By Kaitlyn Ann

It was either late evening bleeding into night or too early morning. Vivienne wasn’t entirely sure anymore. Time had flattened into something abstract, measured only by the cooling of her coffee and the ache between her shoulders. Most of the overhead lights were off, leaving pools of illumination where a few people still lingered. Her office was one of them.

Three monitors glowed in front of her, each displaying a different version of the same story. Or what was supposed to be the same story.

Vivienne leaned forward, elbows braced on her desk, eyes flicking between columns of numbers. She’d already run the margins twice. Then again a third time. Then from scratch, pulling raw data instead of relying on the summarized reports. The acquisition model was open in one window, timelines in another, projections stacked neatly beside them.

Her pen hovered over the legal pad beside her keyboard, frozen mid-note.

“That doesn’t…” she murmured, stopping herself before finishing the thought.

She exhaled, rolled her shoulders back, and told herself that she was just tired. That this was what happened when you stayed late too many nights in a row. Numbers blurred. Logic skipped steps. Human error, nothing more.

So she started over. She closed two tabs. Reopened them. Re-entered formulas by hand instead of copying them over. Checked her assumptions. Verified the source data. Her fingers moved on muscle memory now, precise and methodical, even as a low, unwelcome tension began to coil in her chest.

The margins technically worked. On paper, they reconciled. But only if you didn’t look too closely.

Vivienne narrowed her eyes, leaning closer to the screen. The projected returns followed the expected curve, but the underlying costs didn’t line up with the timeline. There was a delay buried in the reporting. It was small enough for most people to miss, but significant when extrapolated. A smoothing adjustment that made everything look viable when it shouldn’t have.

Her pen hit the pad this time, scribbling a note she immediately crossed out.

No. That had to be her.

She reran it again.

Same result.

Her stomach dipped.

Vivienne sat back in her chair, hands resting flat on the desk as she stared at the screen. The office around her seemed to grow quieter, the faint hum of HVAC suddenly loud in her ears. She swallowed, her throat tight.

She pulled the raw figures again, isolating one variable at a time. When that still didn’t resolve it, she checked the timestamps. The approvals. The revisions. Somewhere between version three and version five, something had shifted. Not enough to trigger alarms, but enough to matter. Enough to be intentional.

Her pulse ticked faster, anxiety threading its way through her concentration. She didn’t want to be right. Being wrong was fixable. Being wrong meant correcting a mistake and moving on.

Being right meant something else entirely.

Vivienne glanced at the clock in the corner of her screen, then toward the glass wall separating her office from the corridor. Jake’s light was still on.

She hesitated. She was nervous about bringing it to him. How it might look. She imagined the conversation, her words tripping over themselves. I think I made a mistake. She imagined disappointing him, imagined his trust in her recalibrating.

She stood, gathered her tablet and legal pad, and forced her shoulders back into something resembling composure. Whatever this was, it wasn’t going to resolve itself by sitting quietly on her desk.

Jake’s door was open when she reached it. He was standing at his desk, sleeves rolled up, reviewing something on his tablet. He looked up immediately when she knocked lightly on the frame.

“Hey,” he said, voice easy. “Everything okay?”

Vivienne nodded as she stepped inside. “I think so. I just…I wanted to run something by you. I might’ve messed up.”

Jake’s expression didn’t change, but his attention sharpened. 

“Okay,” he said simply. “Show me.”

She handed him the tablet, already framing the apology in her head. “I was rechecking the acquisition margins and I think I may have misapplied one of the adjustments. I just want to make sure before it goes any further.”

He didn’t interrupt. Didn’t reassure her prematurely. He took the tablet and read.

Vivienne watched his face as he scanned the data, watched the moment his stillness shifted from casual focus to something more deliberate. His jaw set. Not in a tense way, but intentional. His thumb stopped scrolling.

Jake looked up at her, eyes steady. Not alarmed. Not dismissive.

“You didn’t mess this up,” he said evenly. 

Jake handed the tablet back, his gaze never leaving hers.

“Sit for a second,” he added, already turning back toward the desk. “Let’s take this one step at a time.”

Jake settled into the chair behind his desk, tablet in hand already rerunning the figures Vivienne had been working on.

Then her phone rang. The sound cut cleanly through the silence. She glanced down out of reflex, already knowing what name she would see.

Ethan.

Her stomach dropped. Jake looked up at her instantly. The change in her was subtle. Anyone else might have missed it. The way her spine went rigid. The way her fingers curled in toward her palm like she was bracing for impact.

“You sure you want to take that?” he asked quietly.

It wasn’t accusatory. It wasn’t prying. Just a question offered with awareness.

Vivienne swallowed. She nodded once. “Yeah. I…I should.”

Jake stood without another word, already moving. 

“Use my office,” he said evenly. “I’m going to grab a coffee.”

“Thanks,” she murmured.

He hesitated just a fraction of a second longer, eyes searching her face, then stepped past her and out into the hallway. He didn’t go far. She could tell by the way his footsteps slowed instead of fading.

Vivienne closed the door then she answered on the second ring.

“What?” She said, keeping her voice low.

Ethan exploded through the speaker.

“Where the hell are you?” He slurred, words colliding into each other. “Do you have any idea how fucking late it is?”

Her grip tightened on the phone. “I’m at work.”

“Of course you are,” he snapped. “Always at work. Always got some excuse.”

She closed her eyes, pressing her free hand to the edge of Jake’s desk, grounding herself in the cool surface. “I told you this project would be demanding.”

“You didn’t tell me you’d disappear,” Ethan shot back. “You didn’t tell me I’d be sitting here alone while you play corporate golden girl.”

“I’m not—” She stopped herself, breath shaking. “I don’t want to do this right now.”

He laughed, harsh and humorless. “You never want to do anything right now unless it’s about you.”

Her chest felt tight, like the air had thinned. She lowered her voice further, instinctively. “You’re drunk.”

“And you’re ungrateful,” he barked. “Do you know how this looks? You running around late with your boss every night?”

Her pulse spiked. “That’s not what this is.”

“Oh?” His tone sharpened. “Then why do I never see you anymore, Vivienne?”

“That’s not fair,” she said quietly.

“Neither is you making me feel like I don’t matter,” he shot back. “I support you. I put up with this shit. The least you could do is answer your damn phone without acting like I’m the enemy.”

Her throat burned. She tasted copper.

“I have to go,” she said, the words coming out brittle.

“Don’t you dare hang up on me—”

“I have to go,” she repeated, firmer this time, and ended the call before he could finish.

The silence afterward rang just as loud.

Vivienne stared at the phone in her hand, then set it down carefully. Her hands were shaking. She folded them together, pressing her thumbs into her knuckles until the sensation anchored her back in her body.

When she opened the door, Jake was there. Not hovering. Not crowding. Just leaning against the opposite wall, coffee in hand, eyes already on her face.

“You okay?” He asked softly.

Vivienne nodded, though her chest still felt tight. “Yeah. Sorry.”

Jake didn’t comment on the apology. Didn’t ask who it was. He stepped aside to let her pass back into the office, his presence steady at her flank.

“Why don’t you take a minute?” He asked, voice low. “We can come back to the numbers.”

She met his gaze then, something fragile flickering behind her composure. 

“I’m fine,” she said, even as her hands betrayed her by trembling again.

“Hey,” he said quietly, just enough to pull her focus back without startling her. “You don’t owe me an explanation.”

Vivienne’s mouth pressed into a thin line. She nodded, eyes dropping to the floor for half a second before she lifted them again.

“I know.”

Jake took a slow breath. “But if something’s bothering you—” He stopped himself, recalibrated. “If there’s ever something you want to talk through, you don’t have to do it alone.”

The words were careful. Deliberate. No expectation attached to them.

Vivienne swallowed. She felt the weight of the offer more than the sound of it. The fact that he wasn’t asking what or who or why. Just opening a door and leaving the handle within her reach.

“I appreciate that,” she said softly.

Jake nodded once, accepting the boundary exactly as she’d set it. “Anytime.”

He stepped back then, reclaiming his seat behind the desk, shifting the dynamic back into something safe and familiar. Professional. Controlled. The way he always did when things brushed too close to the edge.

“Now,” he continued, tapping the tablet lightly, “walk me through what you were seeing again. Start with the margin discrepancies.”

Gratitude loosened something tight in her chest. Vivienne exhaled, steadying herself, and moved closer to the desk. She pulled the report back up on the screen, fingers more sure now that her focus had somewhere else to land.

“Okay,” she said. “So if you look at the acquisitions here—”

As she spoke, Jake listened with full attention, eyes tracking the data, nodding occasionally. No impatience. No distraction. Like the interruption hadn’t derailed her in his mind, just another variable they were accounting for.

Jake leaned in again, closer to the screen this time.

“Scroll back up,” he said.

Vivienne did, fingers steady despite the way her pulse had started to tick louder in her ears. The spreadsheet shifted, rows of figures snapping back into place.

“Here,” she said, pointing. “That’s where I first noticed it. The allocations technically reconcile, but only if you accept the revised cap.”

Jake’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

“The revised cap,” he repeated.

He took the mouse from her gently, not correcting her, just taking over as if this were the most natural thing in the world. His movements were precise. Efficient. He toggled between tabs, cross-referencing dates, approval codes, internal notes.

At first glance, it was clean. Almost.

Total acquisition spending: slightly under budget. No red flags. No system alerts. It was clean. Too clean.

Jake leaned back in his chair, eyes never leaving the screen. “All acquisitions over ten million require board approval,” he said calmly.

Vivienne nodded. “Simple majority. At least seven of twelve signatures logged.”

“And anything north of twenty-five million?” He asked.

“Preferably unanimous but I’ve seen it done with 10 or 11 out of twelve signatures. I would assume 10 of 12 is the absolute minimum you could move forward with.”

He exhaled through his nose. “Right.”

He pulled up the authorization history and sorted by timestamp instead of dollar amount. The screen refreshed.

There it was.

One acquisition, buried mid-quarter. Approved late on a Friday. Large enough to matter, small enough not to scream. The approval field populated, but when Jake clicked into it, the metadata told a different story.

Only one executive’s login was on it.

Rick’s.

Vivienne’s stomach dropped.

“That’s…that can’t be right,” she said quietly.

Jake didn’t answer right away. His eyes tracked down the line, then across, then back again, absorbing not just what was there, but what wasn’t.

“No board packet attached,” he said. “No recorded vote. No follow-up review.”

He switched tabs again, this time pulling the quarterly acquisition goal memo, the one that had set the original spending ceiling months before the deal closed.

The numbers didn’t match. The total acquisition spend listed on the public-facing reports sat comfortably within the cap. But when Jake toggled to the internal goal? They were over.

Not by a rounding error. And not by a few thousand.

“Thirty million,” Vivienne whispered, staring at the delta.

Jake nodded once. “Which means someone adjusted the reporting layer to make the totals reconcile.”

Silence settled between them, heavy and sharp edged.

“That kind of adjustment,” Vivienne said slowly, “wouldn’t trip alerts unless you knew exactly where to apply it.”

Jake’s mouth flattened. “And exactly who would be checking.”

He stared at the screen, then scrubbed a hand over his jaw, thoughts moving fast behind his eyes.

“Run something for me,” he said, already turning his chair slightly toward her. “Last year’s profits from new acquisitions. Quarter by quarter.”

Vivienne didn’t question it. She moved back to her tablet in front of her, fingers flying as she pulled the report parameters, filtered out legacy assets, isolated only newly acquired companies.

Jake didn’t sit still. He paced for a few minutes, then stopped behind her. Not close enough to crowd, but close enough that she could feel the shift in the room. His presence grounded her, even as the numbers on her screen made her uneasy.

The report finished generating. Vivienne stared at it for a second longer than necessary. Then she stood and walked back to him, tablet held in both hands.

“Jake,” she said quietly. “We have a problem.”

He took the tablet, eyes scanning the figures.

Fifteen million dollars. Loss. Not underperforming yellow. Red.

Jake’s gaze sharpened, raking over the breakdowns, the timelines, the margins that should have widened and instead collapsed.

“More acquisitions should mean growth,” Vivienne said, thinking aloud now. “Even conservative projections, this doesn’t make sense unless—”

“Unless one of them was a bad deal,” Jake finished.

