Dinner that evening was set in the hotel's elegant restaurant, a mix of soft candlelight, polished wood, and clinking wine glasses.
The atmosphere oozed calm sophistication, but inside me, it was anything but calm.
Michael had changed into something more relaxed: a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up, the top button undone just enough to reveal that maddeningly casual confidence.
I wore a flowing burgundy wrap dress, minimal makeup, and a nervous heart.
"This place is beautiful," I said as we sat by the window, overlooking the city.
"It is," he agreed, but he wasn't looking at the view; he was looking at me.
I felt the warmth of his gaze and quickly picked up the menu.
We ordered dinner": grilled meat for me, steak for him, with a bottle of wine that he insisted would "relax my nerves."
Throughout the meal, the conversation flowed easily, surprisingly so.
We talked about, work, our favorite books, and our worst travel stories.
I found myself laughing, genuinely laughing, at one of his high school tales involving a collapsed debate podium and a very unfortunate sneeze.
"This is nice," I admitted as dessert arrived.
He tilted his head. "You sound surprised."
"I am." I looked at him seriously. "We've never talked like this before. You're always so… professional."
He chuckled. "And now?"
I hesitated. "Now you feel a little less like Mr. Michael… and a little more like someone I could enjoy being around."
His eyes held mine for a moment longer than necessary. "I like this version of us."
Us. The word lingered.
We finished dinner, each moment laced with a tension neither of us acknowledged out loud.
It wasn't awkward, but it was heavy. Charged.
Back in the room, night had fallen.
Michael quietly pulled the couch blanket over himself while I stood in front of the mirror, brushing out my hair, wearing a simple cotton nightdress.
The silence between us now felt louder. Almost deafening.
"You good over there?" I asked gently.
He shifted, fluffing the pillow behind his head.
"I'll survive. Couch isn't bad."
But I saw the way his legs didn't quite stretch fully, the way his neck awkwardly angled to one side.
This man, my boss, had been nothing but respectful.
And here he was, sleeping like a contorted puzzle piece to give me space.
I exhaled.
"Michael."
He turned slightly. "Yeah?"
"I changed my mind."
His brows lifted. "About what?"
"You're sleeping on the bed."
He started to object, but I held up a hand. "Not like that. I'll divide the bed. Pillows.
A great, tall, diplomatic wall. No touching, no funny business."
He smiled, sitting up. "You sure?"
"I'm sure," I nodded. "I'll feel worse if you wake up with a cramp and can't walk into the boardroom."
He stood and crossed over, pausing just at the edge of the bed. "I promise to respect the pillow wall."
I smirked. "Break the treaty, and I'll push you off."
We got into bed on opposite sides.
I built the pillow wall between us with the precision of a UN peacekeeper.
Once settled, I lay there, staring at the ceiling, hyper-aware of his presence just inches away.
"Goodnight, Ella," he said softly.
"Goodnight, Michael."
A beat of silence.
Then, almost sleepily, he added, "You snore, don't you?"
I laughed out loud. "Not. But I kick."
"Oh, great," he muttered, feigning terror.
The humor faded into a comfortable quiet. And in the darkness, with only the soft hum of city life outside the window, I couldn't help but wonder:
Was I just" being kind… or was part of me hoping the pillow wall didn't stay up all week?
Day One – Dressed in Confidence, Masked in Chaos
The morning light filtered through the hotel curtains, casting golden streaks across the carpet.
I'd barely slept, maybe it was the pillow wall, maybe, it was the heat that radiated off Michael's side of the bed, or maybe, it was just… him.
Still, I was up early.
Already showered, hair curled into soft waves, my blazer pressed to perfection.
My blouse was an elegant ivory, tucked into a navy pencil skirt that hugged my curves in just the right way".
If I was going to walk into this presentation as a woman torn between two men, at least I would look like a woman who had her entire life in order.
I emerged from the bathroom just as Michael finished tying his tie.
His crisp charcoal suit fit him like it was made for only him, and knowing him, it probably was.
His eyes swept over me, just a flicker, before he nodded. "You look… impressive."
"Thanks. So do you." I walked past him, grabbing my files. "Let's get this show on the road."
At the Conference Hall
The venue was buzzing. Executives, investors, and department heads mingled while sipping coffee.
The long U-shaped table gleamed under soft lighting, microphones set and ready.
Our pitch, an innovative digital product line, was up first".
Michael and I sat side by side, our materials neatly arranged, body language perfectly aligned.
