The weekend had settled into a gentle rhythm at Sunpark Golf Club, a Saturday afternoon filled with quiet energy and soft bursts of movement. The sun hovered lazily above, bathing the rolling greens in a mellow, golden glow. The air smelled of trimmed grass and distant pine, warm but softened by a forgiving breeze that carried the faint metallic clink of golf clubs and the muted murmur of other players scattered across the course.
Lesley adjusted her grip on the club, narrowing her eyes at the white ball resting on its tee. The world seemed to shrink to that single point. The chatter of her friends blurred into the background. She inhaled, steady and controlled, the way she did before closing a million-dollar deal.
Then she swung.
The crisp crack of metal against ball sliced through the air. They all followed its arc, heads tilting upward, breath caught collectively in their throats. The ball landed with a soft thud on the green and rolled—smooth, determined, unhesitating—straight into the hole.
For a second there was silence.
Then applause erupted behind her.
"Woah! You're really getting good at this, Les!" Alexandra called out, clapping dramatically as if Lesley had just won a championship.
Lesley allowed herself a slow turn, lowering her sunglasses just enough to flash a smirk. "You know me."
She tried to play it cool, but satisfaction warmed her chest. Control. Precision. Clean results. That was her language.
Alexandra stepped forward to take her turn, adjusting her visor while Athena and Sam moved toward the shade of a nearby tree.
"Why is Stacy not here?" Lesley asked casually, leaning her weight on the club as she watched Alexandra line up her shot.
Athena exhaled softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You know Zoe's in her last month now." Her voice gentled. "They're keeping things quiet for a while. No outdoor activities, no long days out. Just… taking it easy until the baby comes."
Lesley nodded faintly. That made sense. Responsibility had a way of reshaping priorities.
"And what about your Trixie, Athena?" she asked, casting her a sideways look over the rim of her sunglasses. "She's not coming again?"
Athena rolled her eyes, though her lips curved into something fond. "Oh, you know how busy she is."
Sam let out a quiet scoff, shaking her head. "But she's your fiancée. She should spend time with us too." She nudged Athena lightly with her elbow. "I've only met her a handful of times, and we're literally neighbors."
Athena lifted one shoulder in a small shrug, though a faint edge crept into her tone. "She has her own place," she said. "And I'm allowed to enjoy a little freedom while we're not married yet."
Alexandra smirked as she adjusted her stance, eyes glinting with mischief. "Oh, please," she sing-songed, glancing at Athena. "She just doesn't want her staying over too often without a ring to justify it."
Athena threw a playful glare at her.
"Yes, for freedom!" Lesley called, stepping up to line her next shot. The word rolled off her tongue, surprisingly satisfying. Freedom. She liked the weight of it—light, clean, untethered.
Alexandra groaned, waving a hand in mock exasperation. "Oh God, not you too. When are you actually going to let us meet your girlfriend properly?"
Lesley didn't look up. "Girlfriend? You know I don't have that."
Sam tilted her head, mischief sparkling in her eyes. "So the love story between you and your assistant hasn't escalated into something more yet?"
The club faltered mid-swing.
"What?" Lesley let out a laugh that sounded a fraction too high. Too quick. And suddenly, uninvited, a memory surfaced.
Dim club lights. Music vibrating through her ribs. Denisse's perfume, soft and floral but with something sharp beneath it. The brush of fingers. The kiss. Brief. Heated. Reckless.
Her grip tightened.
"N-no. Why would it?" she said, forcing the ball forward with more strength than necessary.
Athena shot Sam a quick glance, then turned back to Lesley, her expression half-amused, half-exasperated. "Oh, come on, Lesley. You really just let that slip? She's a fine woman."
"You know how we started," Lesley replied, straightening, her voice sharpening slightly. "We were practically at war."
War felt easier to explain than whatever this was becoming.
"It's not about how you started," Sam said, softer now, almost thoughtful. "It's about how you continue. And how you want it to end."
Lesley scoffed lightly. "You watch too many romance series, Sam."
