 8 PM. I'll cook.
I shouldn't. We'd agreed to be careful, and we'd already had lunch together twice this week though both times were technically working lunches with files spread across the table.
But God, I wanted to see him. Wanted more than stolen glances across the conference room and professional emails that hid so much beneath the surface.
Fine. But we actually need to work on the Riverside pitch.
Of course. Work. That's definitely what we'll be doing.
I could practically hear his smirk through the text.
Sarah Chen knocked on my open door at five. "Hey, boss. Got a minute?"
"Always. Come in." I gestured to the chair across from my desk. Sarah was brilliant a strategic thinker with a gift for data analysis but Gerald had kept her buried in grunt work for years.
"I wanted to run something by you for Riverside." She pulled out her tablet, eyes bright with enthusiasm. "I've been analyzing their customer demographics, and I think we're missing a huge opportunity with the 25-35 female market.
Their current branding skews masculine, but their product has massive appeal for women if we position it right."
She showed me mock-ups, data projections, focus group analysis. It was exactly the kind of innovative thinking the campaign needed.
"Sarah, this is incredible." I scrolled through her presentation. "This could be the centerpiece of our pitch. How long have you been working on this?"
"Since you got the account. I know I should have asked permission first, but"
"No. This is initiative. This is exactly what I want from this team." I met her eyes. "How would you feel about presenting this section to the Riverside executives yourself? In Boston next week?"
Her jaw dropped. "Are you serious?"
"Completely. This is your idea. You should get credit for it."
"But won't Mr. Hartley be there? That's a lot of pressure for someone at my level."
"Mr. Hartley values good ideas regardless of who presents them. Trust me." I smiled. "Besides, you'll have backup. I'll be right there."
Sarah practically floated out of my office, and I felt a surge of satisfaction. This building a team, elevating talented people, creating something bigger than myself this was what I'd been fighting for.
My phone buzzed: Heard you're bringing Sarah to Boston. Good call. She's talented.
I frowned. How did you know that already?
I make it my business to know everything that happens in my company.
That's creepy.
That's thorough. See you at 8. Don't be late.
So demanding.
You have no idea.
I arrived at Adrian's penthouse at 8:03, armed with my laptop and a bottle of wine Riley had insisted I bring.
"For courage," she'd said. "Or so you have something to blame when you wake up in his bed again."
"It's a work dinner!"
"Sure it is. Text me in the morning. Or don't. I'll assume you're busy."
Adrian opened the door in dark jeans and a navy sweater, looking unfairly attractive and completely unlike the intimidating CEO who'd destroyed Marcus three days ago.
"You're late," he said, but his smile was warm as he pulled me inside and kissed me thoroughly.
"Three minutes," I protested when I could breathe again.
"Three minutes I spent thinking about doing this." His hands cupped my face, his thumbs stroking my cheekbones. "You're beautiful."
"You're distracting. We have work to do."
"We do. After dinner." He took my laptop and wine, setting them aside. "I made Italian. Hope you're hungry."
The dining table was set again, but this time it felt less formal. Candles, yes, but also scattered papers he'd been working. A bottle of wine was already open, two glasses poured.
"How was your day?" he asked, pulling out my chair.
It felt surreal, this domestic moment with Adrian Hartley. "Good. Productive. Sarah's presentation is going to blow the Riverside executives away."