If anyone had witnessed our late-night almost-kiss, they wouldn't guess it now.
We were polished. Coordinated. Lethally professional.
He leaned toward me slightly, whispering, "Nervous?"
"Not at all," I whispered back. "Are you?"
He gave a half-smile. "Only about how good you'll make me look."
My heart did a tiny flip. Don't start.
The Presentation
When our names were called, I rose with practiced grace.
Michael opened with the intro outlining our objectives, setting the tone.
Then, it was my turn.
I stepped forward.
Slide click.
Voice steady.
Eyes on the room.
I owned that floor.
Every data point, every strategy.
I spoke like someone who had dreamed of this moment for years, and in truth, I had.
Not just this pitch, but the idea of standing in a room and being heard, really heard.
I caught glances. Nods. Scribbled notes. Impressed murmurs.
And Michael", he watched me the whole time, no interruptions, no corrections. Just... admiration.
He looked proud. As though I wasn't just his colleague but someone he genuinely believed in.
When I wrapped up with a confident close, applause filled the room.
"Brilliant," someone whispered.
Michael stood beside me, a hand briefly placed on the small of my back, just a moment.
It was professional… but not really. I knew that touch now.
We returned to our seats, and I breathed again.
"You were phenomenal," he said low.
I smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "We make a good team."
His reply was quiet, almost unreadable. "Better than you know."
After the Meeting
Back at our hotel floor, as we walked down the hallway, silence lingered between us.
"I'm proud of you, Ella," Michael said finally.
"I didn't do it for pride."
"I know." He paused. "Still. Watching you today, it made me think…"
I turned to him, tired but curious. "Think what?"
"That maybe… this week might change everything."
I didn't ask him to explain. Because honestly, I wasn't sure I wanted him to.
Not yet.
A Toast, A Touch, A Tangle
The sun had barely slipped beneath the skyline when we returned to our hotel room.
The pitch had been a complete success, and it felt like the air around us hummed with quiet triumph.
Michael had ordered room service, a table by the window was set with two covered plates, a bottle of red wine breathing gently beside polished glasses.
I slipped off my heels with a sigh, flexing my sore toes.
"If I knew business wins came with wine and steak, I'd have tried harder a long time ago."
Michael chuckled as he loosened his tie. "You always try hard.
Today, you just got noticed for it."
We sat, toasting lightly, glasses clinking.
"To us," he said softly, eyes meeting mine.
"And to the woman who carried the room with nothing but her brilliance."
I raised a brow. "What about the man who quietly had my back the entire time?"
He smiled, lifting his glass again.
"To both of us, then."
We ate slowly, savoring the food but also the moment".
For the first time, it didn't feel like boss and employee, it felt like two people sharing a victory that meant more than just numbers and slides.
After Dinner
The wine softened the edges of the day, making laughter come easier and glances linger longer.
"You know," I said, standing by the window, arms crossed as I stared out at the glittering city below, "I never expected any of this.
This project. This trip. You."
He came to stand beside me, his voice low. "And now that you're here?"
I hesitated. "I'm not sure. It's a lot."
Michael nodded. "I get it. I didn't expect this either. But I'm glad it happened.
Even… even if it complicates things."
His hand brushed against mine.
Then, gently, he reached for my waist, pulling me to face him.
"Ella," he whispered, "let me in.
Just a little. I know you're carrying a lot… but I'm not here to add to it. I want to"
His words stopped when he leaned in, forehead resting against mine.
My heart raced.
My fingers curled around the fabric of his shirt. And for one suspended breath, I thought I might actually let go.
Then Buzz.
My phone, forgotten on the nightstand, buzzed loud in the quiet room.
I blinked, startled, and stepped back from Michael's embrace.
"Sorry," I said quickly, the moment cracked like thin glass.
I walked over and picked it up.
1 new message – Joe
I saw a picture of you online. You looked amazing today. I meant what I said, I miss you, Ella. We need to talk.
The words blurred before my eyes.
I turned slightly so Michael wouldn't see my face.
Behind me, he said nothing. But I could feel the shift.
Everything that had been blooming between us just seconds ago now hung suspended in uncertainty.
I cleared my throat, not turning around. "I… I need to get some air."
Michael didn't stop me.
Didn't follow.
He"simply said, softly, "Come back when you're ready."
I stepped out of the room barefoot, clutching my phone like it held the answer to a question I hadn't even asked yet.