Silver Adams felt the weight of the week pressing down on her like never before. After the café incident with Daniel, whispers had spread subtly through Cole Media. Even though Raymond had stood firmly by her side, she could feel judgment hiding behind polite smiles, subtle glances, and unasked questions.
She hadn't slept well. Each night, she replayed the café meeting in her mind, imagining every possible outcome—what if Daniel tried to reach her again? What if people misinterpreted her intentions? What if Raymond began to doubt her strength?
When she arrived at the office, she tried to bury these fears under a professional mask. She reviewed manuscripts, checked emails, and delegated minor tasks. But the unease clung to her like a shadow.
Raymond, as always, noticed.
He approached her desk silently, his presence alone bringing a small measure of calm.
"Morning," he said quietly.
"Morning," she replied, her voice steadier than she felt.
He leaned slightly, lowering his voice. "You don't have to face it all alone."
Silver looked up at him, biting back the anxiety in her throat. "I know. But some things… some things I have to navigate myself. You've done more than enough."
Raymond's gaze softened. "More than enough isn't enough when it comes to someone I care about."
Her chest tightened. She wanted to argue, to brush the words aside, but she couldn't. The sincerity in his voice disarmed her.
"Raymond…" she began, hesitating. "I don't want this to affect our work. Or… us."
"Then we make sure it doesn't," he replied firmly. "We control what we can, and we face the rest together. Always together."
For a moment, she let herself breathe. Let herself lean on the strength he offered without fear.
The day moved slowly, filled with meetings and manuscript reviews. Yet a quiet tension simmered beneath each task. The board's subtle scrutiny, the lingering presence of gossip, and the knowledge of Daniel's brief reappearance created a pressure Silver wasn't accustomed to. But she refused to crumble.
During a mid-afternoon break, Raymond found her again—this time in the small lounge near the window. The sun slanted through the glass, painting gold on her hair, highlighting the sharpness of her jaw, the way her eyes narrowed when she was deep in thought.
"You're tired," he observed.
"I'm fine," she replied, though her voice wavered slightly.
"No, you're not," he said gently, stepping closer. "You've been holding back more than just words."
Her breath hitched. "I… I'm trying to stay in control."
He reached out, resting his hand lightly on her shoulder. The touch was grounding, unspoken, commanding yet tender. "Control isn't weakness, Silver. But sometimes it's okay to let someone else hold it for you, even briefly."
Her pulse quickened, her lips parting slightly, but she forced herself to look away. "I can handle myself."
"I know," Raymond said. His tone softened, but the intensity in his eyes did not waver. "And yet, I can't help wanting to protect you."
The words hit her in a way she hadn't expected. She had spent so long learning to protect herself, to guard her heart. Now, here he was—someone she trusted implicitly—offering her safety without demands, without conditions.
Later that evening, the office emptied, leaving only Silver and Raymond in the quiet hum of fluorescent lights and clicking keyboards. Silver closed her laptop, stretching slightly, aware of how close he was as he walked past her desk.
"Come with me," he said softly.
"Where?" she asked, though her curiosity—and something deeper—pulled her along.
"To my office," he replied simply.
Inside, he closed the door behind them. The office was warm, quiet, and private. Raymond leaned against the desk, arms crossed loosely, his gaze fixed on her.
"I need to know you trust me," he said quietly. "Not just with work, not just with the office—but with yourself. With your feelings. With me."
Silver's heart thumped painfully in her chest. She took a step closer. "I… I do."
He smiled faintly, but his eyes remained intense. "Good. Because soon, you'll have to show me just how much."
She shivered at the unspoken promise in his tone. The day had left her exhausted, vulnerable, and yet completely alive. For the first time in a long time, she wasn't afraid to let someone see her completely.
Raymond's gaze softened, but the intensity lingered. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "You're stronger than anyone I know," he murmured. "But even the strongest people need someone to lean on."
Silver's chest rose and fell rapidly. She swallowed hard, a flush warming her cheeks. "I've been leaning," she admitted. "On you."
"That's all I need to hear," he said quietly. "And soon, I'll show you how much I can hold."
By the time Silver left the office that night, the tension between them had grown almost tangible. It wasn't just desire—it was anticipation, trust, and a slow, simmering heat that neither could ignore.
For the first time, she realized something important: love, passion, and vulnerability were not enemies. They were intertwined. And soon, she thought, they would have to face that reality together.
Across the city, Raymond stared out at the skyline, hands clasped behind his back. He had kept his composure all week, held the line for her, protected her reputation, and defended her against gossip.
Now… the part he'd been waiting for—the part he wanted more than anything—was near.
And he wasn't going to wait any longer.