Love In The Boardroom.
Chapter Zero — The Chicago Seminar (Flashback)
Introduce Ava at age 24, presenting a marketing strategy in a seminar.
Ethan notices her from the back of the room; impressed by her confidence, intelligence, and bravery.
They exchange brief words — he calls her "different in a way that matters."
Plant the seed of destiny: Ethan silently remembers her, unknowingly waiting for her future at Carter Enterprises.
Act I — The Deal
Chapter 1 — The Takeover
Ava Morales lands a prestigious marketing job at Carter Enterprises in Manhattan.
She's determined, ambitious, and ready to prove herself.
Introduce office culture: high stakes, cutthroat corporate world.
Ava senses Ethan's reputation: ruthless, intimidating, and brilliant.
Chapter 2 — Ethan's Introduction
Ethan Carter appears: a powerful, intense billionaire CEO with a mysterious, guarded past.
He's immediately portrayed as unapproachable yet magnetic.
Boardroom and office interactions show his dominance and strict professionalism.
Hints of vulnerability: private moments with Biscuit and late-night baking.
Chapter 3 — First Sparks
Ava and Ethan's first direct meeting: tension, professional chemistry, and subtle attraction.
Ava impresses him with her confidence and ideas, surprising him.
Foreshadow the secret non-fraternization clause Ethan signed years ago.
First small moments of personal connection: Ava notices Biscuit or the office warmth Ethan secretly maintains.
Act II — The Game
Chapter 4 — Earning Respect
Ava proves herself in challenging marketing campaigns.
Ethan's dominance makes her uneasy, but also intrigued.
Small flirtations begin: subtle touches, teasing banter, shared laughter in private moments.
Chapter 5 — The Contract That Broke Him
Ethan reveals the non-fraternization clause.
Confession of his past and the reason he signed the contract: board pressure, family legacy, fear of scandal.
Emotional intensity builds: Ava realizes the depth of Ethan's restraint and his growing feelings.
First intimate tension: Ethan almost kisses Ava.
Chapter 6 — The Soft Side of a Hard Man
Ethan's vulnerability exposed: his love for Biscuit, late-night baking, and fear of loss.
Ava sees the real Ethan behind the billionaire mask.
Moments of tenderness, shared confessions, and quiet intimacy.
First almost-romantic moment interrupted by the board — heightens stakes.
Chapter 7 — The Boardroom Storm
Board begins to suspect Ethan and Ava's relationship.
Tensions escalate: rumors of favoritism and distraction are raised.
Ethan risks everything, defending Ava professionally and personally.
Their love is evident to the board, setting the stage for official confrontation.
Chapter 8 — The Fallout
Sophia Lang, senior board advisor, warns Ava about risks.
Ethan comforts Ava privately, reaffirming his choice to protect their love.
Ava and Ethan solidify trust and commitment despite potential consequences.
Chapter 9 — Secrets Revealed
Ava discovers a photograph of Ethan with his late sister — insight into his fear of loss and why he protects himself.
Ethan confesses the past trauma: losing someone he loved and vowing never to be vulnerable again.
Emotional intimacy deepens: Ava promises to stand with him.
Romantic tension heightens; their bond strengthens.
Act III — The Heart
Chapter 10 — The Confrontation
Ethan faces the board directly.
Speaks passionately about Ava's value as a person and professional.
Shows he's willing to risk CEO position and company control for love.
Ava publicly supports him: courage, trust, and partnership solidified.
First passionate kiss in the boardroom — declaration of love under pressure.
Chapter 11 — The Choice
The board deliberates and decides to allow their relationship under professional boundaries.
Ethan and Ava make the conscious choice to prioritize their love.
Intimate rooftop moments: mutual promises, emotional closeness, playful interactions.
Chapter 12 — The Proposal
Ethan proposes on the rooftop garden where their love deepened.
Sweet, heartfelt proposal with Biscuit as part of the moment.
Ava accepts; commitment solidified.
First moment of bliss as fiancés, building toward happily-ever-after.
Epilogue — New Beginnings
Life six months later: balance of love, work, and personal life.
Romantic morning routines, small joyful moments, weekend adventures.
Boardroom professional lives merged with personal happiness.
Rooftop reflections: promises kept, love thriving, future bright.
CHAPTER ONE — The Takeover
I arrived at Carter Enterprises exactly twelve minutes early — not because I was trying to impress anyone, but because my nerves refused to let me sleep past 5 a.m.
The Manhattan skyline glittered outside the forty-sixth-floor windows, each building sharp and cold against the November sky. I pressed a hand to my blouse to calm my racing heart. New job. New city. New beginning.
And possibly… a new disaster.