He leaned back against the desk, one hand braced on the edge, eyes still locked on the numbers as possibilities lined up in his mind, one after another. A rushed acquisition. An overvalued asset. A favor. A cover. Or a deal that was never meant to succeed.

His father’s face flickered through his thoughts. Measured, charming, always five steps ahead of the room. Rick Seresin didn’t make sloppy mistakes. Which meant this wasn’t sloppy.

Jake looked up at Vivienne then, really looked at her.

She was tense but steady. Focused. Brilliant. The kind of person who noticed cracks long before buildings collapsed.

“You did exactly what you were supposed to do,” he said firmly. “This isn’t on you.”

Her shoulders eased a fraction.

“What happens now?” She asked.

Jake’s eyes went back to the screen, jaw setting with quiet resolve.

“Now,” he said, “we keep this tight. No speculation. No assumptions. We document everything.”

He met her gaze again, something steely and protective settling into place.

“And we figure out exactly what kind of mess we’re dealing with before it figures out we’ve seen it.”

-

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The office was already beginning to thin out by the time Vivienne realized how late it had gotten. The low hum of conversation had faded to just the occasional laugh near the elevators, and the clink of someone dropping keys. Overhead fluorescent lights began to blink off in sections as people started clearing out of the office for the day. Outside her window, the city had started to shift into evening. Windows from the apartment building across the street were starting to glow, and the street below was starting to get backed up with rush hour traffic.

Viv barely noticed any of it. She had two monitors and a legal pad in front of her. Her neat, slanted handwriting filling the page. Beside that was her coffee that had gone cold hours ago. She flipped a page, tapped a pen against her lip, and then typed another line of notes onto the Google document.

She liked this part of the day. When it’s quiet, and there’s no one watching.

She glanced up, momentarily startled, then relaxed when she saw John or maybe it was Josh. She remembered meeting him a few weeks ago in a meeting and hadn’t had any interaction with him since.

He had his jacket clung over one arm and his tie was loosened like he was already halfway out the door. He didn’t step inside her office, just leaned against the frame.

“Sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just…uh…heading out, and noticed you were still here.”

Viv gave him a small but genuine smile. “You’re fine. What’s up?”

Josh shifted his weight, eyes flicking briefly to the organized chaos currently consuming her desk. “I just thought I’d see if you needed another set of eyes or help with anything before I go. I can stick around for a bit if you want.”

She considered it for a half a second. Josh seemed smart. Reliable. And she could probably use another set of hands on what she was working on.

But another set of hands meant getting the work done earlier. Which meant going home earlier. Which meant a greater chance of getting home while Ethan was still awake. Ever since the 75th Gala a few weeks ago, she’d been finding more and more excuses to pull late hours at the office.

After a few moments, she shook her head. “That’s kind of you, but I’m okay. You should go home. I won’t be here too much longer.”

“You sure.”

“Positive.” She gestured vaguely at his jacket. “You’ve done your time today. Go enjoy your night.”

There was no condescension in her voice. No assertation of authority although her position was technically above him. Just certainty. Which left no room for argument.

“Right. Yeah, okay.” He lingered for a beat longer, then added, “you work…a lot.”

Viv’s smile didn’t falter, but something tightened behind her ribs. “Occupational hazard.”

Josh nodded like he understood, though she wasn’t sure he really did. “Well…don’t stay too late.”

“I won’t. Another half hour tops.” She lied.

He gave her a small smile, and then disappeared down the hall, footsteps retreating toward the elevators. A minute later the floor had grown still again.

Viv exhaled and turned back to the work in front of her. The silence of the now empty floor pressed in. She straightened a stack of papers, recentered herself, and dived back into the numbers.

She knows staying late is being noticed. She knows it’s logged, and probably quietly being tallied by someone in HR who has to review her time clock and payroll every two weeks.

But she also knows it’s necessary. Here, she’s in control. Here she's viewed as competent. Here, no one asks where she’s been or who she’s talking to or why she didn’t text back fast enough.

Her phone buzzed softly on the desk next to her. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, heart thudding once in her chest. She stared at the screen for a long moment before finally turning it face up.

Just an email notification. A calendar reminder of a Zoom meeting tomorrow. She let out a slow breath she didn’ realize she had been holding, and shook her head at herself.

“Get it together,” she murmured to herself.

She took a sip of the cold coffee, grimaced at the bitter taste, and pushed it aside. Then she pulled the legal pad closer, shoulders squaring as she refocused.

Meanwhile Jake was headed toward the elevators, his mind still turning over numbers and timelines when he noticed her light. One small rectangle of brightness down the hall, cutting through the dimmed office floor.

It was Vivienne’s office. 

He slowed without meaning to. It was well past seven now. Most of the floor was dark, and filled with the kind of silence that only settled after everyone else had gone home. Jake glanced at his watch, then back at the glow spilling through her glass walls.

He hesitated only a second before knocking lightly on the open doorframe.

“Hey.”

Vivienne looked up from her screens, startled for half a beat before recognition softened her expression.

“Oh…hi. I didn’t realize anyone else was still here.”

“I was about to say the same thing,” he replied, stepping just inside. His eyes flicked briefly to her desk, taking in the legal pads, reports, and the nearly untouched coffee. “What are you still doing here?”

She shrugged, casual on the surface. “Just finishing a couple things.”

Jake gave her a look that said he didn’t entirely believe that, but he didn’t call her on it. He’d learned, over the years, that people who stayed late usually had reasons they weren’t eager to explain.

“Do you have a minute?” He asked instead.

She straightened slightly in her chair. “Of course.”

“I’ve been reviewing acquisition options,” he continued. “There’s one in particular that’s…promising. High risk. High reward.” He paused, watching her carefully. “If it goes through, it’ll be one of the largest acquisitions Seresin’s made in years.”

Vivienne’s brows lifted almost imperceptibly. “That’s significant.”

“It is.” His mouth curved faintly. “Which is why I could use another set of hands. Someone who understands the numbers but also knows how they’ll land with investors.”

The implication settled between them.

“Was throwing around some names to bring on, and I kept coming back to you,” he said simply.

Internally Vivienne was a mixed bag of emotion. Pride that her name had been considered, proof of the hard work. Fear. What if she didn’t live up to the expectations? And then the immediate thought of Ethan’s reaction if he ever found out.

Jake watched the flicker of emotions cross her expression, the way her fingers tightened briefly around her pen before she set it down with care.

“You’d be reporting directly to me,” he went on. “It’ll mean long hours. Pressure.” His voice remained even. “But I wouldn’t offer it if I didn’t think you could handle it.”

She swallowed once. “I’m honored you thought of me.”

He shifted his weight, crossing his arms loosely. “I’ll be hands on with this project. We’ll review everything together. If something’s off, I want to know. Immediately.”

Vivienne nodded. “I can do that.”

“I know you can.” His gaze softened just a fraction. “But I want you to think about it. This isn’t something I need an answer on tonight.”

“Okay,” she said. “Thank you.”

“We’ll go over the details tomorrow,” Jake added.

He stepped back then, finally creating space, but not before his eyes flicked once more around her office. The quiet. The isolation. The fact that she was still here when she didn’t have to be.

“Don’t stay too late,” he said, echoing Josh’s words from earlier, though his tone carried something different, an undercurrent of expectation and maybe concern.

She gave a small, polite smile. “I won’t.”

Jake nodded once, satisfied enough for now, and turned toward the door. 

Vivienne watched him go. Only after the sound of his footsteps faded did she let herself lean back in her chair, breath slipping out of her lungs in a slow exhale.

* * * * * * * * * *

Vivienne accepted the project the next morning. She didn’t hesitate when Jake brought it up again the following day.  She listened, nodded, asked a few clarifying questions about timelines and deliverables, and said yes with the same calm professionalism she brought to everything else.

The work began immediately. What was meant to be a collaboration quickly became a rhythm: long days that bled into longer nights, drafts passed back and forth, calls with external analysts, projections revised and revised again. The acquisition was larger than anything she’d handled before—and that made her acutely aware of every line she signed her name to.

So she stayed late. Later than she ever had before. Usually well past nine or ten. She stayed because the numbers mattered. Because mistakes would inevitably happen and need to be caught. Because she needed this to be airtight.

And because, if she was honest with herself, staying late meant fewer hours at home.

Her office became a second skin. Legal documents multiplied. Coffee cups stacked and were cleared and stacked again. Her phone stayed face down more often than not, checked only when she was alone and braced for whatever waited there.

Jake noticed it all. He didn’t comment on the hours, not directly. But he started pacing his own evenings differently. His last meetings of the day were pushed up to earlier times, and conference calls wrapped faster. 

Some nights he passed her office with a nod and kept going. Other nights, he paused.

“Still here?” He’d ask, like it wasn’t already obvious.

She always smiled and said something about being almost done. She never was.

Their work sessions shifted subtly over the first few week. What had started as structured check-ins became longer reviews, deeper dives. Jake asked for her perspective more often because he trusted it. He let her challenge assumptions, encouraged her to push back when something didn’t sit right.

By the end of the week, most of the floor emptied by six.

By seven, the office felt hollow.

By eight, it was just the two of them more often than not, the city glowing beyond the glass like a separate world she barely remembered belonged to her too.

Vivienne told herself it was temporary. That once the deal stabilized, she’d pull back. That this intensity was situational.

Still she found herself listening for Jake’s footsteps in the hallway. And found herself straightening when he appeared in her doorway. She found herself steadying her breath when he stood close enough to read over her shoulder, close enough that she could feel the quiet gravity of him without ever being touched.

She told herself it was proximity. Fatigue. Stress.

She did not tell herself that she felt safer here than she had in a long time.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was the end of the first full week after being asked to join the project. It was just after seven on Friday night. Vivienne sat at her desk with her jacket draped over the back of her chair, sleeves of her blouse rolled just enough to keep them out of the way as she typed. Two monitors glowed in front of her, spreadsheets layered with notes and tracked changes. The faint scent of coffee lingered in the air, though this one she was actually drinking

Jake stood beside her desk, close enough that she could feel his presence even when he wasn’t speaking.

They’d been at this for nearly two hours.

“Walk me through that assumption again,” he said, voice low in the quiet office.

Vivienne nodded, fingers moving across her keyboard. “It’s conservative, but it gives us room if the market reacts badly in the first quarter post-acquisition. If we’re wrong, it’s a good wrong.”

Jake hummed thoughtfully. He leaned in, bracing one hand lightly on the edge of her desk as he scanned the screen. “You’re assuming investor nerves before they happen.”

“I’ve learned to,” she replied softly. “They don’t like surprises.”

“Neither do I.”

He shifted then, stepping just a little closer to her, and reached out to point at a line. His arm just brushed her shoulder as he leaned in. 

Vivienne’s body reacted before her mind could catch up. She felt a subtle change. The air around her suddenly felt warmer. Jake didn’t touch her, but his proximity registered all the same. The steady cadence of his breathing. The quiet confidence in the way he occupied space.

She wasn’t used to men standing this close without it meaning control.

He nudged her chair a fraction of an inch closer to the desk without comment, just enough to give her a better angle on the screen. The movement was efficient, practical.

Still, her fingers hesitated on the keys for half a beat.

“You sure you’re not burning yourself out,” Jake said quietly, eyes still on the numbers.

Vivienne blinked. “I’m fine.”

He glanced down at her then. “You’ve been here late every night this week.”

She swallowed. “So have you.”

“That’s different.”

“Because you’re the CEO?” She asked lightly.

“I’m not the CEO yet,” he replied.

She adjusted in her chair, trying to reset her focus, but Jake was already moving again. He stepped directly behind her this time to look over her shoulder and get a better angle. His presence closed in, careful but unmistakable.

Vivienne inhaled instinctively. Her brain was preparing for what always came next when she was cornered like this.

Jake clocked it immediately. He straightened slowly, taking a measured step to the side to give her a little space. His expression remained composed, but his attention flickered to her.

“You did good work here,” he said after a moment, voice steady. “This is clean.”

Her shoulders eased. Praise was not common in her world. And even when she did receive it, it was never sincere. This felt…different than all the praises she was used to. It felt genuine when Jake gave it.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“I mean it,” he added. “A lot of people can crunch numbers. Fewer understand the impact they could have. You’re always thinking ahead at different outcomes. I like that.”

