The next day at work, Cindy arrived early as usual, heart still tight from the lingering tension of the past days, yet determined to appear calm. Fear still pulsed quietly under her skin, but she had one mission—perform her work flawlessly. She would not let anything, not even Adrian, shake her professionalism.
As she stepped into the office, Floral's sharp eyes immediately caught hers. The warning look was unmistakable: don't let anything slip today. Cindy ignored it, moving with purpose. She was here to work, and nothing else mattered.
She sensed it before she even heard it—the low hum of Adrian's car in the parking lot, the prelude to his arrival. Her hands moved quickly and efficiently, preparing his coffee. The aroma filled the office as she finished, shutting off the machine just as the door opened. Adrian stepped into the office, tall and commanding, his presence immediately filling the room. Cindy approached, placing the cup on his desk with precise care.
"Good morning, sir," she said, her voice calm, even. Then she read out his itinerary for the day before retreating to her office to finish the documents left incomplete from yesterday.
Sitting at her desk, Cindy's mind briefly flickered back to the weekend—the restaurant, the lingering look in Adrian's eyes. Her stomach tightened at the memory, but she forced herself to breathe deeply. Everything is strictly professional. Nothing attached. She repeated it like a mantra, though her heart betrayed her resolve.
Adrian, on the other hand, could not stop thinking about her. Every detail lingered in his mind: the gentle way her hand brushed his face, the precise click of her heels, the way she opened doors, the respectful yet deliberate way she called him sir. How she made his coffee, arranged his documents, moved through the office—it all fascinated him. Every gesture, every sound, every glance etched itself into his memory. Adrian realized she was no longer invisible to him.
He didn't know, however, that behind Cindy's calm exterior, a storm of fear brewed. Every text message that had unsettled her. Every outing that made her heart race. Every dinner, every drop-off, every subtle closeness that frightened her. She said nothing, because she had sworn—everything must remain professional, no emotions attached.
As the day passed, the office gradually emptied. The chatter, the movement, and the distractions vanished, leaving only the two of them in the building. Darkness settled outside the windows, casting long shadows across the empty office. The tension thickened. Adrian saw his chance.
"Cindy," he said, voice smooth but deliberate, "stay back tonight. Bring your work to my office. I want to look closely at the changes you made in the documents."
"Okay, sir," she replied calmly. She collected her laptop, walking to his office without hesitation. Adrian watched her every movement, noting the subtle strength in her posture, the quiet precision of her steps.
When she placed her laptop on his desk and looked up, she caught his gaze fixed on her. She paused, heart quickening, but masked it immediately.
"Sir, is everything okay?" she asked, maintaining her professional tone.
"Yes, Cindy. Continue with your work," Adrian replied, a small, calculated smile playing on his lips.
Cindy focused, typing rapidly, but Adrian's attention remained on her. He studied her methodical movements, the slight way she adjusted her hair or glasses, her calm determination. Then an idea came to him, subtle and dangerous.
"Cindy," he asked, voice casual yet probing, "how comfortable are you living alone? Don't you ever get scared, sleeping by yourself at night?"
Cindy froze briefly, caught off guard by the personal nature of the question. But she remained professional, selecting her words carefully.
"No, sir," she said evenly. "I'm used to it. It's more peaceful than sharing my space with a stranger."
"That's good," Adrian said with a nod, then shifted his tone, cold and commanding. "Carry on with your work. Finish it before going home. A new file will be waiting for you tomorrow."
Cindy felt a shiver of intimidation at his sudden shift, but she forced herself to remain focused. Professionalism first, emotions second, she reminded herself.
"I should be done in twenty minutes," she said without flinching. "Then I can leave for home."
Adrian's gaze lingered on her. He felt a subtle thrill in her composure, her ability to remain undistracted in his presence. She didn't flinch, didn't hesitate—her strength intrigued him, drew him in, challenged him.
Finally, Cindy stood, laptop in hand, adjusting her glasses with quiet elegance.
"I'm done, sir. I'll leave now so I can be home before ten," she said politely.
Adrian nodded, then paused, lowering his voice slightly. "Wait. Spend the night at my place. We could watch a movie after dinner before you go to sleep."
Cindy's heartbeat quickened. Her body reacted before her mind could assess the situation. Sleeping alone at her place was unnerving—but she reminded herself of the promise she had made: strictly professional, no attachment, no hesitation.
"Okay, sir," she replied softly, "Let me get my bag from my office."
She walked out, mind unsettled, aware that something irreversible had started between them. Adrian allowed himself a private acknowledgment: Cindy was no longer invisible to him.
On the drive, the silence between them was heavy but charged. Adrian's thoughts churned: her strength, her composure, her calm defiance—it fascinated him, ignited something he hadn't expected. Cindy, meanwhile, forced herself to focus on the streets ahead, attempting to maintain the same professional detachment she always had. But deep down, she knew her rules were cracking.
By the time they arrived at Adrian's apartment, Cindy's hands were steady, but her pulse betrayed her. Adrian opened the door and motioned for her to enter, his eyes lingering on her just a fraction too long. Cindy swallowed the lump in her throat and reminded herself—professionalism. Her mind repeated the mantra, even as Adrian's gaze threatened to make it meaningless.
Dinner was quiet, yet every movement, every glance, every word carried tension. Words left unsaid hung heavily in the air. When the movie started, they sat side by side, inches apart, and Cindy's thoughts raced. I'm here for work. Just for work. Yet the warmth of proximity, the subtle scent of Adrian, the way he seemed to study her silently, chipped away at her defenses.
By the time the night ended, Cindy was certain of one thing: she had crossed a line, willingly or not. Something between her and Adrian had shifted. And Adrian, silently acknowledging it to himself, knew it too—Cindy was no longer invisible.