The Next Morning
I barely slept. My alarm sounded like a siren from hell, and my reflection in the mirror looked like a woman who had lived three different lives overnight.
Still, I painted my face with the calmest expression I could muster, dabbed on some soft nude lipstick, slipped into my slate-grey blazer, and told myself: You're fine.
You can handle this.
But my trembling fingers said otherwise.
The elevator ride to my office floor felt unusually long.
My thoughts raced with what-ifs and maybes, and before I could finish rehearsing the words
"Good morning, sir," with enough fake cheer, the elevator dinged.
The doors slid open, and there he was.
Michael.
Standing directly in front of me in the hallway, dressed sharply as ever, navy blue suit, crisp white shirt, and a navy tie that made his eyes look darker, more intense.
His hand was in his pocket, but the moment he saw me, he froze too.
We stood there.
Staring.
I was rooted to the elevator floor.
My breath caught. My legs didn't respond. Neither of us spoke.
A slow, thick silence settled in the corridor.
It was the kind of moment that drew attention without meaning to.
Around us, the office buzzed, phones rang, keyboards clicked, but our stillness created a pause in the flow.
One by one, heads started to turn.
Staff walking by began to notice. Curious glances were exchanged.
I saw a whisper pass between two interns by the copy machine.
And still, Michael and I did nothing but look.
His eyes held something I couldn't name, soft, remorseful, and burning with the memory of what happened last night.
My fingers clenched around the handle of my bag.
I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but my voice failed me.
Heat flooded my cheeks, and my body was screaming Move, Ella, move!
Just then, Michael took a single step toward me, closing some of the distance.
"Ella," he began softly.
I blinked, and instinct kicked in.
I quickly stepped out of the elevator, brushing past him without a word, heading for my office like I had tunnel vision.
My heels clicked loudly on the marble floor, the only sound cutting through the stunned silence.
Behind me, I could feel him watching.
The staff?
Watching.
Whispers followed me like perfume. Eyes. Questions. Speculation.
I reached my office door, pushed it open, stepped inside, and exhaled a breath I hadn't even realized I was holding.
My heart thudded wildly.
I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, trying to calm the storm inside me.
This was going to be one long, complicated day.
Boardroom Pressure & Unspoken Questions
Time was ticking.
I clutched the files to my chest, heart pounding louder than my heels as I made my way toward the conference room.
Everything I'd prepared for, the pitch, the slides, the strategy,
it all suddenly felt like background noise compared to the emotional storm churning inside me.
Because I wasn't just walking into a high-stakes meeting.
I was walking beside Michael, the man who had kissed me last night.
The man who called me Ella, not Ms. or ma'am, but Ella, like something deeper had bloomed between us without permission.
I tried to keep a safe, professional distance, but even as we walked in tandem, our shoulders nearly brushing, I felt the heat of his presence.
Then, I saw him.
Joe.
Standing outside the boardroom, looking like a piece of my past and my maybe in one perfectly tailored package.
He hadn't texted. He hadn't called. But here he was.
Waiting.
Watching.
My breath caught in my throat.
He moved toward me, concern in his eyes. "Ella."
I blinked. "Joe?"
"I… I needed to see you," he said. "Just for a minute."
My grip on the files tightened. "Joe, this isn't a good time. I have a meeting. The board"
"I know," he said, voice softening.
"But I needed to say I'm sorry again. Properly. And maybe… we could talk after? I can wait."
"No," I said, more firmly than I intended. "Please.
I don't know how long this meeting will take, and I need to be focused. I'll make time for you later, okay?"
Joe looked at me, something flickering behind his eyes, hurt, hesitation, but he nodded.
"Alright. Later then."
I turned quickly, afraid that if I lingered, I'd crumble. When I rejoined Michael, he raised a brow.
"Was that your boyfriend?" he asked, his voice low but clear.
I opened my mouth.
Then shut it.
I didn't have an answer, not one I was sure of.
And before I could stumble through something vague, the boardroom doors opened.
Showtime.
The Presentation
The room was full, executives, investors, and department heads.
The air buzzed with corporate tension.