Vivienne nodded, eyes still on the screen. She wasn’t sure she trusted herself to look at him just then.

Jake stepped back toward the desk, resting his hand near her mouse but not touching it. “Let’s save the rest for tomorrow. You’re starting to miss things you wouldn’t normally.”

She frowned. “Am I?”

“Mm-hm.” He tapped the screen lightly. “Right here. You corrected it earlier when you were doing your second review.”

She followed his gesture, heat creeping into her cheeks when she saw it. “Oh. You’re right.”

He smiled then, small and easy. “Happens to the best of us.”

Vivienne leaned back in her chair, exhaling slowly. “I didn’t realize how late it was.”

He checked his watch, then glanced around the quiet office. “You should head out.”

She hesitated. “I just want to—”

“Tomorrow,” he said gently. Not a command, but not quite a suggestion either.

She nodded. “Okay.”

As she started closing down her computer for the weekend, Jake watched the way she moved. He noticed the tension she seemed to always carry, and the way she seemed braced for something that never quite arrived.

When she stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder, they were suddenly on the same level. Their eyes met. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Vivienne felt it then…the strange, unsettling sense of safety she’d been trying not to acknowledge all week. The way being near him made her feel steadier, not smaller.

Jake cleared his throat softly. “You did good tonight.”

“Thanks,” she said. “For…staying and helping.”

He nodded once. “Anytime.”

They walked out together, lights clicking off behind them one by one, leaving the floor in darkness.

-

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Vivienne was already home when Ethan arrived. She’d changed out of the dress she’d worn to the 75th Anniversary party the second she walked through the door, the fabric suddenly feeling too much for her to tolerate. It lay draped over the back of a chair now like evidence she didn’t know what to do with. She sat on the couch in an old T-shirt and leggings, knees pulled up, television on but muted. The silence felt safer than sound.

The door opened hard. The sound cracked through the apartment followed by the dull thud of it hitting the adjacent wall before bouncing back. 

Vivienne didn’t look up. She didn’t need to. She heard the stumble first. The uneven drag of his shoes against the entryway rug, and the faint scrape of his shoulder catching the doorframe as he stumbled inside. He muttered something under his breath. 

The smell reached her a second later. Whiskey. Not overwhelming, but unmistakable. Enough to make her stomach sink. Her fingers curled tighter into the fabric of the couch cushion. Okay, she told herself. Okay. Just get through it.

When she finally glanced over, the version of him from the gala was already gone. The charming smile. The polished ease. The nice guy mask he put on when people were watching.

His tie was loosened now, hanging crooked at his collar like he’d yanked it down without bothering to untie it properly. The top button of his dress shirt was undone, the fabric rumpled, jacket tossed somewhere between his arm and the floor. His eyes were glassier than usual, focus just a fraction off, enough for her to know.

He drank more than he should have. And that meant it was going to be bad tonight.

He stood there for a second too long, swaying just barely, like he was deciding whether to take his shoes off or keep them on out of spite because he knew it bothered her when he tracked through the apartment.. Then he laughed to himself, low and humorless, and kicked the door shut behind him.

“You know,” he slurred. “That was some little show you put on.”

Vivienne’s shoulders tightened even as she kept her face neutral. She set her phone down on the coffee table with deliberate care, movements slow, non-confrontational. She knew better than to move too fast. Knew better than to sound defensive.

“Let’s just go to bed, Ethan.” She said quietly. “I don’t want to do this tonight.”

He scoffed, rubbing a hand over his jaw, pacing a short line across the living room like a caged thing. “Oh, we’re doing this.”

Her pulse picked up, that familiar warning thrum beneath her skin. She drew in a careful breath, bracing herself for what always followed when his pride had been bruised and alcohol had stripped away the last of his restraint.

Ethan stopped pacing and turned on her so suddenly she flinched despite herself.

“You really enjoyed that tonight, didn’t you?” He asked.

Vivienne lifted her eyes slowly. “What are you talking about?”

He laughed again, sharp and humorless, the sound scraping along her nerves. “Don’t play dumb. All dressed up. Smiling. Laughing with the boss. You looked real comfortable out there.”

Her chest tightened. “It was a work event.”

“Oh, don’t give me that.” He took a step closer, finger lifting as if to make a point. “You know exactly how it looked.”

She stood then, just enough to put the coffee table between them. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“That’s the problem,” he snapped. “You never think you do.”

The room felt smaller now. The air heavier.

“You stand there,” he continued, voice rising, “acting like you’re better than everyone else. Like you belong with them.” His hand cut sharply through the air. “Laughing with Seresin like you’re equals.”

Her stomach dropped.

“I am allowed to speak to my colleagues,” she said, carefully. “Jake is going to be the CEO. He’s my boss.”

“Jake,” he repeated, mocking. “You’re on a first name basis already, huh?”

She swallowed. “Everyone calls him that.”

“Oh, so that makes it okay?” He scoffed. “You think I didn’t see the way you looked at him?”

Something cold slid down her spine. “I didn’t look at him in any kind of way.”

“Bullshit.” His voice cracked with it. “You think I don’t know what it looks like when a woman’s trying to climb?”

Her breath hitched. “That’s not fair, Ethan.”

“Isn’t it?” He stepped closer again, and she felt the space compress. “You make more money than me. You sit in meetings I’m not invited to. You wear dresses like that and let people think—”

“I didn’t let anyone think anything,” she said, sharper now despite herself. “And my salary is not your business.”

That did it. His face darkened, something ugly flashing behind his eyes. 

“There it is,” he said. “That attitude.”

She shook her head. “This isn’t about money.”

“Oh, it absolutely is.” He laughed again, louder now, a little unsteady. “You don’t think it kills me, watching you walk around like you’re untouchable? Like you didn’t start from nothing? Like you didn’t get lucky?”

Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “I worked for everything I have.”

“And who do you think helped you get there?” He demanded. “Who was there when you were nobody? Who made sure you were taken care of when you didn’t have anything?”

The words stung because they were designed to. Because part of her still carried the weight of them.

“I didn’t sleep my way to the top,” she said quietly. “If that’s what you’re trying to imply.”

The silence that followed was thick. Then he smiled. Slow and mean.

“I didn’t say you did,” he replied. “But you’re not denying it either, are you?”

Her heart started to pound. “Ethan—”

“You think I’m stupid?” His voice rose, slurring just slightly now. “You think I don’t see what’s going on? New CEO shows up, and suddenly you’re right there. Smiling. Charming. Acting like you’re special.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” she said, fear creeping into her tone. “He’s only been here for a few weeks.”

“Men don’t need time,” he snapped. “Men like him don’t.”

She took a step back instinctively. “You’re drunk.”

That was the wrong thing to say, and she realized the mistake as soon as she said it.

His jaw tightened, nostrils flaring. “Don’t talk down to me.”

“I’m not—”

“I said don’t,” he cut in, stepping forward again.

Her back brushed the arm of the couch.

“Nothing happened,” she said, faster now. “Nothing is happening. You’re acting crazy right now! Do you even hear yourself?”

He reached out then, grabbing her wrist under the guise of emphasis, fingers closing hard around the joint. Pain flared sharp and immediate.

“Let go,” she said, panic threading into her voice.

“Stop pulling away,” he snapped, twisting her wrist as if she were the one being unreasonable.

She cried out softly, instinctively trying to jerk free. The movement threw them both off balance. His grip slipped, but instead of letting go, he shoved her. Not hard. But enough.

She stumbled backward, heel of her foot catching on the edge of the rug. The world tilted. Her shoulder slammed into the coffee table as she went down, pain blooming white-hot through her arm as she hit the floor.

For a moment, there was nothing but ringing in her ears.

Ethan stared at her, chest heaving.

“Great,” he muttered. “Look what you made me do. Guess that’s my fault too, huh?”

She curled instinctively, cradling her wrist against her chest. It throbbed already.

“You’re always so dramatic,” he went on, voice shifting now that he was annoyed. “If you hadn’t been acting like that, this wouldn’t have happened.”

Her vision blurred.

“I’m going to bed,” she whispered.

He scoffed. “Fine. Go to the bedroom. That’s what you’re good at, right?”

Vivienne pushed herself up slowly, every movement careful. Her wrist screamed in protest. She kept her face blank as she walked past him, past the man who was already rewriting the moment in his head to make this her fault somehow.

In the bedroom, she shut the door quietly and leaned against it, shaking.

As she lay curled on the bed later, wrist aching, tears slipping silently into the pillow, one thought looped again and again, cold and relentless: This is getting worse.

And for the first time, the fear wasn’t just of tonight. It was of how much worse it could still become.

* * * * * * * * * *

Vivienne arrives at the office at 8:02. It’s only two minutes late per her schedule. But almost a half hour later than she normally arrives based on her time sheet. It’s not enough for anyone else to notice, but Jake glances up from his computer the second she steps through the glass doors, and the first thing he registers is…something’s off. 

She’s moving carefully, like her body is full of glass and she’s terrified of breaking any piece of it. Her appearance is fine. She looks professional. But Jake can just feel that something’s off.

Her hair is smoothed back so sleekly it looks like she tried just a little too hard to style it. Her blouse is ironed, buttoned up higher than usual, sleeves tugged down to her wrists even though the office is warm today.

“Morning,” he hears her say to another employee as she makes her way to her office, voice steady enough that most people would take it at face value.

Jake doesn’t. He takes in every detail while tapping something on the screen to keep from staring too hard. Her shoulders, normally relaxed behind that polished posture, are lifted tight toward her ears. Her eyes skim past him. She goes straight for her office, fingers curling around the doorknob like she’s anchoring herself to it.

He doesn’t call out to her. He doesn’t ask if she’s okay. She’d only paste on that bright smile and tell him she’s fine, and they both know it would be a lie.

Vivienne’s door closes with its usual soft click, but her footsteps inside are too quick, too uneven. He hears her set her bag down with more force than necessary. Then nothing.

Jake leans back in his chair, watching her door for a beat longer than he should. Something’s wrong. The smallest fracture in a woman who’s always been so flawlessly put together that even her chaos probably has a theme and a color palette.

He turns back to his computer and the email he’d been looking at, but his mind stays fixed on her closed door. Because something in him has started paying attention to her in ways he can’t fully justify. 

She’s not his responsibility. She’s not his business.

But somehow, she’s becoming both. A tiny crack has appeared in Vivienne’s mask this morning. Barely visible. So small she probably thinks no one can see it. But Jake sees it.

* * * * * * * * * *

A few hours later Vivienne was halfway through reviewing a spreadsheet that needed to be sent out on the next newsletter to investors when she realized her jaw had been clenched for too long.

She forced it to relax, rolling her shoulders subtly in her chair. Her wrist ached dully beneath the sleeve of her blouse, the brace she’d picked up at CVS on her way into work hidden, but not forgotten. Every movement tugged at it, a small reminder of last night she couldn’t quite shake.

The office was humming with that pre-lunch energy. Keyboards were clicking as people responded to a few last emails before breaking for lunch. She could hear a few muted conversations drifting from down the hall, and caught the smell of burnt coffee wafting in from the break room.

She was just starting to feel steady again when a shadow crossed her doorway.

“Hey. I was hoping I’d catch you before you left for lunch.”

Her stomach dropped before her brain caught up. Ethan leaned casually against the doorframe, suit pressed, tie straight, hair neatly combed like he hadn’t stumbled through the apartment door the night before. 

He looked…good. Relaxed. Easy. Like nothing had happened.

“Oh,” she said carefully. “What are you doing here?”

He smiled. The same one he used on executives. On neighbors. On anyone who didn’t know him well enough to know what lived underneath it. 

“Thought I’d surprise you. Figured we could grab lunch.”

“I’m actually—” she started.

But he was already stepping inside, glancing down the hall. 

“Hey, Mark,” he called cheerfully to the guy from the neighboring office. “Still running that nightmare of a spreadsheet?”

Mark laughed. “Always.”

“Living the dream,” Ethan said, flashing a grin before turning back to Vivienne. “So. Lunch?”

Vivienne’s fingers curled tighter around her pen.