The receptionist handed me a pass card. "You're expected in the executive boardroom, Miss Morales."
Of course I was. Nothing says "welcome to your new job" like being thrown straight into a war room. Marketing Manager, they said. Fast track, they said. But nobody mentioned that Carter Enterprises was in the middle of a takeover battle that half the industry was frothing about.
I exhaled, squared my shoulders, and stepped into the elevator.
The mirrored doors reflected a woman trying to look confident: sleek ponytail, bold lipstick, the kind of heels that scream I know where I'm going, even when I don't.
The doors slid open to the executive floor — all glass, steel, and the quiet hum of power. Men in suits moved like sharks, slicing through hallways. I adjusted my bag and walked toward the largest room.
That was when I felt it — a prickling on the back of my neck, like someone's gaze rested on me. Soft but intense. It lasted only a second, but it made my breath hitch.
I turned.
A man stood at the end of the hallway, speaking to a cluster of board members. Broad shoulders, tailored suit, hair as dark as midnight. His presence alone shifted the air.
Ethan Carter.
The billionaire.
My new boss.
And — I would later learn — the man who had been secretly rooting for me for years.
But right now, he simply looked… cold.
His eyes flicked to me for the briefest moment — sharp, unreadable — then he looked away, dismissing me like I was a stranger in a sea of faces.
It stung, even though it shouldn't.
I tore my gaze from him and kept walking.
Inside the boardroom, tension sliced the air like a blade. Charts, projections, legal documents — a corporate battlefield. I took my seat in the corner, ready to listen.
The door opened.
Ethan entered the room.
Silence fell instantly.
He wasn't just handsome — he was precise. Controlled. A man carved out of quiet storms and forbidden emotions. But there was something else beneath that icy elegance. Something I couldn't name yet.
He sat at the head of the table and finally, finally, acknowledged me.
"Ava Morales," he said, voice low and even. "Welcome."
The way he said my name made heat rise along my spine.
Not in a flirty way.
Not in a warm way.
In a strangely familiar way.
His gaze held mine a heartbeat too long — like he was memorizing me.
Like he'd done it before.
Then he blinked, shuttering it away. "We'll brief you after the meeting."
The boardroom discussion exploded into arguments. Stockholders. Threatened acquisitions. Market shares.
I tried to focus.
But Ethan kept glancing at me — tiny, quick glances he tried to hide. Like he couldn't help it. Like some part of him was fighting a losing battle.
It unsettled me.
When the meeting ended, he dismissed everyone with sharp instructions. But when he reached me, his voice softened.
"Walk with me," he said.
I followed him out, heart thudding. He didn't speak at first. He simply moved down the hallway with deliberate calm — too calm, like he was holding something back tightly.
Finally, he stopped beside the window overlooking the city.
"This job will demand everything from you," he said quietly. "It isn't always… gentle."
"I didn't come for gentle," I replied.
He exhaled — almost a laugh. Almost.
Then his eyes lingered on me with something unspoken. Something deep.
"I know," he murmured.
You know?
How?
Before I could ask, he straightened, walls slamming back into place.
"You'll do well here," he said professionally. "Just… keep your guard up."
Against who?
Against what?
But he didn't give me a chance to ask. He walked away, and his reflection in the glass caught the briefest flicker of emotion before disappearing completely.
Something soft.
Something sad.
Something like recognition.
And I knew — without understanding why — that this job was about to change everything.
Especially because my cold, unreadable billionaire boss…
Already looked at me like I was the one thing he should never want.
CHAPTER TWO — The Man Behind the Glass
Ethan Carter avoided me.
Not obviously. Not rudely. Not in a way anyone else would notice.
But I noticed.
In the days following that first boardroom meeting, he managed to exist everywhere and nowhere at once — always one step away, always passing me in hallways without slowing, always speaking to me only when absolutely necessary.
His distance was precise. Calculated.
Like he was afraid to stand too close.
Still, I felt him watching me sometimes — those quick, stolen glances when he thought I was too focused on my laptop or the presentation screen to notice. He looked at me with a kind of quiet intensity that didn't match his clipped tone or cold posture.
It was confusing.
And unsettling.
And — God help me — intriguing.
On my fourth day, I was working late, trying to untangle a disaster-level client campaign. The office was nearly empty. Every floor was quiet except for the hum of the AC and the soft clicking of my keyboard.
I didn't hear him walk up behind me.
But I felt him.
A faint shift in the air.
A presence.
A warmth.
"Still here," Ethan said, his voice low.
I jumped, whirling around. "Jesus— you move like a ghost."
His lips made the tiniest movement — the ghost of a smile. "I didn't mean to startle you."