I took my place beside Michael, who remained composed and unreadable, his expression a cool shield of focus.
As I began to speak, I could feel his gaze flick toward me, not critical, not invasive, just… present.
Grounding. Like he was silently willing me to succeed.
"Good morning," I began, voice steadier than I felt. "Today, I'll be presenting our forward campaign strategy…"
Slide by slide, number by number, I laid it all out.
The room listened. Heads nodded. Even the usual skeptics stayed quiet.
Michael, sitting to my left, watched me closely. Not possessively.
Not like a man staking a claim.
But with pride, like he believed in me.
Like that kiss had happened, but didn't define everything.
When I wrapped up, there was a pause.
Then—applause.
Loud. Warm. Earnest.
"That was impressive," one of the board members said. "Well-thought and confidently delivered."
"Outstanding," another added.
I felt the heat rise to my cheeks, part embarrassment, part pride.
The rest of the meeting moved on with other agenda items, but my heart was still racing.
I made my notes. I nodded when spoken to. But the entire time, all I could think was:
I'm in the middle. Between two men. Between two different kinds of truths.
When it ended, I rose quickly, whispering a thank-you to Michael as I excused myself.
I needed to breathe.
Back at My Office
I closed my door and leaned against it, releasing the tension from my shoulders.
I had done it.
The meeting. The pitch. The walk through a fire of emotional confusion.
But now the aftermath lingered, Joe's sudden reappearance.
Michael's deepening interest. And me… caught somewhere between memory and possibility.
I slid into my chair, staring at the files still in my hands.
Later, I thought.
Later, I'll deal with what comes next.
The hum of my office AC did little to cool the heat that pulsed under my skin.
I had just begun to regroup from the whirlwind boardroom chaos when a soft knock tapped against my door.
It opened before I could speak.
Michael.
He stepped in slowly, quietly closing the door behind him.
There was something different in his eyes, something unsettled but certain, like a man who had wrestled with himself and finally made a decision.
"I'm sorry," he began, his voice low and thick.
"About last night. I didn't mean to, well, no… I did, but I should've handled it better."
I stood, unsure whether to move toward him or away.
He crossed the room in just a few long strides. Before I could speak, he gently took my hand, his fingers warm and steady against mine.
"Ella," he said, lifting me from my seat as if I weighed nothing, "let me make you mine.
Give me that chance to treat you well."
The words hung between us, charged and bold.
His closeness was dizzying, the scent of his cologne folding around me like a spell.
"I—Michael, this isn't…" I whispered, stepping back instinctively.
But my retreat ended at the wall.
He stepped forward, closing the gap again. I was cornered, literally, and my body felt every inch of the tension crackling in the air.
He leaned in, voice almost trembling with restraint.
"I've kept this in for too long. Watching you. Working beside you. Pretending I don't want more."
His breath brushed against my ear. My knees weakened.
Then, he kissed me.
Not in a rush. Not in the frenzy of a moment.
But slowly, tenderly, like he had all the time in the world and wanted to savor every second.
His lips explored mine, gentle at first, then deeper, hungrier.
His hand pressed at the small of my back, drawing me close.
My body responded before my mind could catch up, melting into the moment, into him.
Minutes slipped by. It could've been five… or ten.
We were lost.
Until,
Buzz. Buzz.
My desk phone rang, sharp and sudden, dragging us both back to earth.
We pulled apart, lips tingling, breathing uneven.
"I should—" I began.
But he didn't let me finish. He reached into his blazer pocket and handed me a sealed envelope.
Then, without another word, he turned and walked out, leaving only his lingering cologne and the rapid beating of my heart behind.
Hands shaking slightly, I opened the envelope.
And froze.
A business trip itinerary.
Just him and me. One week. Out of town. Hotel accommodations. Meetings. Dinners. Flights already booked.
I stared at the details, my heart slamming in my chest.
Was this real?
Just me and Michael for an entire week?
I dropped into my chair, stunned. Thoughts collided in my mind: Joe, the kiss, the walls we crossed and couldn't uncross.
And now, a trip that promised proximity, long hours… and temptation I wasn't sure I could resist again.
Oh. My. Goodness.
What was I walking into?