“Listen,” she said once they were alone again, keeping her voice even, “I can’t today. I’ve got a deadline. I was just going to grab something quick on my way home.”

“Come on,” he said lightly. “It’s just lunch. My treat.”

“I really can’t,” she repeated. “I need to work.”

His jaw tightened. He took another step into her office, close enough now that she could smell his cologne. 

“You’ve been brushing me off all day,” he said, the charm thinning. “You didn’t answer my texts.”

“I was working.”

“That didn’t stop you from sending emails to half the executive floor,” he snapped. His eyes flicked to the open door, then back to her. “Or is that the only time responding is important?”

Her pulse kicked. “Ethan. This isn’t appropriate.”

He laughed quietly, humorless. “Not appropriate? You make it real easy to feel small lately, you know that? Acting like you’re too busy. Too important. Like you don’t have time for me now.”

“That has nothing to do with this.”

“Doesn’t it?” he shot back. His voice rose just enough to carry. “Because from where I’m standing, you’ve been doing a great job reminding me how unimportant I am in your life.”

She pushed her chair back, standing. “You need to leave.”

Instead, he shifted closer, blocking her path to the door. 

“Or what? You’ll run it up the chain? Maybe to the new CEO?” His mouth twisted. “Is that what you’ve been doing? Sleeping your way into favor already?”

Her breath caught. “That’s disgusting.”

“Yet you didn’t deny it.”

“I don’t owe you a response,” she said, heart pounding. “Move.”

His jaw tightened. He took another step into her office, crowding the space behind her desk now.

“You embarrassed me last night,” he murmured, the words slipping out like a blade wrapped in velvet. “And now you’re doing it again.”

“Ethan, stop.” Her heart began to race. “We’re at work.”

“So?” His smile twitched. “You think that makes you untouchable?”

She stood, chair scraping softly against the floor. “Lower your voice.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he hissed, stepping closer. “You don’t get to act like I’m some inconvenience you can brush off.”

She could feel eyes nearby. The hum of the office suddenly became too loud..

“I said no,” she whispered. 

His gaze dropped just briefly then he looked at her again.

“You’re really pushing it today,” he said. “You know that?”

She could feel a knot forming in her stomach as fear started to settle into her chest.

“Ethan,” she said, barely audible, “this is my job. I really need to finish what I’m working on.”

“I think I’m a little more important than your job,” he snapped. “Or have you forgotten that?”

“Vivienne?”

Jake’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. She looked up to see him standing just outside her office, jacket slung over a forearm, a takeout bag in his hand. His eyes flicked from her face to Ethan’s position where he was standing far too close to her.

“Everything okay?” Jake asked, calm but sharp.

Ethan turned instantly, the switch flipping back on. 

“Oh hey. Yeah. Totally fine,” he said with an easy laugh. “I was just offering to take Vivienne to lunch.”

Jake didn’t smile. He looked at Ethan for a long, unreadable second. Then he shifted his gaze to her. “Hey, do you have a minute? I had a question about that report you sent out earlier.”

Relief hit her so hard she almost swayed.

“Yes,” she said immediately, already stepping around Ethan. “Of course.”

Jake stepped back to give her space, his hand lifting slightly, motioning down the hall. She didn’t look at Ethan as she passed him.

Jake waited until she was beside him before turning, his shoulder subtly blocking Ethan’s line of sight. 

“Thanks,” he said evenly. “Won’t take long.”

They walked away together, the murmur of the office swallowing them up. Vivienne didn’t slow until they turned the corner, her breath finally breaking free.

He led the way down the hall, past glass-walled offices and quiet conference rooms, until they reached his. He stepped inside first, then paused just long enough to make sure she followed before closing the door behind them.

Jake set the takeout bag down on the corner of his desk and turned to her. For a moment, he didn’t speak. Just looked at her. Really looked at her.

“You okay?” He asked quietly.

She nodded immediately. Too quickly. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

The lie slipped out automatically. Reflexive in a way that made her hate herself just a little. Jake’s jaw tightened. He didn’t call her on it. Didn’t argue. But he catalogued it away in his brain.

“Does he do that often?” His voice was low, even. Controlled.

Her stomach dipped.

“No,” she said. Another lie. Easier than the truth.

Jake held her gaze for a beat longer than necessary. She could tell he didn’t believe her. Could tell he filed it away instead of pushing. That somehow made it worse and better all at once.

“Okay,” he said simply.

He gestured toward the chair across from his desk. “Sit.”

It was firm enough that her body responded before her brain moved. But soft enough to not be cruel like Ethan’s commands so often were. 

Jake leaned back against his desk instead of sitting, arms folding loosely over his chest. “Have you eaten?”

She blinked. “What?”

“Lunch,” he clarified. “Did you eat?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “I was just going to grab something later. On my way home.”

His brow furrowed. “So that’s a no?”

Her lips pressed together. “…No.”

He reached for the bag and held it out to her. “Eat.”

She stared at it. “Mr. Seresin, I can’t—”

“Vivienne.” He said her name once, calmly. Not loud. Not sharp. Just enough to stop her. “It’s already here. You might as well eat it. I’ll order something else.”

“I don’t want to take your lunch.”

“You’re not taking it,” he replied. “I’m offering it.”

Something warm and unsteady settled in her chest. “You don’t have to—”

“I know,” he said. “I want to.”

She exhaled slowly, then reached for the bag. As she did her sleeve shifted, and that was when she saw his eyes drop.

To the brace. He stilled. His hand didn’t let go of the bag right away. 

“What happened?” He asked quietly.

Her pulse jumped. “It’s nothing.”

“You weren’t wearing that last night.”

She drew her hand back slightly, tugging her sleeve down. “I just twisted it.”

Jake straightened fully now. “When?”

She couldn’t think of a lie fast enough. Jake’s gaze lifted back to her face, steady and intent.

“Vivienne.”

The way he said her name this time wasn’t a command. But it wasn’t casual either. It was almost like he was quietly pleading with her to just tell him the truth.

“Last night,” she admitted.

“Did he do that?”

“No,” she said immediately. Too fast again. “It was an accident.” She added, trying to somehow smooth it over even if just a tiny bit.

Jake studied her for a long moment. Then he stepped closer, lowering himself into the chair across from her. Not crowding. Just closing the distance enough that she could feel his attention.

“I’m not trying to dig into your personal life outside of work,” he said. “I’m asking because I need to know if you’re safe.”

“I am,” she said softly.

He searched her face again. She could feel him deciding whether this was a time to push or whether this was a time not to.

“Okay,” he repeated. He nodded toward the bag still hovering between them. “Food.”

She took it this time, fingers brushing his. She pulled the container out, opening it slowly. The smell made her realize just how hungry she was.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“Eat,” he said again, quieter now.

She did.

Meanwhile Jake took a seat at the desk across from her, posture relaxed but attentive. He didn’t watch her eat, instead turning his attention to his laptop.

After a few bites, she felt the shaking in her hands ease. The tightness in her chest loosen just enough to breathe.

After about ten minutes he pushed back from the desk, and moved towards the door of his office. “I have a meeting I have to get to, but please feel free to use this space to finish eating. Take all the time you need.”

“And you?” She asked.

“I’ll order something,” he said, already reaching for his phone.

She nodded, and then watched him step out of his office.

-

Tags:

Vivienne stood in front of the bathroom mirror, the apartment quiet except for the low hum of traffic outside and the sound of the TV drifting from the living room. The overhead light cast a soft glow across the counter as she smoothed concealer beneath her eyes, blending carefully. She didn’t rush. Rushing led to mistakes, and mistakes led to comments.

She checked her reflection again. The dress was a midnight blue chiffon number. It was structured and elegant. It hung perfectly from her shoulders. Too perfectly, maybe. It hugged her waist just enough to feel intentional. Visible.

She tugged the sleeve down an inch, then another, even though there was nothing there to hide. She’d made sure to use concealer and foundation to cover up any marks that may be seen by others. Just in case. She couldn’t afford anyone at the office to grow more suspicious of her situation than they might already be.

From the bedroom doorway, Ethan’s reflection appeared behind her.

“You really going with that one?” He asked, arms folding across his chest as he leaned against the frame.

“I like this one.” Her shoulders tightened, barely perceptible. “And the email said it’s a formal gala.”

“So is half the stuff they throw,” he said. “Doesn’t mean you have to look like you’re trying to make an impression.”

She kept her eyes on the mirror. “It’s the seventy-fifth anniversary. Everyone’s dressing up.”

“Yeah.” His gaze dragged over her reflection, slow and assessing. “Especially when the new interim CEO’s going to be there.”

Her jaw set. “Jake Seresin was nice when I met him at the board meeting..”

“You know,” Ethan said lightly. “It’s funny how you always end up near the young execs at these things.”

She capped her lipstick and set it down with careful control. “I end up near the people I work with.”

“Right,” he said. “Your peers.”

She turned then, meeting his eyes. “I’m on the board. That makes them my peers.”

Something dark flickered across his face. Not anger. Not yet. Something tighter. Calculating.

“Must be nice,” he muttered. “To skip the field and go straight to the top.”

Her stomach curled. “I didn’t skip anything. I earned my position.”

“I know,” he said quickly, too quickly. “I’m just saying…tonight matters. For me too.”

She watched him carefully now. “What do you mean?”

He straightened, smoothing the front of his jacket like he was already practicing making himself look good to others. 

“I’ve been with this company almost ten years, Viv. People know me. This isn’t just your night. It’s mine too. New corporate role. Who knows, another year or two and I’ll probably be on the board with you.”

She nodded once. “I’m sure you will be.”

He stepped closer, reaching for the thin strap of her dress. “This is sitting wrong.”

“I’ve got it,” she said, instinctively lifting her arm to adjust it herself.

His fingers closed around her wrist before she could move. His grip was just firm enough to stop her.

“I said I’ve got it,” he replied, smiling tight.

A sharp pulse of pain flared as his grip tightened a fraction, thumb pressing into a tender spot she hadn’t realized was still sore. Her breath hitched despite her best effort to keep it even.

“Ethan,” she said quietly.

He released her immediately, hands lifting in surrender. “Relax. I was just fixing it.”

She pulled her wrist back, rubbing it once before she could stop herself. The ache lingered, small but insistent.

“Don’t be so sensitive,” he added, irritation creeping into his tone. “People are going to see you tonight. You can’t act like everything’s an attack.”

Her heart thudded once, hard. “I didn’t say it was.”

“You don’t have to,” he snapped.

Silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable.

She broke it first. “I’m leaving.”

“What?” His brows furrowed. “We were going together.”

“I’m going early,” she said, already reaching for her clutch. “You said yourself…this night matters to you. You should make an entrance.”

His eyes narrowed. “So you can get there first?”

“So I can breathe,” she said, the truth slipping out before she could stop it.

He scoffed. “Unbelievable. You know how it looks when my girlfriend walks in alone?”

She turned back to him, tired now. Bone deep tired. “I don’t exist to manage how things look for you.”

“You know, sometimes I think you try to embarrass me,” he said flatly. “You act like you’re better than me. Like you don’t remember where you came from.”

Her chest tightened. “That’s not fair.”

“Neither is this,” he shot back, gesturing vaguely between them. “You rubbing elbows with Seresin like you belong there and I’m just…what? A plus one?”

She didn’t answer that. She didn’t trust herself to. She would more than likely say the wrong thing and have to deal with the consequences of it later. She slipped into her heels, and moved past him toward the door.

“I want to be home by midnight,” he called after her. “I don’t want you out all night playing executive.”

She paused with her hand on the knob. “Okay.”

That was all she said as she made her way down the hall toward the front door. 

When the door shut behind her, she leaned back against it for just a second, eyes closing as she drew in a careful breath. Her wrist throbbed faintly. Her chest felt tight. But the quiet…God, the quiet felt like relief.

If I can just get through tonight, she told herself as she stepped into the hallway, everything will calm down with him.

* * * * *

The ballroom felt like a different world the moment Vivienne stepped inside. Light spilled from crystal chandeliers in warm golden layers, catching on glass and sequins and polished shoes. The air hummed with conversation. Low laughter, practiced charm, and the clink of champagne flutes. A live band played something smooth and nostalgic near the stage, the kind of music chosen to evoke legacy without distracting from it.

