The hum of the office breakroom refrigerator filled the quiet space as Roman walked in, spotting Jane by the counter. She was leaning against the edge, casually sipping a warm cup of herbal tea while reviewing a folder. Roman grabbed his own mug—pouring a dark, spiced black tea—and stepped over with an easy, friendly grin.
"Morning, Jane. Still burning the midnight oil on the quarterly reports, or is that just your daily survival potion?" he asked, his tone light and conversational.
Jane looked up, a genuine smile touching her lips as she met his gaze. "Morning, Roman. Just trying to keep up with the logistics team. Though I think this tea is the only thing keeping me coherent today."
Roman chuckled, leaning against the counter a few feet away. In his mind, a wave of satisfaction washed over him. He couldn't help but remember just a few afternoons ago—the way Jane had looked pressed against his office desk, the breathless heat of it all, and how wonderfully tight and responsive she had been in his arms. He grinned slightly at the memory, feeling thoroughly pleased with how well things had gone.
Beneath her calm exterior and polite smile, however, Jane's thoughts were running in a completely different direction. He really isn't a nice guy at all, she told herself silently, a sharp twinge of cynicism cooling any warmth she might have felt. We had sex right there on his desk, and now he acts like it meant nothing—like I don't matter to him on any emotional level whatsoever.
Yet, despite the quiet sting in her chest, her voice remained perfectly steady and pleasant. She didn't let on. Instead, they seamlessly transitioned from chatting about the upcoming departmental deadlines to a lighthearted debate over the best coffee shops downtown.
To Jane, the reality was stark and clear: she didn't like Roman in any romantic way. He was simply a coworker whose professional competence she respected, and that was the absolute limit of it.
On his side, Roman held a parallel brand of detachment mixed with appreciation. He deeply respected Jane as a sharp, capable colleague—even if they had crossed lines into intimacy. Of course, looking at her now, he wouldn't mind sleeping with her again; the memory of how she felt in his office made his pulse tick up just a bit, and he maintained a warm, appreciative grin as they spoke.
After a few more minutes of easy banter, Jane checked her watch, closed her folder, and offered a polite nod. "Well, I should get back to it. Good catching up, Roman."
"You too, Jane. Let's touch base later about the presentation," Roman replied smoothly.
As Jane turned and walked out of the breakroom, Roman lingered by the counter. He took a long, slow sip of his black tea, letting the rich flavor settle as he watched the doorway, a lingering smile of quiet contentment playing on his lips.
In the sprawling living room of the Marson villa, the afternoon sunlight filtered softly through the tall French windows, casting a warm glow across the plush grey couch. Jordin sat right in the middle of it, his posture relaxed, legs casually spread open as he scrolled mindlessly on his phone.
Standing nearby was his mother, Camilla Marson. Tall, striking, and effortlessly elegant with a cascade of dark hair, she let out a soft sigh, crossing her arms as she looked down at her son.
"You really have to start thinking about getting married, Jordin," Camilla pressed, her tone a mix of maternal concern and slight exasperation. "You aren't getting any younger, and I want to see you settle down with someone nice. Come on, is there no one special? Do you have any woman you're seeing that you could share with your mother?"
Jordin didn't look up from his screen. "I have no one, Mum," he said, his voice flat and entirely unbothered.
Camilla rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "Honestly, Jordin, you're so boring. All work and no romance." She took a seat beside him.
"I don't think I'll ever be getting married," Jordin replied smoothly, treating the idea with the same weight as checking the weather.
Camilla sighed, waving a dismissive hand. "Well, it's ultimately your choice, but don't talk like that. You'll change your tune when the right person comes along."
Jordin gave a low, indifferent shrug. "I honestly don't care."
Despite her words, Camilla didn't push it too hard. She knew her son well enough; Jordin had his needs, and with his looks and status, he could easily secure intimacy whenever he wanted without needing a ring on a finger. A flash of quiet relief crossed her mind. At least his older sister was already happily married and settled. If not for her, Camilla thought with a private smile, she'd have completely given up on ever having little grandchildren to spoil. Jordin thought about Elsa, why was he thinking if her now.
"Well, as long as you're taking care of yourself," Camilla conceded, walking over to the marble coffee table to set down her tea cup. "Just don't leave me waiting forever for a grandchild to spoil."
Jordin didn't respond and thought of Elsa being his wife in the future, he grinned that was a little good to him and he didnt know why he thought that way of her becoming his wife, well he did know he fell in love with her already.