I tried to focus.
I really did.
The designs in front of me were clean, modern, impressive. Anyone else would've been excited to work on something like this.
But my mind kept drifting back to four dangerous words.
You're safe here.
I didn't know when anyone had last said that to me and actually meant it.
I made notes carefully, forcing myself to be professional. Every few minutes, I glanced at the glass wall without meaning to.
Arvan was on another call.
Serious. Controlled. Untouchable.
The CEO everyone feared.
It was hard to believe that the same man had held me like I was something fragile.
My system notification chimed.
Meeting in 5 minutes — Executive Conference Room
My stomach tightened.
Of course.
The conference room was already half full when I entered. Senior staff. Department heads. People who looked like they belonged here.
I didn't.
Arvan walked in last.
The room straightened instantly.
He took the seat at the head of the table, eyes scanning the room before landing briefly on me.
Not lingering.
Not obvious.
But intentional.
"Let's begin," he said.
The meeting moved fast. Numbers. Strategy. Deadlines.
Then—unexpectedly—
"Mira," he said.
Every head turned.
"Yes?" I answered, heart racing.
"You reviewed the design file. Thoughts?"
I froze.
I hadn't expected him to put me on the spot like this.
But something in his expression told me he already knew my answer.
I inhaled slowly. "The concept is strong, but it feels distant. If we want engagement, the palette needs warmth. Something that feels… human."
Silence followed.
My palms dampened.
Then Arvan nodded.
"She's right," he said simply.
Just like that.
No debate.
No questioning.
The room shifted.
People scribbled notes. Someone nodded thoughtfully.
My heart pounded—not with fear this time, but something else.
Validation.
The meeting ended shortly after.
As everyone stood and began filing out, a woman I didn't recognize paused beside me.
"Lucky," she said quietly.
"Sorry?"
"To have his attention," she clarified, eyes sharp. "He doesn't give it easily."
I forced a polite smile. "I'm just doing my job."
She didn't look convinced.
Neither was I.
Back in my office, I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.
A few minutes later, a shadow appeared at the glass wall.
Arvan.
He knocked once before entering.
"You handled that well," he said.
"You put me on the spot," I replied.
"I wanted to see if you'd fold."
I blinked. "Excuse me?"
His lips curved slightly—not a smile, but close.
"You didn't."
"That doesn't feel like a compliment."
"It is," he said calmly.
He paused, eyes settling on me.
"You don't shrink when you're challenged."
I swallowed. "You shouldn't test your employees like that."
"You're not like the others."
The words landed heavier than they should have.
"That's not always a good thing," I said softly.
His gaze darkened.
"It is to me."
The air shifted.
Dangerously.
I stepped back half a pace. "We should keep things professional."
"I am," he replied.
Then added, quieter, "But professionalism doesn't erase awareness."
My heart stumbled.
"Awareness of what?" I asked.
He held my gaze.
"Of you."
Silence stretched between us.
Not awkward.
Charged.
Then his phone buzzed. He glanced at it and exhaled.
"I have another meeting," he said. "Finish the revisions and send them to me."
He turned to leave, then paused.
"And Mira?"
"Yes?"
He looked at me—not cold, not guarded.
Just honest.
"You don't owe me anything for that night."
I nodded, throat tight.
"I know."
"Good," he said. "Because I won't accept guilt as currency."
He left.
I sank into my chair, heart racing again.
Because somehow, without crossing a single line…
Things between us were already anything but simple.
And the scariest part?
I didn't hate it.