Vivienne paused just inside the entrance, fingers curling around her clutch. Relief washed through her first. She’d made it here alone, unimpeded, no major argument trailing behind her like a shadow. 

That relief lasted exactly three seconds before dread slid back in to take its place when she remembered that this would be the first company event both her and Ethan would be attending.

She adjusted her posture, shoulders back, chin up. Survive the night. That was the goal.

She drifted toward the edge of the room, instinctively seeking the perimeter. It was easier to breathe there. Easier to observe without being observed. A server passed with a tray of champagne, and she took one more for the excuse of holding something than because she was feeling thirsty.

That was when she saw him.

Jake Seresin stood near the center of the room, flanked by donors and board members, his presence unmistakable even from across the ballroom. Tailored suit that probably came with a designer label and a price tag with at least four numbers in it. He looked calm, carrying confidence, like the room adjusted to him instead of the other way around.

He smiled as someone spoke to him. It was magnetic. The kind of smile that said I know exactly where I am and why I’m here. 

Vivienne felt the familiar flutter of awareness in her chest, equal parts admiration and something she didn’t let herself name. He looked like he belonged to the legacy being celebrated tonight. Like he was already part of the story they were telling. And maybe in some ways he was.

She looked away quickly, heart ticking up a notch. It’s not safe to stare, she reminded herself.

That was when she saw Ethan.

He stood near a cluster of mid-level employees and junior directors. He blends in there in a way he never quite manages not to resent. Dressed in a dark suit that doesn’t quite fit, neutral smile, posture a little too rigid. His eyes are already on her.

But his eyes weren’t on the conversation.

They were on her.

Vivienne’s stomach dipped.

He didn’t wave or approach. He just watched, head tilted slightly, expression unreadable, tracking her movement through the room like he was marking territory.

The contrast hit her all at once, sharp enough to steal her breath.

Jake commanded space without trying.

Ethan barely moved at all.

She shifted her weight, angling her body so she was less visible from his line of sight, though she knew it wouldn’t help. She took a slow sip of champagne, the cool burn grounding her just enough to steady her hands.

This was what tonight was going to be, then. Being seen without being held. Watched without being touched.

Across the room, Jake laughed softly at something a donor said, the sound carrying just enough to draw attention. People leaned in toward him without realizing they were doing it.

Ethan’s gaze never left her.

Vivienne exhaled through her nose and squared her shoulders. She could do this. She had walked into boardrooms with worse odds than this. She had survived worse nights at home with Ethan.

Still, as the band swelled and the lights glinted brighter, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was going to end up standing between two very different kinds of power.

“Vivienne.”

Jake’s voice cut gently through the noise, close enough that she startled. She turned, and there he was, just a few feet away now, expression warm.

“Mr. Seresin. Congratulations,” she said immediately, because it was safe and expected and easier than acknowledging the sudden steadiness she felt just standing near him. “Seventy-five years is no small thing. Your family must be proud.”

“Please, call me Jake. Mr. Seresin is my grandfather.” He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “And thank you. But I think my father and grandfather would tell you we couldn’t have done it without great employees,” he adds. “You included.”

“Thank you,” she said softly. “That means a lot.”

They fell into an easy rhythm after that, light talk about the event, about how surreal the scale of it felt from the inside. Jake asked her opinion on a donor initiative that’s been pitched at a recent meeting, genuinely curious on her thoughts. She answered without hedging, and he nodded.

“That’s actually refreshing,” he said with a small smile. “Most people just nod and pretend they followed the numbers.”

She laughed softly. “Occupational hazard. I like to actually understand what I’m selling to investors.”

She didn’t notice at first how close they were standing. Or how her body had angled toward him.

Across the room, Ethan noticed everything. The way Jake leaned in attentively. The way Vivienne’s face softened, her posture easing in a way it never did around him anymore. The way she laughed at something Jake said, brief but real.

Ethan’s jaw tightened. He told himself it was nothing. Optics. Networking. Her boss is charming because that’s what men like Jake are good at.

But then Jake gestured subtly, clearing space so Vivienne wasn’t jostled by passing guests. Protective without touching..

And that’s when Ethan decided he’d seen enough. His glass goes untouched as he set it down. His smile fixed into place as he stepped away from his group, already plotting his angle of approach.

“Viv.”

Jake looked up as a man stepped in a little too close. Rigid posture. Jaw already set like he was irritated about something that hasn’t even been said yet.

Vivienne’s shoulders tensed immediately. She turned toward the man with a polite smile that didn't reach her eyes.

“Hey, I was just—”

“We need to talk,” Ethan cut in, his hand already settling at her elbow. Claiming.

Jake’s smile faded as he watched the interaction unfold.

“In a minute,” Vivienne replied evenly. “I’ll be right there.”

Ethan’s fingers tightened. It happened fast enough that most people wouldn’t notice. Fast enough to be written off as impatience. But Jake saw it, the way Ethan’s grip shifted from her elbow to her forearm. The way his knuckles went slightly lighter in color as he squeezed. The way her facial muscles tightened in response.

Jake’s jaw locked. His late mother’s voice surfaced without warning in his mind: A man who puts his hands on a woman like that is telling you exactly who he is without saying a word.

Vivienne stumbled half a step, catching herself before her drink sloshed over. Heat flashed across her face. Embarrassment first then something more carefully masked as she schooled her expression back into place.

“Hey.” Jake moved before he could think better of it.

He stepped just close enough that she wouldn’t feel crowded, his attention fully on her not Ethan.

“Are you alright?” He asked quietly.

Vivienne blinked. She nodded once. “I’m fine.”

Jake’s eyes flicked briefly to Ethan’s hand still gripping her arm, then back to her face.

“You sure?” He asked, softer still.

She inhaled, steadied herself, and gently but firmly pulled her arm free. “Yes. Thank you.”

Only then did Jake turn. He straightened, a subtle shift that changes the air around them.

“Jake Seresin,” he says evenly, extending a hand that was clearly not an invitation so much as a formality. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

Ethan hesitated for half a beat, then squared his shoulders, clearly relieved to have something to grasp onto.

“Ethan Price,” he said, voice stiff with forced confidence. “I work in field training and acquisitions for the central Texas region.”

Jake’s expression didn’t change. He gave a polite nod, the kind reserved for people whose names will not be remembered.

“Ah,” he said. “Mid-level.”

The word wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t even unkind. It was dismissive in the most effortless way possible.

Ethan’s jaw tightened. Jake glanced back at Vivienne, then at Ethan again, his tone calm but unmistakably firm.

“Miss Chase and I were in the middle of a conversation,” he continued. “I’m sure she’d be happy to let you know when she’s available once we finish.”

Ethan’s eyes flicked between them. He forced a smile that didn’t quite settle into place.

“Of course. My apologies, sir” he said tightly. “I’ll catch you later, Viv.”

Ethan stepped back, retreating into the crowd, his shoulders rigid, his pride visibly dented.

Then Jake turned back to her, lowering his voice again, the edge now gone.

“Do you know him?” He asked.

Vivienne hesitated for just a fraction too long.

“Yes,” she said. “We…yes, I know him.”

Jake studied her for a second. The way her shoulders stayed tight. The way her fingers curled around the stem of her glass like she needed something to do with her hands.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked.

Something warm and unsteady stirred in her chest. Relief, maybe. Or the strange ache of being offered a choice she wasn’t used to having.

“I’m okay,” she said.

Jake just nodded once, accepting the answer, even if he knows it’s not the whole truth.

“Okay. Well, I’ll be around. If you need anything, just let me know.”

Vivienne nodded, and then excuses herself. Her eyes scan the room trying to find an exit.

The hallway outside the ballroom was quieter, carpet swallowing the  sound, the glow softer and less forgiving. Vivienne exhaled as soon as the doors closed behind her, shoulders sagging just a fraction. She kept walking, heels clicking toward the restrooms, phone already in her hand.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Her blood went cold. Ethan stepped out from an alcove near the wall, like he’d been waiting. Jacket unbuttoned now, smile sharp and humorless.

“Ethan,” she said, keeping her voice even. “I’m just going to the restroom.”

“Sure you are.” He looked past her, toward the ballroom doors. “You and Seresin seemed pretty cozy.”

Her jaw tightened. “We were talking about work.”

He scoffed. “That’s funny. Because from where I was standing, it looked like you were auditioning.”

She started to step around him. He shifted, blocking her path.

“Careful,” he murmured. “People might get the wrong idea.”

Her pulse thundered in her ears. “Ethan, please don’t do this here.”

“Or what?” His eyes flicked down then back up, calculating. “You think he knows who you really are? Or what you’d be willing to do to keep climbing?”

The words landed like a slap.

“I earned my position,” she says, quiet but fierce.

Ethan’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s not what it looks like when you’re batting your lashes at the CEO.”

Something hot and ugly coiled in her chest. Anger, shame, fear, all tangled together. “You don’t get to talk to me like this.”

He leaned in just enough that she could smell the whiskey on his breath. 

“You don’t get to embarrass me like you did back there,” he said softly. “Remember that.”

Her hands curled into fists at her sides. For a second, she thought he might grab her. Instead, he stepped back abruptly, straightening his jacket as a pair of guests passed the end of the hall.

The mask slid back into place. Vivienne stood there for a long moment, heart racing, the quiet suddenly too loud. She pressed a hand to her ribs, grounding herself, forcing air back into her lungs.

Get through the night, she tells herself. Just get through the night.

Vivienne didn’t make it to the restroom. She made it halfway there before her chest tightened again. She knew that if she stayed, something worse would happen. Another scene. Another mistake by her in Ethan’s eyes. Another accusation she’d have to deal with at home.

She turned instead, heels pivoting toward the exit signs at the far end of the corridor. She could call an Uber from outside. She could be gone before anyone notices.

Jake stepped out into the hallway, adjusting his cufflinks absently.At the same time, a familiar figure slipped past him in the opposite direction.

Ethan. Returning to the festivities inside.

The timing is almost cruel. Jake clocked it immediately: the way the man avoided his eyes, the way Vivienne went rigid at the sight of him, the way her steps faltered like she was bracing for impact that never came.

“Hey,” he said gently.

Vivienne turned. Her face was too pale now, the composure she’d been holding together by sheer force clearly fractured. One hand was clenched around her phone like it was the only solid thing in the building.

“I—” She swallowed. “I was just heading out.”

Jake nodded once, accepting that without question. “You don’t look so good.”

“I’m fine,” she said automatically. The lie came easier than the truth, but her voice wobble at the edges.

Jake hesitated. He almost didn’t ask. But he’d bit his tongue earlier and this time, he just can’t.

 “You seemed…on edge earlier,” he said quietly. “And right now, you look like you’re doing your best to hold yourself together.”

She exhaled, long and shaky, staring down the hallway instead of at him. “I think I just need to go home.”

“Okay,” Jake said immediately. No argument. No pressure. “Do you want me to have a car called for you?”

Her shoulders loosened a fraction at that. “I can do it.”

“I know,” he said . “Just offering.”

A beat of silence stretched between them. Jake’s gaze flicked, just once, to the ballroom doors. Back to her.

“That guy who came up to you,” he says carefully. “Earlier.”

Her breath caught. Not enough to be obvious. But enough for him to notice though.

“You don’t have to explain,” he added quickly. “I just want to know…are you okay?”

Not what’s going on. Not who is he to you. Not why does he talk to you like that.

She nodded, even as her eyes burn. “I will be.”

Jake studied her for a long moment, jaw tight like he’d biting back a dozen questions. Whatever he was thinking, he kept it leashed.

“Alright,” he said finally. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

“That’s not necessary–”

“I know,” he repeated. “Humor me.”

They walked side by side down the quiet corridor. He didn’t touch her. But she could feel his presence there. It was steady. And for some reason she couldn’t quite name, comforting.

At the entrance, she stopped and turned to him.

“Thank you,” she said.

Jake nodded his head. “Get home safe, Vivienne.”

She hesitated, then adds quietly, “I’m sorry for leaving early.”

“Don’t be,” he said, voice low. 

Her throat tightened. She nodded once, then slipped outside into the night.

Jake watched her until the doors closed. Only then did he look back toward the ballroom, and toward Ethan. Something settled in his chest, heavy and certain.

