Author's Preface
[Annie]
The morning after our late-night stint in the archive room, the air on the ninth floor feels charged, almost brittle.
I’m at my desk by eight, nursing a lukewarm coffee and cross-referencing the final dataset before our departmental briefing.
Amanda rolls in twenty minutes later, setting down two morning pastries with a dramatically heavy sigh.
"I swear, if Operations flags one more rounding error, I’m going to lose my mind," she mutters, opening her laptop. "Did you re-index the appendix files for Project Orange?"
"Yeah, I pulled them from the shared drive last night," I reply, clicking through the folder.
"Wait... did you leave the regional tax adjustments under section 4B or 4C?"
Amanda blinks, pausing mid-bite. "4C. Why?"
"Operations strictly uses 4B for cross-border accounts," I say, a knot forming in my stomach. "We misaligned the entire third-quarter appendix."
Before either of us can fix it, the door to the corner office opens.
Kai steps out, holding a blue folder—the exact document we had just misclassified.
His sleeves are rolled up to his forearms, his posture straight, and his face a mask of absolute professionalism.
"Annie. Amanda," Kai says, his voice cutting cleanly through the floor. "My office. Now."
Amanda shoots me a terrified glance as we stand up and follow him inside.
Kai doesn't sit behind his desk.
He stands beside it, leaning back against the edge, tossing the blue file onto the center table with a dull thud.
"Section 4C," Kai begins, looking down at the file, then up at us. "The board presentation is in two hours, and the regional tax adjustments are categorized under the wrong ledger standard."
He is clearly trying to deliver a stern reprimand—the kind a senior project manager gives to subordinates who have made a sloppy error.
But as his eyes shift to mine, something in his voice stumbles.
The clinical edge he usually maintains softens for a fraction of a second, his jaw tightening as if he’s suddenly aware of how small the distance between us is in the enclosed room.
"It’s... it's a basic oversight," he continues, though his tone lacks any real heat.
He clears his throat, looking away toward the window.
"You both know the protocol. Amanda, go back to your desk and pull the raw data for 4B. Annie..." He stops, his gaze flicking back to me, tense. "...you stay."
Amanda nods quickly, practically darting out of the office and shutting the heavy glass door behind her.
The moment the door clicks, the room plunges into stillness.
I stand my ground, my shoulders rigid, a sudden flare of annoyance burning through my chest.
The error was minor and easily fixable, but the way he’s maintaining this rigid posture feels entirely performative—especially after the hours we shared in the archive room last night.
"Is there something else, Mr. Sterlings?" I ask, intentionally lacing my voice with flat, formal disrespect.
Kai looks at me, his eyes narrowing slightly at my tone.
"Sit," he says, pointing to the leather armchair directly across from his desk.
"I can fix the appendix at my desk in ten minutes," I say, crossing my arms.
"You'll fix it here," Kai replies, his voice dropping an octave, steady and unyielding.
"Consider it a lesson in attention to detail—and professional courtesy. Pull up your laptop."
My jaw tightens.
He is deliberately flexing his authority to penalize my attitude, forcing me into his space as punishment.
Pushed by a sudden wave of spite, I pull out the leather chair, open my laptop with a sharp click, and dive into the file without offering him another word.
If he wants absolute perfection, I will give him flawless work.
[ *** ]
For forty minutes, the only sound in the office is the rapid, aggressive clatter of my keys.
Kai sits at his desk directly across from me, reviewing documents.
But despite my focus on the spreadsheets, I can feel his gaze.
Every time I glance up to check a formula, I catch his eyes on me—not sharp or scolding, but heavy and intense.
The moment our eyes meet, he doesn't awkwardly look away; he simply holds my gaze for a beat longer than necessary before turning a page.
The space between us is thick with everything neither of us is willing to say.
A faint knock at the door breaks the stillness.
Administrative staff steps in, setting a tray on the corner of Kai's desk containing a steaming teapot, two cups, and a plate of fresh cookies, before stepping back out.
Without taking his eyes off his screen, Kai pushes a cup of tea and a plate toward my side of the desk.
"I don't need anything," I say coldly, my fingers still flying across the keyboard.
"Drink the tea, Annie," Kai says, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You've been staring at a screen without breathing for an hour."
Determined to end this forced interaction as quickly as possible, I grab the porcelain cup, lift it to my lips, and take a quick, defiant gulp—entirely forgetting it was freshly poured.
The scalding liquid hits my tongue, and I gasp, setting the cup down so hard the tea sloshes over the rim. "Ouch—"
Before I can process the pain, Kai is out of his chair.
The authoritative facade vanishes instantly.
He rounds the desk in three swift strides, pulling a bottle of chilled mineral water from his mini-fridge and pouring it into an empty glass.
"Are you completely incapable of taking your time?" he nags, his voice thick with genuine worry as he stands right beside my chair, handing me the glass. "It was literally steaming, Annie. Drink this. Slowly."
I take the glass, my fingers brushing against his warm hand as I take a cautious sip of the cold water, soothing the sting on my tongue.
I look up at him—his hair slightly messy, his brow furrowed in concern, standing just inches away from me with all his strict manager armor completely stripped away.
A small, breathless laugh escapes my lips before I can stop it.
Kai pauses, his eyebrows drawing together. "What's funny?"
"You," I say, leaning back in the chair and looking up at his face. "Do you have a split personality or something? Ten minutes ago you were pulling rank and punishing me for disrespect, and now you're hovering over me like a worried mother because I drank my tea too fast."
Kai stares at me for a second, catching the mock-annoyance in my eyes.
A slow curve appears at the corner of his lips.
He lets out a low laugh—a rare sound that completely dissolves the heavy tension that had filled the room all morning.
"Someone has to keep you from causing self-inflicted injuries in my office," he says, his tone softening into warm humor.
He doesn't step back immediately, lingering close for a moment before turning back toward his desk.
The artificial wall between us is gone, replaced by an easy rhythm as I pick up my pen and get back to work.
Ten minutes later, my phone buzzes on the desk. It’s a text from Amanda:
Did you survive the executioner? Honestly, when he started scolding us earlier, he sounded so unfocused. I don't think I've ever seen Kai Sterlings struggle to form a stern sentence in his life. What did you do to him?
I look at the message, then glance up over my laptop screen at Kai, who is typing away.
Just professional composure, I type back, setting the phone face down with a faint smile.
[ *** ]
By six in the evening, the ninth floor begins to clear out.
I wrap up my final reports, pack my bag, and step into the elevator, looking forward to a quiet evening alone in my apartment.
The moment the elevator doors slide open onto the main ground-floor lobby, my chest tightens.
Standing near the glass entrance doors, shifting uncomfortably in his tailored suit, is Oliver.
He catches my eye immediately and steps straight into my path before I can turn around.
Several of my colleagues from accounting and marketing walk past, casting curious glances at us as they head toward the street.
"Annie," Oliver says, his voice laced with an anxious, desperate edge. "You promised you'd unblock me after last night. I’ve been trying to call you all day."
A wave of embarrassment floods my cheeks as I feel the eyes of leaving coworkers on my back.
"Oliver, what are you doing here?" I whisper harshly, pulling my handbag closer to my chest. "This is my workplace."
"You aren't answering me, Annie. I just need ten minutes. Please."
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the outline of Kai stepping out of the executive elevator bank across the lobby, his coat folded over his arm.
The thought of Kai—or anyone else from my department witnessing another dramatic scene with Oliver makes my stomach drop.
"Fine," I say quickly, grabbing Oliver’s arm and pulling him sharply toward the glass doors before Kai can walk over. "Not here. There’s a cafe around the corner."
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