But the words lingered.
Continue.
End.
She disliked not having a clear trajectory. In business, she strategized five moves ahead. In life, she calculated risks before they materialized. Yet when it came to Denisse, everything felt… unstructured.
Unpredictable.
"Oh come on," Sam pressed gently. "I can see the chemistry, Les."
Chemistry.
Lesley hated that word. It implied something beyond logic. Something involuntary.
"Why don't you invite her here, Les?" Alexandra asked lightly, though the glint in her eyes said she knew exactly what she was stirring.
Lesley looked up from the ball she was aligning, brows drawing together. "What? Why should I?"
Alexandra planted her club into the grass and leaned on it. "So we can actually meet her."
"You already did. At the office, remember?" Lesley replied, a little too quickly.
Athena gave a soft, unimpressed hum. "Correction. We saw her." She folded her arms. "We didn't get to speak to her."
The distinction hung there, deliberate.
"And what would she even do here?" Lesley asked, folding her arms.
"Play golf with us," Sam answered matter-of-factly.
Lesley almost laughed. "And what if she's busy? What if she can't come?"
Athena crossed her arms and smiled knowingly. "We'll never know unless you get your phone right now and dial her number."
The breeze seemed to still.
The idea was absurd. Childish. Completely unnecessary.
So why was her heart beginning to beat faster?
She slipped her hand into her pocket before she could overthink it. Her fingers curled around her phone. It felt heavier than usual.
This is ridiculous, she told herself.
Yet she was already scrolling to Denisse's name.
Her thumb hovered.
Then she pressed call.
It rang once.
Twice.
Each ring stretched longer than it should have. Her friends leaned in, shamelessly eavesdropping, grinning like teenagers.
Then the line clicked.
"Hello, Ms. Ashford?"
Denisse's voice poured through the speaker—clear, calm, composed. There was something about the way she said her name. Respectful, yes. But there was always that undercurrent. Something unspoken.
A faint tremor traveled down Lesley's spine.
Why does hearing her voice do that to me?
"Uh… Hello, Denisse," she replied.
She cleared her throat, suddenly aware of how dry it felt. Her friends gestured wildly for her to continue.
"Yes? Do you need something, Ms. Ashford?"
The professionalism in Denisse's tone was immaculate and polished.
Lesley swallowed.
"Ahm… Are you busy today? I mean… are you doing something?"
Silence for a heartbeat.
"No, Ms. Ashford. I'm just at my apartment."
Just at my apartment.
For some reason, that image formed too clearly in Lesley's mind. Denisse in casual clothes. Hair down. No office composure. No walls.
"Okay…" Lesley began, her pulse thrumming in her ears. "So… would you like to join us here at Sunpark Golf Club?"
There was a small pause on the other end.
"Golf? But I do not know how to play."
The vulnerability in that admission softened something in Lesley's chest.
"I… I will teach—" She cut herself off, the offer dying on her tongue.
A beat of silence.
"Just get here," she said quickly, her tone snapping back into something safer. "We'll be waiting."
And before she could betray herself further, she ended the call.
Her friends burst into delighted whispers.
But Lesley barely heard them.
She stared at her phone.
Since when did she stutter around anyone?
She was Lesley Ashford. Sharp-tongued. Unshakeable. A woman who commanded boardrooms filled with men and women twice her age without so much as blinking. She flirted effortlessly when she wanted to. She never second-guessed her words.
Yet with Denisse…
Her confidence frayed.
Her pulse raced.
Her thoughts scattered like startled birds.
And the most unsettling part of all was that this was the same woman she had clashed with from the very first day they met. Cold exchanges. Competitive tension. Subtle power struggles.
Somewhere between the arguments and the stolen kiss, something had shifted.
Something fragile and dangerous.
Lesley exhaled slowly, pressing her fingers against her temple as if she could steady the whirlwind inside her mind.
Freedom, she had declared just minutes ago.
So why did inviting Denisse here feel less like freedom…
…and more like stepping willingly into something that could change everything?