Kate arrived at the office early the next morning on purpose. Not because she was eager to start the project, but because she absolutely refuse to let Daniel Hale think he had any kind of upper hand.
The office lights were still dull
when she stepped in, the city outside barely awake, dawn smudging the sky with pale gold. She placed her bag on her side of the desk, opened her laptop, and took a slow breath.
Control.
That was the goal henceforth.
She'd barely taken her second sip of latte coffee when the door opened behind her.
It was Daniel Hale.
He looked different today. He wore no jacket. White shirt open at the collar. Sleeves rolled up. Hair slightly undone, as if sleep had fought him and lost. He was less polished, more casual but dangerously dashing.
Kate pulse betrayed her.
She hated it.
"Good morning," he said.
She didn't look up. "You're early."
"So are you."
"I prefer peace before chaos."
His lips curved faintly. "Then you picked the wrong office."
She shot him a sharp glare. "Let's get one thing straight. I don't want friendly banter."
"Relax," he replied, setting his laptop down. "I didn't come seeking for friendship. To be sincere, I am not interested in befriending you."
"Good. At least they agreed on something."
They worked in silence for nearly an Two hour. No passive-aggressive comments. No pointed looks. Just the soft clacking of keyboards and the distant hum of traffic.
It should've been comfortable. It wasn't.
Every time Daniel shifted in his chair, Kate noticed. Every time he stood to retrieve a file, her attention followed before she could stop it. He moved with an easy confidence that wasn't loud or ostentatious-just present.
Annoyingly present.
"Why did you choose Westbridge?" she asked suddenly, breaking the quiet.
He looked up. "Because it matters."
She scoffed. "Everything 'matters' when there's money involved."
"That's not why I meant."
She studied him now, suspicious. "I'm listening."
Daniel leaned back slightly, fingers steepled. "Westbridge used to be a community. Not an investment opportunity. My mother grew up there."
That caught her off guard.
"She grew up there?" She asked, voice calm.
"Yes." Daniel replied.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"You never asked."
Fair enough.
Kate exhaled slowly. "My father did pro bono work there after the layoffs. Helped people keep their homes."
Daniel nodded once. "Then we're aligned."
"Don't mistake a shared history for shared trust."
"I wouldn't dare."
Another silence fell—but this one felt different. Less hostile. More… charged and deliberate.
The door burst open.
"Kate!"
She winced.
Maya, her assistant and best friend stormed in, eyes blazing. "Tell me it's a lie. Tell me you're not sharing an office with…."
She stopped short when she saw Daniel.
"Oh," Maya said flatly. "You're real."
Rowan stood, polite as ever. Nice to meet you. I'm Daniel Hale."
Maya ignored his hand. "Of course you are."
Kate pinched the bridge of her nose. "Maya, please."
"No," Maya said. "No, please explain why the universe hates you."
Daniel's lips twitched. "I get that a lot."
Maya turned to Kate. "I'll be outside. I have to process all of this.."
She left without another word.
Kara sighed. "She's protective."
"So I've noticed."
"You don't get to be offended."
"I'm not," he said quietly. "I'm used to it."
Something about the way he said that—resigned, unbittered—settled uneasily in her chest. She wanted to ask more. A part of her wanted that. She didn't. Instead, she turned back to her computer and continued typing.
The rest of the morning passed in tense cooperation. They debated budgets, timelines, logistics. Daniel was sharp. Thorough. Unflinchingly fair. It made hating him… inconvenient. Daniel couldn't help but be amazed by Kate ideas and Capabilities. She was far different from the girl had met before.
By lunchtime, Kara's head throbbed.
"I'm stepping out," she said, standing. "I am hungry."
He stood up "I'll join you."
She turned slowly. "No way."
"Too late," he said, grabbing his wallet. " My treat."
Kate reluctantly agreed.
They walked to a nearby café in stiff silence. The place was small, crowded, warm. Unlucky for them, there were no empty tables.
"Great," Kate muttered.
Daniel gestured toward the counter. "Takeout?"
Before she could respond, someone bumped into her from behind. She stumbled forward, straight into Daniel's chest. His hands came up instinctively, gripping her arms to steady her.
Their eyes locked.
They were too close. Kate could smell him—clean, warm, unmistakably him. Her palms rested against his chest, solid beneath her fingers. His breath hitched, just slightly. For few seconds, the world narrowed.
Then she pulled away sharply.
"Don't touch me," she snapped.
Daniel raised his hands. "You bumped into me."
"You pulled me closer."
"A simple thank you don't harm your pride."
"Excuse me? " she snapped.
The cashier cleared her throat loudly. "Your order, please."
They ordered in silence and ate standing by the window, backs stiff, shoulders tense.
"I don't hate you," Daniel said suddenly.
Kate nearly choked. "Excuse me?"
"I said I don't hate you."
She laughed, short and incredulous. "Congratulations?"
"You hate me," he continued. "I get that. I just want you to know—it's not mutual."
Her gaze hardened. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"
"No," he replied. "It's supposed to make this workable."
She stared at him, chest tight.
"You don't get to decide how I feel."
"Then don't punish me for feelings I didn't create."
The words landed deep.
Too deep.
They returned to the office without another word.
That evening, a storm rolled in—thunder cracking, rain pounding against the windows. The building emptied quickly, lights dimming floor by floor. Kate glance at the time. Office hours had long ended.
She packed up, stood—
And the power went out.
The office plunged into darkness.
"Fantastic," she muttered.
"Stay where you are," Daniel said calmly from across the room. "Emergency lights should kick in."
They didn't.
Rain lashed harder. Thunder shook the glass.
"I hate storms," Kate said quietly, before she could stop herself.
Daniel paused. "You don't have to pretend with me."
"I'm not pretending," she said, her voice tight. "I just don't like being… trapped."
He moved closer, slow and deliberate. She could barely make out his shape in the dark.
"You're not alone," he said.
Her heart raced.
"I don't need comfort."
"I know," he replied. "I'm offering presence."
That was worse.
She hugged herself, jaw clenched. The thunder boomed again, closer this time. She flinched.
Daniel noticed.
"Hey," he said softly. "Look at me."
She didn't want to.
She did anyway.
In the darkness, his eyes seemed gentler. Less guarded.
"You're safe," he said. "I promise."
Something inside her cracked.
Not enough to break.
Just enough to ache.
The lights flickered back on moments later. Kate stepped away immediately, mortified.
"Don't read into that," she said.
"I won't," Daniel replied.
But the look he gave her said otherwise.
And as she walked out into the storm, Kate realized something terrifying.
The enemy line wasn't just burning. It was starting to blur.