Monday was all blunt edges and cold coffee. The kind of morning that made you wonder why you ever chose ambition over peace.
I arrived at the office before sunrise. The lights were still flickering on, the air smelled like toner and faint desperation. I wasn't trying to impress anyone — not anymore. I was trying to stay ahead of the avalanche.
Dante's door was already open.
Of course it was.
He didn't acknowledge me when I walked in, just slid a folder across the desk without looking up.
"Conference call in fifteen. Hong Kong."
"I know," I replied, setting my bag down. "Slides were emailed at six."
His fingers paused on the keyboard. Just a second. Barely enough to catch. But I caught it.
We went through the call like machines — efficient, mechanical, perfect. He didn't miss a single cue. Neither did I. That was our thing: high-functioning dysfunction. Two professionals pretending we didn't hate the way we affected each other.
---
Later, around noon, the air shifted. The elevator chimed and I looked up instinctively.
He stepped out like he wasn't expecting to be looked at.
Dark navy suit, the sleeves pushed up just enough to look casual — but not lazy. Curls slightly messy. Jet lag tucked beneath his eyes. Handsome in a too-real way, like he hadn't spent hours trying to look polished.
He spotted me immediately.
"I'm looking for Dante Ashford."
I raised a brow. "He's not here. I just sit in his throne when he's out."
A pause.
He blinked.
Then smiled. "Right. That makes sense. You're Amelia."
I tilted my head. "And you are?"
"Eli Moreno. Alvarez Capital."
I nodded slowly. "You're earlier than expected."
"I'm always early when Dante's involved. He doesn't wait well."
That earned a half-smile from me. "No, he doesn't."
He glanced around. "I imagined this place darker. Like, emotionally."
I laughed — once. Short and sharp. "That's just the man in the glass office."
He followed my gaze toward Dante's office. "Is he in?"
"As of five hours ago."
Eli hesitated, then looked back at me.
"You don't... look how I imagined."
I raised a brow. "And how did you imagine?"
He smiled. "Cold. Scary. Unapproachable."
"Is that your way of saying I'm approachable?"
"It's my way of saying you're different. In a good way."
I didn't reply. I didn't have to.
Because just then, Dante stepped out.
His presence shifted the room — like someone dropped a match in dry grass.
"Eli," he said, expression unreadable.
Eli straightened. "Ashford."
They shook hands. The air between them felt... brittle. Civil, but sharp around the edges.
"Come in."
Eli gave me a nod as he walked past. "Amelia. Nice to finally meet you."
And then he disappeared behind the glass door.
---
An hour passed. I typed. Filed. Pretended I wasn't wondering what they were discussing
The moment Eli left, he walked slower this time. Less rushed.
"Still here," he said, as if surprised.
"It's a Monday," I replied. "Where else would I be?"
He smiled. Not flirtatious. Not slick. Just... warm.
"If you're ever in Madrid, coffee's on me."
I didn't say yes.
But I didn't say no.
He left me with a polite nod and a look I couldn't quite categorize.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Ten minutes later, I brought the signed contracts to Dante's desk. I didn't ask permission. Just walked in and set them down.
"You approve of him?" he said, still facing his monitor.
I froze. "Eli?"
A shrug. "You seemed... comfortable."
"I've met him once."
"You laughed."
I met his eyes. "So?"
He stood. Walked around the desk slowly.
"Most people don't get that from you."
"That sounds like a you problem."
He stopped in front of me. Closer than polite. Just short of inappropriate.
"You're not his type."
I tilted my head. "Okay?" Hoping there was a point to this.
His eyes flicked down, then back to mine. "He dates noise. You're... quiet."
I gave a short, humorless laugh. "That supposed to be a compliment?"
"It's supposed to be a warning."
I raised a brow. "About him ?"
He didn't answer.
Typical.
Instead, he moved around me, brushing past with the kind of closeness that said I could, but I won't.
"Close the door behind you," he said.
I didn't move.
but he spoke , quieter this time.
"You laugh with him."
"You used to laugh with me," he added,
I paused in the doorway.
"Pardon?" I asked, turning slightly over my shoulder. Calm. Controlled. Daring him to repeat it.
But he didn't.
He just stood there—still, unreadable, like the thought had escaped him before he could put it back in the box.
I waited. Let the silence hang.
He didn't fill it.
Of course he didn't.
So I smiled. Small. Ironic. The kind you give someone who just revealed too much.
" Ofcourse" I said quietly.
Then I walked out, slow and steady. I didn't slam the door.
But I didn't close it gently either.