Friday came like a slow pulse. The week had been full, busy, and heavy with deadlines, but today carried a tension all its own.
I arrived at Casa Thorn slightly later than usual, needing the calm of the lobby before facing the day. The air smelled faintly of coffee and polished floors, the hum of keyboards blending with soft chatter. Everything looked normal, but I could feel the pulse of the office differently now,like the walls themselves held their breath.
I settled at my desk, opening my laptop, pretending to work while my mind wandered. My phone vibrated almost immediately. A message from Alex:
"Good morning, Lia. Hope you're ready to survive Friday"
I blinked at it, heart jumping. I stared at the screen a second too long before typing a reply.
"I plan to,You?"
Seconds later, his response came
"Always,but someone has to make sure the week ends well"
My fingers lingered over the keys. That casual tone, the simple awareness, made my chest tighten. He didn't need to be in the same office to command attention. A single message, and suddenly the whole day felt electric.
Meetings came and went. I focused, but my mind kept drifting to those little digital nudges,brief emojis, one-word comments on my drafts, the occasional teasing remark through chat. Flirty enough to make my pulse rise, professional enough to keep HR off our backs.
Around mid-afternoon, I walked to the kitchen for water, and there he was,through the floor-to-ceiling glass of the executive corridor, a rare sight. He wasn't in my office, or even on the same floor, but our eyes met for a split second across the lobby. A small, almost imperceptible smirk curved his lips. My stomach flipped.
I looked away too quickly, pretending I was studying the coffee machine. My hand fidgeted with the bottle, my pulse loud in my ears. The fact that he'd noticed me, just from across the space, left a strange warmth crawling through me.
Later, during a lull in work, my phone buzzed again.
"You handled that meeting yesterday well. I noticed"
I stared at the words. Yesterday felt like forever ago, but he remembered. I typed quickly, trying to sound calm.
"Thank you. I… appreciate that"
Almost instantly:
"Don't let it go to your head. But I like that you notice when I notice"
My hand froze. The message made my cheeks burn. He had a way of flirting through words alone, small enough to be harmless to anyone else but enough to make me dizzy.
I got back to work, but every time the chat buzzed, I had to stop myself from smiling too widely. Even Marcus, passing by, gave me a knowing nod, a silent acknowledgment that this was… different.
By late afternoon, as the office emptied and sunlight slanted across the floors, my phone vibrated one last time:
"Careful today. I'll check in tomorrow. Make sure you're prepared"
No emojis this time, no teasing. Just the weight of attention.
I closed my laptop, heart still racing, and leaned back in my chair. Alone, with the office quiet, I realized something: he didn't need to be near me to make me feel… exposed. Observed. Desired. The flirtation was subtle, digital, fleeting—but it made every glance, every movement, every thought feel heavier, more charged.
Walking home, I kept glancing at my phone, half-expecting another note, another teasing comment. I wasn't embarrassed. I wasn't scared. I was aware, aware in a way that made my chest tighten and my mind spin.
Alexander Thorn didn't have to stand in front of me to make me feel his presence. And somehow, that awareness made everything—my calm, my focus, my control—crack just enough to be thrilling.