Author's Preface
[Annie]
The hum of Kai's engine is the only sound cutting through the damp, seven-o'clock morning chill.
We live in the same building and pull out of the same underground garage, yet the air inside his car feels colder than the street outside.
I sit in the passenger seat, staring out the windshield as the city skyline slowly gives way to the open highway.
The regional conference center in Northeast City is barely an hour away, but with the tension radiating from the driver's side, it feels like a cross-country trip.
Kai keeps both hands on the wheel, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
He hasn't said a single word since loading my small carry-on into the trunk.
No polite check-in. No rundown of the schedule.
Just silence.
My phone lights up in my lap.
Oliver: " Good morning, Annie! Hope the drive goes smoothly. Let me know when you get back tonight—I'd love to take you out for dinner to make up for today."
I unlock the screen and quickly type a response.
Annie: " Good morning, Oliver. Thanks. I'll let you know once we wrap up the afternoon panels."
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Kai's gaze flick toward the screen before returning to the road.
"Is that the pastry guy?" he asks, his tone completely flat.
I lock my phone with a sharp click.
"Oliver has a name, Mr. Sterlings."
"Right. Oliver." His voice is dry. "Are you going to be texting him through the entire delegate session today?"
A sharp flare of annoyance hits my chest.
"He was checking in on my drive. And for the record, he's a good, hardworking, family-approved guy. You should mind your own business."
I catch his jaw shift, a faint muscle jumping along his cheekbone.
He doesn't raise his voice or argue.
He just grips the steering wheel a little tighter and presses down on the accelerator.
The rest of the drive passes in silence.
[ *** ]
Twenty minutes later, Kai pulls into a service station off the highway.
"I'm getting coffee. What do you want?"
"Nothing." I keep my eyes on my lap. "I'm fine."
He doesn't push, just steps out, shuts the door with a firm thud, and walks inside.
Five minutes later, the driver's door opens.
Kai slides back in with a black Americano in one hand and a tall iced drink topped with green-dusted foam in the other.
He sets it in the cup holder beside my hand.
I blink as the familiar scent of roasted green tea reaches me.
"I said I didn't want anything."
"It's iced matcha with oat milk," he says quietly, shifting the car back into drive. "You don't drink espresso when you're stressed. Drink it or leave it."
I stare at the cup, a strange warmth tightening in my chest.
He remembered my exact order—a detail I'd mentioned only in passing weeks ago during a late-night campaign crunch.
I pick it up and take a quiet sip.
[ *** ]
The Northeast City Convention Center is a maze of glass architecture and hundreds of high-profile professionals.
I'm used to regional events, but the sheer number of industry heavyweights in the main hall puts me a little on edge.
Without thinking, I step a little closer to Kai, relying on his steady presence to ground me.
Watching him here is eye-opening.
Kai doesn't just attend these events—he commands them.
High-ranking executives and elite delegates approach him with obvious respect.
Then, near the central fountain, an older man in a bespoke navy suit steps forward with a broad smile.
"Sterlings! Good to see you in person," he says, shaking Kai's hand. "I must say, the board was surprised when your assistant confirmed you'd be attending on-site. We all assumed you'd be joining the delegation remotely like usual."
I freeze.
Joining remotely?
Before I can process it, Kai smoothly steers the conversation elsewhere.
"The regional market metrics required a hands-on review this quarter, Mr. Nicholas. Speaking of which, how is the northern expansion faring?"
Within seconds, the comment disappears beneath the flow of corporate talk.
But I don't forget it.
[ *** ]
By 5 PM, the closing keynote finally wraps up.
The moment we step through the glass doors toward the parking structure, my curiosity gets the better of me.
"Why did that delegate say they expected you to attend remotely?" I ask, catching up to his long stride.
"Mr. Nicholas misremembered the council's memo," Kai says smoothly, unlocking the car. "Get in."
"He sounded pretty certain," I say, shutting my door and turning toward him.
"You forced me to cancel my Sunday plans with two days' notice for an 'emergency' conference. But you don't even attend these in person, do you?"
Kai keeps his eyes on the rearview mirror as he reverses out of the parking space.
"The department needed high-level representation."
"You've been hyper-critical and cold to me all week," I say, frustration finally spilling over. "Did you set up this entire trip just to mess with my schedule?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Annie." His voice remains flat, though his knuckles whiten around the steering wheel. "I don't organize regional business trips out of spite."
He doesn't say anything else, and neither do I.
[ *** ]
An hour into the drive back, red taillights stretch for miles ahead of us, bringing the highway to a complete standstill under a sudden downpour.
Rather than sit in the gridlock, Kai signals left and turns onto a tree-lined avenue, stopping outside a discreet establishment hidden behind dark velvet curtains and warm architectural lighting.
He unbuckles his seatbelt.