Whatever wass happening in Vivienne Chase’s life wasn’t just stress.

And whatever that man’s role is in it?

Jake already knows he doesn’t like the answer.

-

Tags:

Vivienne’s POV

Vivienne stepped into the office before the sun had fully made up its mind about the day, the halls still hushed in that pre-rush quiet she’d come to depend on. Early meant predictable. Early meant controlled. Early meant fewer eyes.

She adjusted the strap of her bag higher on her shoulder, biting down on the wince that tried to break through. Too much weight. Too much pressure on already tender skin. She exhaled slowly, smoothing her expression before anyone could see it.

The lights hummed low. Computer screens blinked awake one by one as she made her way to her desk, kicking her storage drawer closed with the side of her shoe. She set her coffee down, took a careful sip, and opened her laptop.

By the time the rest of the floor started filling in, she had already answered twenty-three emails and color coded her entire week. A coworker, Ben, dropped into the chair in the office across from her with a dramatic sigh and a binder he didn’t seem to realize he was holding crooked.

“Morning,” he mumbled, flipping pages like he actually intended to read them.

“Morning,” she offered with a small smile, the kind that didn’t require teeth or too much emotional investment.

Ben’s binder slipped from his hand as he reached for his coffee. It smacked the desk, the pages slapping loudly against the hard surface.

Vivienne jumped so hard her chair skidded back an inch. Her pulse spiked, breath catching in her throat. For a second the room blurred. The sound shouldn’t have rattled her. But it did. Again. And again.

“Oh, sorry,” Ben said, wincing. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

She forced a laugh. “I’m fine. Just…wasn’t expecting that.”

“You’re jumpy today,” he teased lightly.

She smiled again, letting the conversation die off as he moved on to someone else’s desk. She waited until he was gone before unclenching her hands beneath the desk, her nails having left faint crescents in her palms.

She breathed. In. Out. Slow. It was fine. She was fine.

Around ten, she stood and stretched her arms above her head, trying to ease the stiffness across her shoulders. A sharp pull tugged along her right side where purple still lived beneath her sleeve. She brought her arm down instantly, swallowing the unwanted flicker of pain.

She needed to grab the package of printer paper from the shelf in the supply room above the printer. Easy task. Simple. Nothing to think about. But the shelf was higher than she remembered.

She reached anyway, stretching onto the balls of her feet. A pinch. Then a sting. Her fingers brushed the edge of the folder, knocking it sideways instead of pulling it free. A cascade of papers slid forward, tipping, and then the entire pile came down in a loud, messy avalanche.

The sound cracked through the room.

Vivienne froze.

Her heart hammered as she stared at the scattered papers, cheeks heating, throat tight. She crouched down quickly, trying to gather the pages before anyone made a comment. Before anyone noticed her hands shaking.

She hated the way something so small could flip her inside out. The way she had to work twice as hard to make sure nobody saw the cracks.

It was just another morning.

But it didn’t feel like one.

* * * * * * * * * *

Jake’s POV

Jake cut across the hallway, tablet in hand, already preparing himself for another meeting where his father would talk in circles and pretend Jake’s ideas were a personal insult.

He wasn’t in the mood for people. Or small talk. Or the corporate bullshit that oozed from every polished surface of the building.

But the soft thud of something hitting the floor pulled his attention.

He looked up. Vivienne Chase was crouched beside the communal printer, half a dozen files fanned across the carpet like a dropped deck of cards. She gathered them one by one, movements too careful. Too small. Like she had learned to minimize sound, minimize presence, minimize disruption.

Jake frowned before he could stop himself. 

He wasn’t supposed to notice things like that. Not as a CEO. Not on day two. Not about an employee who had already gotten wedged under his skin with nothing more than a steady voice and a presentation the day before.

Still he found his feet veering her direction without conscious effort. Vivienne swept another page into the pile, but the edges of her fingers trembled. Barely, but enough. Something about the sight made his chest tighten.

Then she reached for the last folder, the one half tucked under the copier, and her sleeve slid back. Just enough. Just enough to show a bruise. A dark mark blooming along her wrist. Fresh and angry. Exactly the kind a hand leaves.

Jake stopped moving. Completely. His breath caught in a sharp, silent inhale, the kind that locked behind his teeth and refused to release. For one suspended second, the entire hallway seemed to narrow until there was only that bruise and the woman trying desperately to hide it.

She didn’t even notice him yet. She just tugged her sleeve down fast, instinctive, practiced. Too practiced.

Jake’s stomach twisted as the truth settled in. 

Someone had put their hands on her. He knew the look of that kind of bruise. He’d seen it late at night on women who needed help but didn’t want to say the word assault. He knew the shape, the pressure, and the exact type of violence behind it.

And Vivienne Chase, who had been calm and polished and meticulous yesterday, was hiding one.

Jake took a slow step forward, forcing muscle by muscle to relax, to soften, to not spook her.

“Vivienne,” he said.

Her head jerked up so fast the papers fluttered in her hands. Her eyes widened. Surprise first. Then dread. It moved across her face in real time, like a storm rolling in.

“Oh…Mr. Seresin. I didn’t see you.” She tried to stand and gather the papers at the same time. She tried to make it all look normal.

But it wasn’t normal. None of it was normal. 

He crouched beside her before she could escape the moment. Not touching her. Not crowding her. Just close enough to share the same stretch of carpet.

“You alright?” He asked.

He didn’t push. Didn’t angle his gaze toward her sleeve again. Didn’t let the anger in his blood reach his voice. But she heard it anyway. The underlying steel. The careful restraint.

She swallowed. “Just dropped some files.”

Her hand reached for a folder beside his knee. Their fingers didn’t touch, but Jake’s hand stilled halfway. Not out of hesitation but control. Extreme, measured control. Because if he moved an inch wrong, she’d bolt.

Her sleeve slid again.

And this time she saw him see it.

Vivienne froze, eyes going glassy, breath stuttering. Her entire posture changed. Her shoulders went up, her chin tilted down, and her body tensed like prey waiting for impact.

Jake exhaled slowly through his nose.

“Vivienne…” he said again, and this time her name sounded different. Lower. Rougher. Wrapped in a warning bell and velvet.

Not pity. Not anger. Just a fierce, contained concern he didn’t bother hiding.

Her face went pale.

“I—I need to get to a call,” she blurted, the words tumbling out so fast they barely formed. She yanked her sleeve down hard, like she could erase what he saw. Like she could cut the connection between them before he reached whatever conclusion she feared.

Jake didn’t move. He let her scramble to her feet, let her clutch the files like a shield, let her flee down the hallway without a backward glance.

But he didn’t stand. He stayed kneeling on the carpet, one hand braced on his thigh, jaw clenched tight enough to ache. He stared at the spot where she’d been a moment ago, replaying the tremor in her voice, the panic in her eyes, the automatic way she hid the injury.

In the silence she left behind, a few truths settled hard and immovable in his chest: She wasn’t safe. And someone had hurt her.

And Jake, who had spent years mastering the art of staying calm under pressure, of holding his fire, of not making it worse, felt something hot and uncompromising unfurl in his ribs.

Protective wasn’t the word. It was deeper than that.

He finally pushed to his feet, smoothing his hands down the front of his suit. His pulse stayed elevated, the bruise burning in his mind like a brand.

He didn’t know the details. He didn’t know the story. He didn’t know her well enough to do anything about it.

But he knew one thing: He wasn’t done noticing. And he wasn’t going to pretend he didn’t see what he saw.

Not now. Not ever.

* * * * * * * * * *

Vivienne’s POV

Vivienne barely made it to the bathroom before her legs gave out, and she shoved the door closed behind her, the click of the lock echoing like a small but solid barrier between her and the world. Her back hit the cold wall of the stall, and she slid down until she was sitting on the tile floor, knees pulled up to her chest.

Her hands shook as she buried her face in them, trying to steady her breathing, trying to tell herself it was nothing. 

He didn’t see it. 

He didn’t really see it. 

But the memory of his voice, calm and controlled. Just that single word, “Vivienne…” played over and over in her head. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t judgment. It was something else. Something terrifying because it carried weight without words.

Her pulse pounded so hard she could feel it in her temples. The world outside the stall carried on as if nothing had happened. Somewhere down the hall, a printer hummed. A faucet ran. Footsteps. Ordinary noises, but for her they were a reminder that people were still moving, still living their lives.

She tugged at the sleeve of her blouse, covering the bruise that came from last night’s argument. Covering it again didn’t erase the moment. The image of Jake’s eyes: green and sharp, was burned into her mind. 

He had seen the bruise. And maybe, in that brief second, he had understood too much.

Her breaths came in quick, shallow bursts now, and she had to press her palms to her thighs to stop her fingers from trembling so violently. I’m fine. I’m fine. He didn’t see anything. It was nothing. She tried to repeat it, over and over, but the words felt hollow against the fear, the shame, the raw panic tightening around her chest.

Her gaze flicked to the stall door. Maybe he would think it was just a momentary flinch. But she knew better. He hadn’t looked away. He had paused.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force herself to calm. Counting as she inhaled then exhaling for one…two…three…but the numbers blurred together. Her chest felt tight, as if her ribs were too small to hold her lungs. She pressed her forehead to her knees. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know.

When the trembling started to subside, just slightly, she leaned back against the wall, head spinning, eyes watering. One long, shuddering breath at a time, she reminded herself that the door locked her in. That no one else had seen. That she could pull herself together before stepping out into the world again.

* * * * * * * * * *

Jake’s POV

Jake couldn’t focus. Not really. He sat through the mid-afternoon finance briefing, nodding at the right times, asking the occasional pointed question, but his mind was elsewhere. Every spreadsheet, every projection, every line of numbers blurred together like static.

His thoughts kept drifting, unbidden, back to the moment in her office. Vivienne. The bruise. The way her sleeve had ridden up just enough for him to see. The instinctive flash of her fear, the way she’d recoiled, yanked the fabric down, and bolted.

He could still feel it. The subtle hitch in his chest, the almost imperceptible lurch that wasn’t anger, wasn’t shock, wasn’t pity. It was something quieter, something sharper, something he hadn’t expected to feel about anyone.

During the Q&A, his gaze flicked toward the floor where her department sat. Through the glass walls, he caught a glimpse of her moving with that practiced precision, collecting files, arranging them with care. Too careful, too meticulous. Something to hide.

How long has she been hiding this? He asked himself. His jaw tightened. Why didn’t I notice sooner?

Every instinct from his Navy training screamed him to act. To intervene. To protect. And yet he stayed seated, hands folded over his notes, posture neutral. That was control. That was discipline. He could not let himself lose it over a coworker, no matter how… troubling it was to see her like that.

And yet the questions kept spinning in his mind: Who did that to her? He gritted his teeth. Not his fight. But the anger, slow burning and quiet, was there.

Why do I care this much?

He shook his head slightly, trying to tamp down the intensity that prickled at his spine. He had seen plenty of things in his life—chaos, violence, human frailty—but nothing had struck him like this. Maybe it was her composure afterward, the way she didn’t call attention to herself, didn’t ask for help or pity. Or maybe it was the shock of realizing just how strong someone could be while still carrying bruises no one else noticed.

Meetings dragged on. He nodded at slides, listened to recommendations, asked a pointed question about a merger, but it was half hearted. Every time he glanced toward her office, something in him tightened. Protection. Curiosity. Guilt that he hadn’t noticed sooner.

By the time the day wound down, Jake felt restless, like coiled wire under his skin. The bruises were a problem he couldn’t walk away from.

And he knew, with a rare, quiet certainty, that he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about her. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not until he understood, and until she knew, somehow, that he saw.\

* * * * * * * * * *

Later that night, Vivienne moved through the office with quiet efficiency, her bag slung over one shoulder and her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. She kept her head down, focusing on the path to the lobby, avoiding eye contact with anyone. The weight of the day and the lingering memory of Jake seeing too much, pressed against her shoulders.

Jake lingered longer than usual in his office, finishing reviewing  a few reports, but he couldn’t ignore the subtle movement near the elevators. Her pace was steady, but there was stiffness in the line of her shoulders, in the way she held herself. Tension around her eyes, a silent echo of something he didn’t yet fully understand.

