Aria walked till she got to the elevator.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and she stepped inside, grateful for the brief moment of solitude. Her heart was still beating too fast. It wasn't supposed to be like this not her first morning working with a man who carried trouble in the cut of his jaw and confidence in the way he took up space without trying.
Adrian Hale.
Even his name made her pulse skip.
She pressed the button for the 17th floor and leaned against the cool metal railing, shutting her eyes. She needed thirty seconds to remember who she was. What she wanted. Why she wasn't supposed to feel anything for someone she barely knew.
The elevator began its slow climb upward and then stopped too suddenly on the 11th floor.
The doors opened.
Her breath faltered.
Because he was standing there.
Adrian stepped inside, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his tablet. A faint scent of sandalwood slipped in with him warm, clean, distracting.
The doors closed behind them.
Just the two of them now.
Aria kept her eyes forward, willing her pulse to steady.
Adrian didn't move closer, but she felt him in the small space anyway, like gravity shifted the moment he stepped in. He leaned against the wall across from her, gaze lowered to the tablet except she could feel he wasn't really reading it.
Silence stretched.
Too thick.
Too knowing.
Finally, he spoke.
"Are you avoiding me, Miss Rowan?"
Her head snapped up. "No."
A slow, amused curve touched his mouth. "You left the meeting so quickly I wasn't sure."
"I had somewhere to be," she said tightly.
He lifted his gaze fully this time, pinning her with eyes that saw too much.
"You were flustered."
She stiffened. "I was not."
"You are now."
Her breath caught. "Adrian"
"Aria."
The way he said her name,low, deep, with a softness she hadn't earned made her chest tighten. She hated the way her body reacted, how warmth spread beneath her skin. How he could read it, even when she held herself perfectly still.
"You're overstepping," she whispered.
"And you're pretending you don't feel anything," he replied quietly.
Her face burned.
Before she could respond, the elevator chimed and the doors slid open on the 17th floor. Aria stepped out instantly, needing distance, needing air. Needing anything that wasn't him.
But two steps out, she heard his voice behind her.
"Aria."
She froze.
Adrian didn't touch her. Didn't raise his voice. He just stood in the elevator doorway, looking at her with an intensity that made the hallway feel too warm.
"We're on the same team today," he said. "Don't fight me when you don't need to."
Her teeth sank lightly into her bottom lip a habit she thought she'd outgrown.
"I'm not fighting you," she said without turning around.
"Not out loud," he replied.
The doors closed.
She exhaled shakily.
This man was going to ruin her peace.
Two hours later, Aria was halfway through drafting a financial overview when a knock sounded on her glass office wall.
She glanced up.
There he was again.
Adrian stood with one hand on the doorframe, suit jacket unbuttoned now, sleeves rolled slightly as if the morning had gotten too warm for him. Or maybe he'd gotten frustrated and needed to move she couldn't imagine him sitting still for long.
She swallowed. "Do you need something?"
"Yes," he said simply.
He didn't elaborate, just stepped inside, closing the door halfway. Not fully but enough to make the room feel too intimate.
She set down her pen. "What is it?"
He placed a folder on her desk. "The projection files. We need to walk through them together."
"Now?"
"Unless you're free later tonight."
Her heart tripped.
He didn't say it with flirty charm. He didn't smirk. He didn't do anything except stand there, waiting but the invitation in his voice felt like heat sliding along her skin.
She cleared her throat. "Now is fine."
He moved around her desk, standing beside her chair as she opened the folder. His cologne drifted over her again, a quiet distraction that made it hard to focus.
She shifted slightly away.
Adrian noticed.
"Am I making you uncomfortable?"
His voice was soft. Not mocking. Not smug.
Just… searching.
"No," she said too quickly.
He tilted his head. "You're sure?"
"Yes."
His gaze dropped briefly to her hands and only then did she realize she was gripping her pen too tightly.
A slow breath left him.
"You don't have to pretend with me," he murmured. "Not everything has to be controlled."
Her pulse hammered against her ribs.
"Adrian," she said, "this is work."
"Right," he said quietly. "Work."
But the way he said it like it wasn't the only thing happening made her chest tighten again.
He leaned slightly over her shoulder as she pointed to a line on the document.
"This part needs restructuring," she said. "If we shift the recommendation"
She felt him pause beside her.
His breath brushed the side of her temple.
Her fingers froze on the page.
He wasn't touching her.
Not even close.
But the awareness of him the way he filled the space soaked into her skin like warmth she couldn't push away.
"You're very good at this," he said.
She swallowed hard. "At numbers?"
"At reading people."
Her breath stilled.
"You saw the weak points in the merger before anyone else," he continued. "You saw what everyone missed. You see everything."
His voice lowered.
"Even the things you pretend you don't."
Her throat tightened.
"That's not true."
"You're doing it right now," he whispered.
Her fingers curled slightly against the folder.
She didn't look at him couldn't but she felt him watching her, waiting for the truth she didn't want to admit.
"It doesn't matter what I feel," she said quietly. "We barely know each other."
"I know enough," he said.
Her stomach flipped. "You shouldn't."
"But I do."
Silence expanded in the room thick, warm, and dangerous.
Finally she forced herself to stand.
"We should get lunch," she said abruptly, gathering the folders. "I mean, for the team. I promised Tessa we'd organize the catering list."
Adrian straightened slowly, his expression unreadable.
"You're running," he said gently.
"No," she said, brushing past him toward the door.
But his voice followed her.
"Aria."
She stopped again.
Not turning.
Not breathing.
"You don't have to be afraid of wanting something," he said, his tone low, quiet, meant only for her. "Especially not with me."
Her eyes closed.
For one second one dangerous heartbeat she believed him.
Then she opened the door and walked out before she made a mistake she couldn't take back.
Later, as she walked down the hallway, she caught her reflection in the glass wall and realized something unsettling.She wasn't afraid of him.
She was afraid of herself.
And that was even worse.