"Traffic is backed up for two hours because of the rain. We're stopping here until it clears."
I look at the sleek, minimalist facade.
"I'm not going in. I just want to go home."
"It's been a twelve-hour day, Annie. Step out."
He gets out without waiting for an argument.
I stay put for a solid two minutes, clutching my purse.
But as cool, rain-damp air drifts through the open door, I let out a breath and finally follow him inside.
[ *** ]
The interior is understated luxury—low amber lighting, rich walnut accents, and soft jazz humming through unseen speakers.
Kai leads me to a semi-private booth tucked into a quiet corner.
He undoes the top button of his shirt and rolls his sleeves up as a draft beer is set in front of him.
I slide into the booth opposite him.
"Don't get lightheaded, Mr. Sterlings. I'm not driving your car back."
Kai meets my gaze with a faintly amused look.
"I don't get lightheaded after one drink, Annie. I'm not like you."
"Like me?" My pride flares.
Before he can say anything else, I wave the server over.
"I'll take a large draft. Same as his."
When it arrives, I drink three-quarters of it in one go and set the glass down with a dull thud.
"Not lightheaded."
A faint smile touches the corner of Kai's mouth.
[ *** ]
Over the next forty-five minutes, the sharp edge between us begins to fade.
We order another round, and somehow the conversation becomes easy.
We laugh about the absurdly dramatic keynote speakers and trade dry remarks about the regional directors.
For the first time all week, I don't feel like I'm walking on eggshells around him.
By the time I reach the bottom of my second glass, a warm weight settles behind my eyes.
I reach for the pitcher, but Kai's hand closes around the base of my glass and pulls it out of reach.
"That's enough for you," he says quietly. "You're slurring."
"I'm fine." I rest my chin in my palm as a faint bass beat vibrates through the floor above us. "Is there a club upstairs?"
"It's a lounge," Kai says, signing the receipt. "And we're heading back."
"No, we're not," I say, sliding out of the booth and standing a little too quickly.
The room sways, and I grab the edge of the table to steady myself.
"We've been working all day. I want to dance."
Kai looks up at me, takes in my flushed face and stubborn expression, then lets out a quiet sigh as he reaches for his coat.
"Ten minutes. Then we leave."
[ *** ]
We walk up the low-lit staircase into a dim space washed in deep violet and warm crimson.
Heavy pop music pulses through the room.
I step straight onto the dance floor, letting the beat take over.
I toss my head back and sway, the alcohol washing away the last remnants of our office dynamic.
Kai stays near the edge of the floor, leaning against a dark wooden pillar with his hands in his pockets, his eyes following me through the crowd.
When two men move into my space, Kai reacts immediately.
His broad frame cuts through the crowd, stopping between us.
He doesn't say a word.
One sharp look is enough to send them backing off into the crowd.
I turn back toward him, smiling up at his tense expression as I place my hands against his chest.
"Relax, Mr. Sterlings. You look like a bodyguard."
"Someone has to keep an eye on you," he says softly.
He stays close, near enough that I can feel the warmth of his body.
The beat drops, thick and heavy beneath our feet.
The alcohol has stripped away my usual filters—the professionalism, the resentment over my ruined weekend, the caution I always keep around him.
I don't step back.
Instead, my hands slide up his chest to his shoulders.
I use them to pull myself a little closer as we move with the music.
Kai's breath catches as his eyes drop briefly to my hands before lifting to meet mine again.
He doesn't pull away.
His hands come out of his pockets and settle against my waist, steadying me as we move.
The heat of his palms burns through the thin fabric of my blouse.
Neither of us speaks.
The crowd around us blurs into flashing lights and pulsing music, but everything between us suddenly feels slower.
I look up at him and catch the exact moment his control starts to slip.
His gaze drops to my lips.
I rise slightly onto my toes, my fingers tightening around his collar.
Kai leans down slowly, his face drawing closer to mine.
The space between us narrows until there's barely anything left.
His breath is warm against my mouth, our lips hovering just short of touching.
For a moment, neither of us moves.
Kai's thumb brushes my flushed cheek, his touch lingering for a moment.
His eyes lift to mine, taking in my glassy gaze and the slight sway in my stance.
Then he freezes.
Before our lips can meet, he pulls back so abruptly that the loss of his warmth hits me almost immediately.
His hands move to my shoulders, and he gently guides me back a step.
I catch his jaw flex, and his expression hardens as he forces himself to pull away.
"You're drunk, Annie," he says, his voice low and tight. "We're going home."
The space between us suddenly feels cold.
I go still on the dance floor, my heart hammering as the fog in my head clears.
What am I doing? Did I just pull Kai Sterlings in for a kiss?
A flush of pure mortification climbs up my neck, wiping away whatever remained of the alcohol-induced confidence.
Before I can say anything, Kai gently takes my wrist and turns toward the exit.