He didn’t call out. He didn’t break the distance. But he watched. His mind catalogued every detail. The careful movements, the controlled exhale as she stepped past the receptionist, the way she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear without looking up. Someone had hurt her. He didn’t know how, or how long it had been happening, but the sight stirred something sharp inside him. Protective. Focused. Relentless.

The lobby lights reflected off the marble floor, highlighting her figure as she moved toward the exit. He noted the subtle tremor in her fingers as she adjusted her sleeve again, and something tightened in his chest. He didn’t know why he felt so connected to her.

When she finally disappeared through the revolving doors, Jake exhaled softly, almost unconsciously. He remained where he was, eyes still trained on the empty lobby, imagining the bruise beneath her sleeve, the fear she’d tried to hide, the composure she’d fought to maintain.

He didn’t know how he was going to help her. He didn’t know if she would even let him. But what he did know is that someone had hurt Vivienne Chase. And Jake Seresin intended to find out who.

-

Tags:

Jake’s POV

Jake had just gotten back to his office from the meeting in the boardroom when the summons came. His father wants to see him. Now. Not unexpected. Not even mildly surprising. But the speed of it? Yeah. That was a new record.

The executive conference room was colder than usual. Not temperature wise. Just the atmosphere. The kind that seeped into the air vents and settled in your spine.

Rick Seresin stood at the head of the table, arms folded, posture rigid enough to crack. Grandfather Charlie sat beside him, calm as ever, fingers folded over his cane like he was already preparing to referee the two men.

Jake stepped inside with the same calm confidence he’d worn his entire Navy career. Shoulders loose. Chin lifted. Eyes steady. Control, even when the room wanted to take it from him.

“Close the door,” Rick said without looking up.

Jake did.

“Sit.”

Here we go. Jake thought to himself.

Rick finally looked at him, expression sharp and assessing, like Jake was a new intern he was already unimpressed with.

“Well,” Rick started, tossing a folder onto the table like it offended him. “That was quite a first impression you made.”

Jake didn’t react. Not externally. Internally…yeah, the familiar coil of tension tightened low in his chest. Already starting with this. Classic Rick Seresin move.

“What part are we talking about exactly?” Jake asked, tone deliberately neutral.

“Where would you like me to begin?” Rick snapped.

He flipped open the folder of notes he’d apparently taken during the meeting. Little things scribbled in red ink like his father was grading a term paper.

“First of all, you didn’t correct the finance projections when Leonard misstated them.”

“I was planning to address it in the follow-up report,” Jake said.

“Planning,” Rick repeated, like he’d tasted something sour. “A CEO doesn’t plan to correct mistakes. He does it in the moment.”

Jake leaned back a fraction, spine straight. “Leonard has been with the company for twenty-seven years. Calling him out in front of everyone would’ve undermined him.”

“That’s leadership.”

“No,” Jake said evenly. “That’s ego.”

Rick froze. Charlie cleared his throat softly. “Boys—”

But Rick wasn’t listening. He was already turning the page.

“And then,” Rick continued, “you lingered far too long with the Investor Relations rep. What’s her name…Veronica?”

Jake blinked once. Twice. That was on the list?

“Her name is Vivienne. And she was presenting key investor concerns,” Jake said. “I listened.”

Rick scoffed. “You were hanging on her every word.”

Jake’s jaw ticked. Just a little. Enough that Charlie’s gaze flicked toward him in warning. He replayed the moment in his head. Vivienne’s steady voice, the quiet confidence behind her nerves, the way she’d gathered herself before presenting something the board didn’t want to hear. He’d listened because she was good. Not because…

“You need to establish authority,” Rick continued, pulling Jake from his thoughts. “Not get distracted by the pretty ones.”

Jake’s stare sharpened. “I wasn’t distracted.”

“Of course you were. I’ve been running this company long enough to see it.”

Jake breathed in once, steady and deliberate, the kind of breath that usually kept him from saying things he shouldn’t.

But this time? He didn’t swallow it.

“Yeah,” Jake murmured, meeting his father’s eyes head-on. “You’d know all about getting distracted, wouldn’t you, Dad?”

The room went still. Rick’s face tightened, only slightly. But enough. Charlie’s eyebrows lifted a millimeter, the closest Jake had ever seen him come to breaking.

Jake didn’t smirk. Didn’t gloat in it. Nor did he flinch away from his father. He just held his gaze, like he’d made an objective observation, and nothing more.

“Vivienne brought up legitimate concerns from the investors,” Jake said calmly. “I wasn’t distracted. I was listening.”

“Let’s move on from the girl,” Charlie added gently, trying to smooth out the situation.

Rick glared at both of them, clearly feeling outnumbered. Jake seized the moment. 

“Actually,” he said, leaning forward, “I wanted to re-evaluate our risk assessment protocols—”

“No.” Rick didn’t even let him finish.

Jake blinked. “You haven’t heard the proposal.”

“I don’t need to. We’re not changing anything. The board approved our current framework.”

“And investors are scared,” Jake countered, measured and steady. “We got that feedback today. If we don’t address it, they’ll pull support.”

Rick barked a laugh. “Son, you don’t know investors. They always complain.”

“That doesn’t mean they’re wrong.”

Rick slammed his hand onto the table. Charlie flinched.

“That’s enough,” Rick snapped. “You don’t get to march in here with your principles and your discipline and think it applies. This is business. And in business, you play the game.”

Jake stared at him, pulse hammering inside him. He’d spent years learning how to hold a line. Turns out he’d need that skill more here than in combat.

Charlie finally spoke, voice soft but firm. “Rick, maybe we should hear what Jacob has to say.”

But Rick shook his head, dismissing Jake with a flick of his hand. “We’ll revisit this when you understand how things work.”

Jake rose slowly. Deliberately not backing down from his father.

“Understood,” he said. Neutral. Respectful. Controlled.

Charlie’s eyes met his. They were warm, slightly apologetic, yet proud. Rick didn’t look at him again.

Jake opened the door to leave, and just before it closed, he caught a glimpse of the truth he’d been dancing around since he came home:

He wanted to run this company.

But God, he did not want to run it like his father.

* * * * * *

Vivienne’s POV

The hallways outside her office was unusually quiet for just before lunch. Filled with the kind of lull where printers hummed and shoes clicked softly against tile. Vivienne balanced a stack of updated acquisition reports in one arm, her tablet tucked against her hip as she mentally rehearsed the Zoom call she was supposed to join in ten minutes.

She rounded the corner just as the conference room door swung open. 

Jake stepped out first. Gone was the easy composure he’d carried this morning in the boardroom. The suit he wore still fit him like it had been made for him. His expression was technically neutral. But Vivienne caught the crack beneath the surface instantly. The subtle flex of his jaw. The faint line between his brows that hadn’t been there earlier.

Charlie exited a beat after Jake. He looked calm and thoughtful, which was kind of the norm for him. She’d overheard several colleagues joke that Charlie Seresin was the most approachable millionaire you’d ever meet.

Rick followed last with an expression that could only be described as a thundercloud wearing a tailored suit.

Vivienne’s instinct told her to keep her eyes down and move past the three men. Make herself small. Invisible almost.

But something in Jake’s face made her look at him again, just for a second. Or maybe two. Not long. Just…long enough.

He wasn’t looking at her. He wasn’t looking at anyone. He stared down the hall like he needed some air. His shoulders rose with a slow inhale before he adjusted his posture, slipping the mask back into place so quickly most people wouldn’t have noticed it ever even slipped.

Vivienne stayed exactly where she was. The report hugged to her chest, pretending to scroll on her tablet to give herself an excuse to linger. She didn’t say his name. She didn’t step closer to him. She just watched him walk.

There was a power in his stride. Command. Confidence. All things the board clearly expected from him. But there was frustration tucked in there too. A tension that found its place between his shoulder blades. Something he clearly kept controlled, like he was trying to keep the edge of something sharper contained.

It was clear to her that whatever had just happened in that room? It had rattled him.

Then she noticed he was headed right for her, and she quickly tried to busy herself. She shifted her tablet from one hand to the other, and adjusted her grip on the stack of reports.

For a brief moment, she wasn’t looking up and he wasn’t looking ahead. They collided. Not hard, just enough that the papers in her arms wobbled. Before she could react, Jake’s hand shot out, gripping her forearm to steady her.

“Whoa–sorry,” he murmured, voice low and still carrying that aftertaste of irritation from the meeting. But also gentled slightly by the contact.

She froze. Not because he touched her. But because he’d done it instinctively. Almost protectively.

When she finally looked up, their eyes locked. For one suspended beat, the hallway felt quiet. No printers. No footsteps. Not low chatter. Just the faint scent of his cologne and the steady heat of his hand around her arm.

His expression flickered. Surprise at first. Then something else she couldn’t quite identify. It was something softer. Something he smothered quickly, before squaring his shoulders as he released her.

“You alright?” He asked, grounding himself back into professionalism, but the edge in his jaw was still there, betraying the storm he was carrying.

“Yes,” she managed, her voice embarrassingly small. “I’m…fine.”

He nodded once, a tight but sincere acknowledgement, and stepped past her. Not rude. Not dismissive. Just…preoccupied.

She watched him go. The measured pace. The tension barely contained in his shoulders. The hand he flexed once before relaxing it again. No one else would notice those tells. But she did.

She drew in a long breath, forcing her pulse to settle as she gathered her files back against her chest. She had absolutely no business feeling shaken by a small bump in the hallway. And absolutely no business watching the future CEO walk away.

* * * * * *

She finished her 10:30 Zoom call meeting which honestly could have easily been an email. Then she headed toward the break room to do the 11:00am coffee sweep on their floor. It was something she had started doing for a few people shortly after she started, and it kind of had grown from there. She wasn’t sure if people expected it, but she did it anyway. She kind of kept to herself, but this at least gave the illusion that she was sociable with the others in the office.

She started preparing the coffees from memory. All straight black for the guys in Finance. Two sugars or Janice in HR. Oat milk creamer for Eddie who worked next to her.

And now…one for the CEO. She wasn’t sure how he took his coffee or if he like coffee at all. She decided a couple sugar packets and a couple of the creamer cups was a safe bet to bring just in case.

She hesitated when she got to his new office door. She reminded herself this was just polite. Professional. Necessary even. She offered coffee to everyone on the floor, really it would look out of place if she didn’t offer some to the new CEO.

Still, her knuckles rapped lightly, almost too lightly, like she wasn’t fully committed.

“Come in,” his voice called from inside.

She pushed the door open. His head lifted from a stack of document in front of him. His expression was guarded, jaw still tight from whatever war he’d just been fighting in that conference room. He looked like a man braced for another problem to land in his lap.

“Thoght you might want this,” she said, gently setting it on the corner of his desk. “Some people…forget to eat or drink when their whole world gets rearranged.”

His brows rose slightly. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.” She tugged her sleeve down out of habit and maybe a touch of nerves. “It’s what we do on this floor. I usually make the rounds around eleven.

Jake stood slowly and reached for the cup. Their fingers brushed for a brief second. Heat darted up her arm like static. She swallowed it down immediately.

“Thank you, Vivienne.”

It was her name that did it. That broke her composure. The fact that he had remembered her name. She didn’t expect him to remember her at all from the meeting, to be quite frank. Her stomach dipped embarrassingly low, a slip she tried to smother with pure willpower.

“You’re welcome,” she murmured, stepping back before anything in her face betrayed her.

She turned, slipped out of his office, and closed the door behind her with careful precision.

One step down the hall. Then a second. Then a third. Only then did she let out a slow, unsteady breath.

What the hell was that?

She didn’t have time for this. She didn’t have room for this. Why was she feeling all these…things…for a man she’d just met. A man like him? A presence like his? He was a planet, and she was already in danger of shifting orbit.

* * * * * *

Jake’s POV

Jake watched the door click shut behind her. He lifted the coffee to his lips. That tiny moment when their fingers touched shouldn’t have hit him the way it did. But it had. Sharp as lightning. Quiet as a breath. He took a sip, and then exhaled.

Kindness always caught him off guard. Especially right now. His gaze drifted toward the door where she’d disappeared, then to the desk where she’d stood.

Then he remembered it. The way she tugged her sleeve down again, like she didn’t want anyone noticing something. She’d done it in the boardroom earlier too.

