Rosaline arrived at Harvey & Co. the next morning, earlier than usual. The city was still shaking off dawn; rain clung to the glass doors, a pale silver shimmer in the lobby's reflection. The elevator hummed quietly as she pressed the top floor button and forced herself to breathe.
She'd barely slept. The conversation with Conrad the previous day had replayed in her mind in merciless loops every word, every glance, every subtle reminder of a night that should never have happened. It was beginning to feel like she was living two lives at once: the one where she kept her secret buried, and the one where every heartbeat whispered his name.
Claire looked up the moment Rosaline stepped into her office. "Good morning," she said, tone careful. "You're early."
"Big day," Rosaline replied, dropping her bag beside the desk. "What's on my schedule?"
Claire flipped through her tablet. "Strategy session with Mr. Reid at ten. Eleanor asked me to block two hours this time."
Rosaline froze mid-motion. "Two hours?"
"She said she wants a finalized media rollout plan today," Claire continued, lowering her voice. "She also mentioned she might sit in for part of it."
Of course, she would. Eleanor Harvey never missed an opportunity to hover when a high-profile client was involved. Rosaline managed a polite smile. "Thanks, Claire. Could you bring me the Ryden Tech brief? I'll need to rework the talking points."
"On your desk."
Rosaline nodded, though her stomach was already tight. Two hours. Two hours of pretending nothing had happened that he hadn't touched her, hadn't looked at her like she was someone else.
By the time ten o'clock approached, she had crafted a version of herself designed for survival: precise, calm, and impenetrable.
When Conrad entered the conference room, the air seemed to shift again, the way it always did when he walked into a space. Authority followed him like a shadow.
"Morning, Ms. Clarke," he greeted smoothly, his tone clipped but polite. His assistant, Matthew, trailed behind, carrying a sleek leather portfolio and a tablet.
"Good morning, Mr. Reid," she replied, her voice steady despite the pulse drumming at her wrist.
"Please," he said with a faint smile. "We've known each other too long for formalities."
Rosaline forced a professional curve of her lips. "Old habits die hard."
Matthew took a seat near the edge of the table, eyes focused on his notes, the model of silent efficiency. Eleanor entered a moment later, her perfume arriving before her presence, floral, assertive, commanding.
"Conrad," she said warmly. "Always a pleasure."
"Eleanor." He nodded, shaking her hand. "Your firm has been impressive so far. Rosaline's work speaks for itself."
Eleanor's lips curved approvingly. "It usually does." Her gaze slid toward Rosaline, part praise, part reminder of the expectations resting on her shoulders. "Let's make this rollout perfect."
Rosaline smiled. "That's the plan."
As the meeting began, Conrad leaned back in his chair, his gaze sharp, the faintest trace of amusement glinting beneath his professionalism. Rosaline presented the updated campaign strategy, her voice clear and precise. She spoke of brand angles, media exclusives, target demographics, anything that kept her attention away from the way he watched her.
When Eleanor excused herself midway through the meeting, the tension in the room shifted subtly.
Conrad leaned forward, forearms resting on the table. "You know," he said quietly, "you make this look easy."
Rosaline blinked. "It's just part of the job."
He smiled faintly. "I wasn't talking about the job."
Her breath caught. She forced a neutral expression. "Then what were you talking about?"
"The way you carry yourself," he said after a pause, his gaze unreadable. "You've changed since we last worked together. There's something different. Calmer. Stronger."
She looked down at her notes, feigning disinterest. "People change in four years."
"Some do," he said softly. "Some just learn to hide better."
Her pulse stuttered. He wasn't accusing, he couldn't know, but his words hit too close to the truth.
She met his gaze evenly. "Are you implying something, Mr. Reid?"
A ghost of a smirk crossed his lips. "Not at all. Just an observation."
The silence stretched taut and charged until Matthew's quiet cough broke it. "If I may," he said politely, "I've drafted the press release schedule based on your timeline."
Rosaline nodded quickly, grateful for the interruption. "Thank you, Matthew. Let's go over that."
They buried themselves in logistics, though Conrad's attention seemed to drift, watching her, thinking, measuring.
When the meeting ended, Matthew excused himself to make a call, leaving the two of them alone.
Conrad stood, slipping his hands into his pockets. "You've done good work here," he said finally. "Eleanor's lucky to have you."
Rosaline smiled faintly. "I try not to give her reasons to think otherwise."
He studied her for a long moment. "You always were good at control."
Her throat tightened. "Control keeps things clean."
"Does it?" His voice dipped low, thoughtful. "Or does it just stop you from feeling anything real?"
The air thickened, the distance between them shrinking. She wanted to step back, to breathe, but couldn't seem to move.
"I should go," she said finally, voice quieter than she intended.
He nodded once, though his eyes lingered on her a moment longer. "Tell your sister I said hello again."
The words sliced through the air like glass. She managed a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I'll do that."
He left, the faint scent of his cologne following him out the door, dark, steady, unshakable.
Rosaline sank into her chair, the quiet pressing in around her.
Every time she thought she'd regained control, he found a way to unravel it with nothing but a look.
And worse, somewhere between the guilt and the secrecy, she was beginning to wonder if she even wanted to stop him.