He looked different in the dim office lighting. Softer. Less untouchable. His tie was loosened, his sleeves rolled up. A more human version of the billionaire everyone feared.
"Why are you still working?" he asked.
"I wanted to fix the Kensington problem."
"You shouldn't be doing that alone." He paused. "It's not your burden."
I raised an eyebrow. "I thought that's what I was hired for."
"No," he said softly. "You were hired because you're… extraordinary."
My breath caught.
He realized what he said, blinked hard, and stepped back, gripping the edge of the cubicle as if grounding himself.
Professional Ethan reappeared instantly.
"I mean your record," he corrected quickly. "Your portfolio. You have a reputation for solving impossible campaigns."
"Right," I said, even though something warm curled in my stomach. "Just the work."
"Just the work," he echoed — but his eyes said something else entirely.
Silence stretched between us, thick and electric. He studied the documents on my desk, then the half-empty mug of cocoa beside them.
"You drink this?" he asked suddenly.
"Yeah. Helps me think."
His throat tightened almost invisibly. "Cocoa."
"Yes."
No one cared about something that small. But he did. Or maybe it wasn't the cocoa — maybe it was what it reminded him of.
Before I could ask, he exhaled sharply, like he was fighting something.
"I'll help you with the Kensington file," he said. "You shouldn't stay here alone."
"Oh? And you should?"
"I don't mind staying late."
"Of course you don't," I teased lightly. "You live here."
His breath hitched — a tiny, involuntary sound — and he turned away, walking toward the glass-walled small conference room.
I gathered my things and followed him.
Inside the smaller boardroom, the city stretched out beneath us in glittering threads of yellow and white light. Ethan stood by the table, reviewing the campaign brief.
But he wasn't reading it.
He was distracted.
More specifically — he was staring at my cocoa.
"You really drink cocoa," he said again.
I laughed softly. "Yes, Ethan. It's not that unusual."
"It is," he murmured. "Most people in this building live on black coffee and adrenaline."
"And you?" I asked.
He hesitated.
For the first time since I met him, he looked almost shy.
"I prefer tea," he said finally. "Chamomile."
I blinked.
Chamomile?
The ruthless billionaire?
The cold CEO?
Before I could process it, he spoke again, voice lower.
"And sometimes… I bake."
My mouth fell open. "Bake?"
"Bread," he said quickly. "Nothing complicated."
I stared at him.
He looked away, jaw clenched — like he'd revealed something he wasn't supposed to.
"That's actually…" I searched for the word. "Sweet."
His eyes flicked to mine — dark, startled, soft.
He swallowed.
"We should work," he said abruptly.
But ten minutes later, he wasn't looking at the Kensington brief at all.
He was looking at me.
Like he'd forgotten how to breathe.
Like he was memorizing me again.
Like he was losing the battle he'd clearly fought long before I ever stepped into his office.
Finally, I couldn't take it anymore.
"Ethan," I whispered, "why do you look at me like that?"
His pen stilled.
His breath stopped.
Seconds stretched — fragile and heavy — until he said, barely audible:
"Because I shouldn't."
The confession shattered the stillness of the room.
I opened my mouth, but he stood up suddenly, chair sliding back with a sharp scrape.
"I have to go," he said, the softness replaced by panic. "Goodnight."
He left.
Fast.
Too fast.
Like he was running from something.
Like he was running from me.
And for the first time, I wondered what exactly Ethan Carter was so afraid of—
And why he looked at me like loving me would ruin everything he'd built.
CHAPTER THREE — The Rooftop Garden
I didn't see Ethan for two full days after he ran out of the conference room like the building was on fire.
Two days of:
clipped emails
zero eye contact
meetings he "couldn't attend"
and an avoidance so intense it bordered on comical
If he was trying to pretend nothing happened, he wasn't doing a very good job.
His silence wasn't normal silence — it crackled, dense and watchful, like he was holding his breath somewhere just out of sight.
And I hated how much I noticed.
By Friday evening, I needed air.
Space.
Clarity.
The office was emptying out, people rushing home for the weekend, but I found myself riding the elevator to the very top floor. I'd heard whispers about a rooftop lounge the employees sometimes used.
I just needed somewhere quiet to think.
The elevator doors opened.
Wind kissed my cheeks as I stepped outside into a small rooftop garden — nothing extravagant, just raised planters, fairy lights, and a wooden bench. The city sprawled around me in glowing threads of gold.
Beautiful.
Unexpected.
Peaceful.
I walked closer, admiring the soft scent of herbs growing in one corner. Basil. Lavender. Mint.
Whoever designed this space had good taste.
I moved toward a small potted plant with delicate yellow blooms — simple, sweet, almost shy-looking. A wooden tag stuck out of the soil with handwriting etched into it:
Chamomile.
