The office was almost empty, the hum of the air conditioning louder than usual in the quiet room. Valentina sat at her desk, eyes heavy, trying to finish the last of the reports for the day. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, dragging slowly, unwilling to focus.
Just finish this… then collapse in bed like a normal human, she thought.
Adrian appeared silently beside her desk, holding two cups of coffee. One smelled of vanilla, the other of chocolate.
"You're still here?" he asked, leaning casually against the edge of her desk.
"I… had to finish these reports," she muttered, rubbing her eyes. "Unlike some people, apparently."
"Touché," he replied with a faint smirk. He lingered there, close enough that the warmth of his body brushed hers. Why does being near him feel like standing on a cliff?
"I'm almost done," she said, trying to focus on the screen in front of her.
"Almost?" he raised an eyebrow, settling into the chair beside her. "You're teasing me."
AAAAH. How does he always know what to say?
"I'm not!" she protested, fumbling with the papers.
"Yes, you are," he countered, nudging a document closer to her. Their fingers brushed. She felt a shiver race up her arm.
"OW! That—what was that?" she stammered.
"Relax, not contagious. Unless it's the fluster virus… which you seem to have caught," he teased.
Fluster virus? Seriously?
She buried her face in her hands. "You're impossible."
"And you're adorable like this," he whispered softly.
TOO SOFT. STOP.
"Why are you whispering?" she demanded, peeking through her fingers.
"Because it suits the moment," he said, leaning just slightly closer. Their knees touched, just barely.
Why is every little contact making me dizzy?
Her chest thumped as she tried to breathe normally. "I… need more coffee," she said, grabbing the steaming cup in front of her.
"Careful. Don't spill it on me. That would be… problematic," he said, low and teasing.
Minutes passed in a haze of work and occasional stolen glances. Every time she tried to type, her mind wandered to the warmth of his arm, the faint scent of his cologne, the curve of his lips.
Finally, he leaned back in his chair. "You've been cooped up here all day. Let's get some air."
"I… I can't. I have to finish…" she began.
"Yes, you can. Trust me," he said, standing and extending his hand.
She hesitated, but there was no arguing with that look. She grabbed her bag, following him out of the office.
A short drive later, they stepped into a softly lit five-star restaurant, the polished floors reflecting warm lights. Valentina blinked, overwhelmed. The menu was filled with items she'd never even considered trying: truffle pasta, saffron risotto, oysters on the half-shell.
"You don't have to order anything crazy," he said casually, scanning the menu like he belonged there.
She froze over the menu. "Wait… how did you know I like seafood? I never told you that."
The question hit him like she'd thrown a brick at his chest. His grip on the wine list slipped just slightly. Barely noticeable. Except she noticed.
Adrian blinked once. Twice. Then his jaw clenched in a way that did not match his usual composed CEO face.
"I… guessed," he said.
Liar. Horrible liar. She felt it.
"That wasn't a guess," she murmured.
He inhaled sharply, posture too straight, fingers still on the wine list like he needed something to anchor himself. His eyes darted to her for half a second before flicking away again, like looking at her too long might expose something.
"You just… give that vibe," he said stiffly.
"Seafood-vibe?" she raised an eyebrow.
He actually lost color. The man went pale. "Can we… not overanalyze everything tonight?"
Overanalyze. Translation: please don't connect the dots I'm praying you never see.
She tilted her head, studying him. "It's a very specific thing to know."
His throat worked as he swallowed. "I pay attention," he murmured, voice dropping an octave without meaning to.
"To what?" she asked.
He froze. Completely. Like someone had hit pause on him.
"Forgetting the conversation now," he said quickly, too quickly, picking up his glass with the elegance of a malfunctioning robot.
She stared.
He drank.
Long sip.
Longest sip of his life.
When he finally put the glass down, his expression was the picture of forced calm, the kind someone practices when they're absolutely hiding something huge.
Then he gave a small, tight smile. "Order whatever you like, Valentina."
It wasn't an answer.
It was an escape.
And for the first time, she wondered just how much he knew about her… and how long he'd known it.
They ordered a small tasting of seafood, and she found herself laughing quietly at how casually he seemed to know exactly what she'd enjoy. Conversation flowed more easily than the tension from the office had suggested, though she could feel it simmering under the surface—electric, unspoken.
"I didn't realize you were so… decisive," he said, smiling over the table as she finally made her choice.
"I'm… not usually," she admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I just… didn't want to waste time deciding in front of you."
"Smart," he said simply, eyes softening. "You're… easy to read sometimes, though."
She nearly choked on her water. "Easy to… WHAT?"
"Don't overthink it," he said, smirking. But the look in his eyes made her heart skip anyway.
The server brought their dishes, and for a while, they ate in comfortable silence. Occasionally, their hands brushed as they reached for utensils, sending little shocks of awareness through her body. Each touch made her pulse thrum a little faster.
"You're quiet," he said finally, leaning back, eyes fixed on her.
"I'm… savoring the food," she lied, though she wasn't entirely wrong.
He chuckled, a low, rich sound. "Or savoring me."
AAAAHHHH. WHY WOULD HE SAY THAT?
"I—what?" she stammered, eyes wide.
"You," he said simply, like it was obvious. "You keep stealing glances, pretending to concentrate on your plate. It's… cute."
Her face burned. She looked down, stirring her food. I'm panicking. I can't handle this. Why does everything feel like this?
"You're… nervous," he observed softly.
"I'm… not," she said too quickly.
"Yes, you are," he said, smirking again, eyes twinkling with amusement.
Why is he like this? Does he always notice everything about me?
She laughed awkwardly, sipping her water. "I… I just… it's been a long day, okay?"
"Sure," he said, tone teasing but gentle. "Long day."
The rest of the dinner passed in a mix of quiet conversation and subtle, teasing glances. Valentina couldn't shake the thought that Adrian knew far more about her than he should—and yet, it didn't feel invasive. Somehow, it felt… intimate.
As they left the restaurant, stepping back into the night air, she realized how much she was aware of him—every movement, every quiet smile, every glance.
And he seemed equally aware of her, noticing things she hadn't even realized she'd revealed.
The city hummed around them, lights twinkling like tiny confessions, and Valentina's heart thumped in a rhythm that was both thrilling and terrifying.
Tomorrow, we'll be back in the office. But tonight… tonight feels different.
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