He felt the pull. He wasn’t proud of it. He sure as hell didn’t plan to feed into it. But he noticed her. More than he should.

Don’t go there, Jake. You’d just be proving your father right.

He took another sip of coffee as he glanced at the door one more time.

* * * * * *

The office had thinned out to that late evening hush that always happened the closer it got to five o’clock. It was the kind of hush where keyboards finally went silent, and everyone breathed like they’d just run a marathon. Vivienne was at her desk, sliding her laptop into her bag with the same careful efficiency she used for everything.

Jake caught her in his periphery. Something in him stalled for half a beat. She tugged her sleeve down again. Just like she’d done twice earlier.

“Vivienne,” he said quietly.

She paused, glancing up, guarded but polite. “Yes?”

“I just wanted to say I appreciated your work today.” His voice came out lower than he intended. “Great job on the presentation this morning too. What you do is important, I hope you know that.”

A flicker of something, surprise maybe, crossed her face.

“Just doing my job,” she murmured.

He almost smiled. She was so relentlessly composed it made something in his chest go tight.

She walked past him toward the elevators, shoulders straight, jaw set, moving like someone who didn’t want to take up more space than necessary. He watched her go, every detail standing out sharper than it should have.

The competence. The caution. The tension that threaded through her posture. The way her fingers brushed that sleeve again, like she didn’t even realize she was doing it.

Something wasn’t right. Jake felt that truth settle into him. And he needed to figure out what was going on with her…without crossing a line he had no business even approaching.

The elevator doors slid shut, taking her with them, and he exhaled.

He didn’t know why he noticed her. Only that he did. Vivienne Chase was efficient, composed…and full of secrets he couldn’t stop wondering about.

-

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The office smelled faintly of roasted coffee and polished wood, a calm that only existed before Dallas  fully woke. Vivienne sat at her desk, her laptop open, a neat stack of reports on one side, her coffee steaming in a delicate porcelain cup on the other. The office lights were soft, casting a glow across the minimalist workspace she had curated herself. Everything in its place. Nothing left to chance.

Her eyes scanned the numbers with practiced precision. Profit margins. Quarterly projections. Investor notes. She was familiar with it all. Something caught her attention, a subtle discrepancy in the latest drilling site report. Frowning, she ran a finger along the page double checking formulas and comparing columns. Nothing escaped her notice. Not mistakes. Not patterns. Not the small details everyone else overlooked.

A faint sigh slipped past her lips as she corrected the figures. She rolled up the sleeve of her blouse for comfort, adjusting a thin silver bracelet hidden beneath the cuff. A tiny nervous tick, harmless but revealing the part of her she usually kept tucked away. She glanced at the window, the morning light catching the edge of her desk, and let her shoulders relax just slightly.

Footsteps echoed in the hall outside. Other early birds started to trickle in. A few gave quiet greetings as they passed her small office. She’d give them a small smile and then return to her work. She was already deep in her rhythm, having been here since just after seven.

No one else in her department showed up that early. But she liked the stillness. The control she had over the fourteenth floor when it was just her. It was safe. Not too much noise or raised voices. No reason to be on edge. Just a quiet space for her to do her work.

Yet even in this peaceful quiet, there was a tension she didn’t fully let go of. The way she was careful that her sleeves didn’t rise up too much. The faint tremor in her fingers when the vending machine across the hall would make a sudden noise. 

By the time the clock on her monitor blinked 8:52, Vivienne had already proofed the drilling site forecast twice, flagged the discrepancy in the risk assessment, and sent three emails she suspected no one else would read until closer to lunch.

She capped her pen, smoothing her sleeve back down over her wrist as she pushed away from her desk. Her heels clicked softly against the polished floor as she made her way toward the break room. The scent of fresh coffee drifted down the hall from the break room, mixing with the murmurs from a few people huddled near the counter. She offered a polite smile, poured herself a small refill, and took a small sip.

Nine o’clock on Mondays meant the weekly leadership meeting. Board members, senior advisors, and anyone unlucky enough to have drawn the short straw for presenting updates to Rick Seresin. Today, that unfortunately included her.

Vivienne exhaled once, letting her shoulders settle into their professional posture. She could do this. She had prepared. She knew the information. She knew there would be a slideshow. She just needed to rattle off some numbers and then she could sit quietly and blend in for the rest of the meeting.

She took a deep breath, and crossed the hall toward the boardroom. She found a seat towards the back of the room, a spot she hoped would help her blend in. 

The boardroom had its usual hum. The shuffle of papers as a few people did a final review of what they’d be presenting or the agenda notes that had been sent out in an email Friday afternoon. There were a few whispered conversations drifting across the long table. She thought it might be in regards to a football game based on terms like “turnover” and “fumble” that she heard, but she couldn’t be sure with her almost nonexistent knowledge of any and all sports.

Vivienne was organizing the desktop of her laptop when the air shifted. The door opened. Three men walked in, but only one pulled every set of eyes.

Jake Seresin.

Dark blond hair, sun kissed in a way that didn’t quite make sense for Texas, cut neat but not too neat. Green eyes that scanned the room with an assessing calm. His suit was navy, and looked tailored and expensive. It was sharp enough to hint at “CEO” even if no one had officially said the words yet. He wore no tie. The top two buttons of his white shirt were undone, showing a relaxed confidence that contrasted the rigid posture of the man to his right.

His father, Rick Seresin.

And on the other side of Jake stood Charlie. He was older, softer around the edges with eyes that carried the kind of wisdom you didn’t question. As that very wisdom was what had built the company to what it was today.

A low murmur rippled across the room.

“They said it’d be weeks…”

“That’s his son, right? The pilot?”

“I heard he left the Navy.”

Vivienne didn’t look up at first. She kept her posture neutral and professional. But her heartbeat didn’t quite get the memo. Her fingers stilled over the keyboard of her laptop.

When she did look up, Jake’s gaze landed on her. It was steady but curious. Like he was quietly cataloguing the room and each person in it. Something sparked behind those green eyes. Recognition, maybe? Or interest. A flicker of something that made the edges of her nerves tremble.

He gave a subtle nod, polite but warm, before pulling his eyes away from hers. He looked to the men on either side of him. His father and grandfather. Three generations lined up, but only one of them commanded the space.

Rick’s stare was steel. Charlie’s was gentle. Jake’s was effortless but still confident.

Vivienne adjusted her sleeve, tugging subtly to make sure the cuff covered her bracelet. She exhaled slowly, quietly, forcing her shoulders to remain relaxed.

This was supposed to be another regular morning meeting.

But nothing about the way Jake Seresin walked into a room felt regular.

He took a moment at the head of the table, hands resting loosely on the back of his chair as he scanned the room. His father stood beside him like a shadow. His grandfather settled into the first seat near the front with a quiet smile.

“Good morning,” he said, voice even and confident. “For those I haven’t met yet, I’m Jacob Seresin. You can call me Jake.”

A ripple of attention moved across the table. A few exchanged glances, the surprise of so he really is the one stepping in lingering between them. 

“I’ve spent the last decade and a half in the Navy,” he continued, “and I just wrapped up my transition out of active duty. I’ll be stepping into the CEO role in the coming months, but I’m starting with today’s meeting to get a sense of where the company stands and the people who keep it running.”

There was a brief beat that seemed to be his way of making sure everyone was with him before he went on.

“I’m here to learn before I lead,” he added, tone steady. “So before we jump into numbers, I’d like to hear who’s in the room. Names, roles, what you handle day-to-day.” Then came a faint curve at the corner of his mouth. Not quite a smile, more like a reassurance. “I’ll do my part if you’ll do yours.”

Charlie looked at his grandson with a seeming sense of pride. He almost seemed delighted at Jake’s interest in meeting everyone. Rick meanwhile looked at his son with a quiet irritation as he took a seat across from Charlie. He was clearly displeased with the detour.

One by one, employees introduced themselves. Jake nodded along, asked a question or two, took mental notes like he was used to absorbing information fast and retaining all of it. He made his way around the table, and as each person introduced themselves, he met them with a handshake.

When he got to Vivienne, she cleared her throat lightly and willed her voice not to betray the flutter in her chest.

“Vivienne Chase,” she said. “Investor Relations Lead. I manage shareholder communications and help shape the financial narrative for our larger initiatives.”

Jake’s brows lifted just a little. “So you’re the one who keeps the people with the money from losing sleep.”

“Amondg other things,” she said, a hint of a smile tugging at her mouth.

Their hands lingered in that middle ground for a beat too long, just enough to make her pulse jump. Then she slid her hand back. In the same movement, she tugged her sleeve down where it had slightly risen up. 

Jake didn’t comment on it, but something in his expression sharpened. A flick of curiosity he covered almost instantly.

“Pleasure to meet you, Vivienne,” he said, voice smooth but just a shade more gentle now.

After finishing the introductions, Jake stepped back toward the head of the table. He took his place between his father and grandfather, the spot that all but announced future leadership.

The room settled. A few team leads gave quick updates on quarterly numbers, projected year end performance, and a couple of deals that were in the final stages of being completed. Jake listened with an ease that made the older men in the room glance his way more than once.

When the last speaker finished, he looked toward Vivienne.

“Vivienne,” he said, polite but expectant. “Investor feedback?”

She stood, tablet in hand, and the shift in her energy was immediate. She was composed, but tight around the edges.

She started talking quickly, almost mechanically: “Yes, of course. Well, over the last quarter, we’ve had consistent donor…I mean, investor sentiment trending mostly positive, though there are some concerns regarding—”

His father shifted impatiently beside him, clearing his throat. Vivienne’s voice sped up.

“—the projected acquisition timeline, and some shareholders have…have requested more detailed breakdowns on—”

“Vivienne.” Jake’s voice cut in, not sharp, not reprimanding. Just…steady.

She froze. The room stilled with her. Jake’s posture remained relaxed, one arm resting along the back of his chair, the other hand braced casually on the table. No authority display, no posturing. Just control by presence alone.

“Slow down,” he said, the word soft but deliberate. “I want to hear you.”

A few heads lifted in small surprise. There was a clear shift in atmosphere. His father blinked, clearly thrown off by the tone. His grandfather hid something that could almost be approval behind his tired  eyes.

Vivienne swallowed. She wasn’t used to being spoken to like that. Kindly. Usually the men on the board dismissed her, if they called on her at all.

She tried again. Slower this time. Clearer.

“Investors are overall confident,” she said, breathing more evenly, “but they’ve expressed concern about communication clarity on acquisition deliverables. They want reassurance that timelines won’t shift again.”

Jake nodded, listening fully now, giving her the space she hadn’t expected.

“That’s important,” he murmured. “Go on.”

And for the first time since she’d stepped into the boardroom, Vivienne felt…visible. Not scrutinized. Not dismissed. Seen.

She took a slow breath and continued, her words gaining steadiness as she laid out the investor feedback. A few notes of concern she’d received from investors, and questions they wanted answered. The room quieted around her as she spoke. There were no interruptions from Rick. No side whispers from other board members. Just the subtle scratch of pens and the occasional nod when appropriate.

Jake leaned back slightly, hands folded in front of him, eyes tracking her with an attentiveness that made her pulse hitch. When she finished, he gave the smallest nod, approving but understated, letting her feel the weight of it.

“Thank you, Vivienne,” he said softly, almost to himself, but loud enough that she caught it. 

The edges of her nerves eased, replaced with a rush of warmth. She gathered her notes the moment Jake dismisses the meeting, careful not to rush. Her hands were steady, but her pulse was thudding in her throat as she stacked the printed reports and slid her laptop into her bag. She refused to look toward the head of the table.

The room broke into murmurs behind her. Chairs scraping, people fishing for casual conversations with the new CEO. Someone asked Jake a question about next quarter projections, and he answered easily, his voice warm but confident.

She swallowed and started toward the door. Halfway there, something pulled her attention, something she felt before she gave in to it.

She glanced back. Jake was watching her. Not in the predatory or arrogant way some men in this industry look at women who walk away, but with a quiet and intent focus. Like he was replaying the meeting in his head. Like he’d picked up on things she hadn’t meant anyone to notice.

His arms were folded loosely, posture relaxed. An almost thoughtful crease sat between his brows, like she was a puzzle he didn’t expect to want to solve.