My pulse slowed.
Chamomile.
Ethan's voice echoed in my mind:
> "I prefer tea. Chamomile."
A warmth bloomed in my chest that I tried — and failed — to ignore.
I turned—
And froze.
Ethan stood at the entrance of the roof, phone in hand, suit jacket gone, sleeves rolled up, the evening breeze brushing through his dark hair.
He looked as startled to see me as I was to see him.
"Ava."
Soft.
Like he didn't have the strength to keep it cold anymore.
"What are you doing up here?" I asked.
He hesitated. Then walked toward me — slow, careful steps, as if approaching a wild animal he didn't want to spook.
"It's where I… think," he said. "When I can't sleep."
I lifted my brows. "You come up here often?"
"Most nights."
I looked around again — the herbs, the chamomile, the small watering can tucked into a corner.
A suspicion formed.
"Ethan… did you make this place?"
He exhaled. Closed his eyes briefly.
"Yes."
I stared at him.
"You planted all this?"
"Yes."
"And you tend it personally?"
He swallowed hard, jaw tightening — like it embarrassed him more than any corporate scandal ever could.
"Yes."
The wind carried the scent of chamomile between us.
My voice softened without meaning to.
"That's… really sweet."
His eyes lifted to mine so quickly it nearly stole my breath.
"Don't," he whispered.
"Don't what?"
"Don't call me that."
"Sweet?" I teased, stepping closer.
He looked pained. "Yes."
"Why?"
"Because it makes it harder."
His voice was barely a breath, strained with something raw.
"Much harder."
Emotion surged through me, electric and fragile. "Ethan… harder to do what?"
He broke.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just a quiet exhale — like surrender.
"To pretend," he murmured.
I took another step toward him. "Pretend what?"
"That I don't feel anything when I'm around you."
His eyes darkened, vulnerable.
"That I haven't felt something since the day you walked into my office."
My heart slammed against my ribs.
"Ethan…"
He shook his head, looking tortured.
"I shouldn't tell you this," he whispered. "I shouldn't be here with you. I shouldn't even—"
A soft bark interrupted him.
Both of us turned.
A tiny caramel-colored puppy trotted out from behind a planter, dragging a chew toy bigger than its entire body.
I blinked. "Is that—?"
Ethan stepped forward immediately, kneeling as the puppy ran into his arms, tail wagging furiously.
"Hey, buddy," Ethan murmured, voice turning into the warmest thing I'd ever heard from a human. He lifted the puppy carefully, cradling it against his chest. "You weren't supposed to come out. You scared me."
My mouth dropped open.
My cold, ruthless boss was holding a puppy like it was the most precious thing in the world.
The puppy licked his cheek. Ethan closed his eyes, pressing a soft kiss to its head.
Something melted inside me.
Deeply. Irreversibly.
"You… foster dogs?" I whispered.
He didn't answer at first.
He didn't need to.
It was written all over him — the gentleness, the hidden softness, the tenderness he guarded like a secret.
Finally, he whispered:
"Only the ones that need a place to feel safe."
The words hit me harder than they should have.
I stepped closer, unable to stay away.
And for once… he didn't back away.
He looked up at me, eyes unguarded — completely unmasked.
The breeze tugged at his hair, the puppy nestled against his chest, and he looked so heartbreakingly human I felt my throat tighten.
"Ethan," I said softly. "You don't have to pretend with me."
Something in him shattered — quietly, beautifully.
His voice broke as he said:
"I've been pretending for years."
My breath caught.
"Pretending what?"
"That I don't care about you."
Dark eyes locked with mine.
"That I didn't notice you long before you ever knew who I was. That I haven't wanted you… from the moment I first saw you."
The city lights blurred behind him. My pulse thundered.
And Ethan — powerful, untouchable Ethan — looked at me with a softness that felt like a confession carved straight from his soul.
"Ava…"
A whisper.
A warning.
A prayer.
"I don't know how to stop."
CHAPTER FOUR — The File with My Name On It
Ethan didn't kiss me.
And I didn't kiss him.
For one stretched-out, breathless moment on that rooftop, it felt like the world tilted toward something inevitable.
Something dangerous.
Something tender and wild and years in the making.
But then—
His phone vibrated.
The spell broke.
He looked at the screen, jaw tightening, and when his eyes lifted back to mine… the softness was gone.
Not completely.
Just buried.
"I have to take this," he said quietly.
I nodded, even though my heart thudded in confusion.
He set the puppy down gently, brushed past me, and disappeared inside.
Leaving me alone with chamomile flowers, fairy lights, and the echo of a confession he clearly w