The office buzzed with its usual Monday static—keyboards clacking, coffee brewing, printers whirring—but for Ava, everything felt a shade too loud. Too exposed.
Julian's scarf still hung from the back of her chair like a question she hadn't answered.
She'd meant to return it. She had folded it neatly, planned to drop it off with reception at Lumeo Analytics with a cool, impersonal note. But somehow, it stayed.
Now, every time she turned around, the fabric teased her—soft, warm, his scent still clinging to it. Earthy and clean, with a hint of something deeper she hadn't dared name.
"You look like you're about to fight someone," Riley said, sliding into the chair across from her.
Ava blinked, snapped back. "Just thinking."
"Uh-huh. Is 'thinking' the name of that hot CEO you got drinks with last week?"
Ava glared. "Don't start."
Riley grinned. "Oh, I've already started. I saw the pictures from that bar on someone's Insta story. You two looked cozy."
"It wasn't a date."
"Sure. And I only go to hot yoga for the sweat."
Ava sighed, pushing her laptop away. "He's a client. A very involved client. That's all."
Riley tilted her head. "And yet… you're wearing his scarf."
Ava froze. "I am not—"
"You are. Trust me, I've seen enough romantic comedies to recognize a slow burn when I see one. This is 'Act Two: Emotional Denial.'"
"It's just work, Ri."
"Right. And I'm just naturally nosy." Riley leaned closer. "Can I ask you something?"
Ava sighed. "That's never stopped you before."
"Do you want it to be just work?"
Ava didn't answer. Because she didn't know.
Across the city, Julian stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows in his office, coffee in hand, phone in pocket, pretending not to be checking for a message that wasn't coming.
He hadn't texted her since their night at the bar. Hadn't called. Hadn't sent his assistant with a neutral note or an awkward follow-up. He told himself he was giving her space.
But the truth was, he was waiting. For a sign. For her to make a move. For anything.
"She's still on your mind," Max said, stepping into his office without knocking.
Julian didn't flinch. "You're not as subtle as you think you are."
"I don't try to be." Max tossed a folder on the desk. "Those are the preliminary numbers for the launch campaign. Early testing shows great promise."
Julian barely glanced at the folder. "Ava's team is good."
Max sat. "She's more than good. She's exceptional. And you're not just interested in her pitch."
Julian finally turned. "You're my best friend, not my therapist."
"Sometimes those are the same thing."
Julian ran a hand through his hair. "It's not simple."
"It never is."
"She's cautious. For good reason."
"You still want her?"
Julian hesitated. "Yeah. I do."
"Then stop waiting for the universe to make it easy. You and I both know—it never will."
That afternoon, Ava found herself staring at her screen, unable to focus. Her campaign deck was nearly done, the analytics team had delivered the last batch of metrics, and every loose end was nearly tied—except one.
Julian.
They'd been circling each other for weeks now. She hated the way he made her second-guess herself, how he knocked down the walls she'd spent years perfecting. But she couldn't ignore the flutter in her chest when he smiled. The way his voice softened when he said her name.
She picked up her phone.
Ava:Your scarf's still holding my chair hostage. Want it back?
He replied within seconds.
Julian:Only if you deliver it in person.
Ava:Tempting. But dangerous.
Julian:So is ambition. And caffeine. And I'm guessing you indulge in both.
She smiled despite herself.
Ava:Fine. Thursday. Your office. 11 a.m.
Julian:It's a date.
Ava:It's not.
Julian:Noted. See you Thursday.
Thursday came too quickly.
Ava wore a tailored navy blouse and black trousers—not flirty, but not entirely cold either. She told herself she didn't care what he thought, that it didn't matter—but she spent ten minutes choosing earrings.
Julian's office was sleek and minimalist, but not impersonal. Shelves of books lined one wall, a guitar leaned in the corner, and a Polaroid of his team was pinned above his desk with a paperclip.
"Miss Monroe," he said as she entered.
"Mr. Reed," she replied, holding up the scarf. "Your hostage, returned unharmed."
He took it from her, brushing her hand just slightly. "I missed it."
"I hope you mean the scarf."
His smile was maddening. "Mostly."
A beat of silence stretched between them. Then Ava cleared her throat. "I brought the updated pitch deck too."
"Perfect. Let's take a look."
They sat shoulder to shoulder, flipping through the slides. Julian was focused, asking smart questions, making notes. But the space between them crackled.
"Slide 12," he said, pointing. "That tagline—'Find Your Signal'—that's new."
"Your suggestion," she replied.
He looked at her. "You listened."
"Sometimes even CEOs have good ideas."
He chuckled. "That almost sounded like a compliment."
"Don't get used to it."
As they reviewed the final slide, their hands brushed on the mouse. Neither pulled away.
"I like working with you," Julian said softly.
Ava looked up, heart hammering. "Don't say that."
"Why not?"
"Because you know what that leads to."
He was quiet for a moment. "Do you always run from what you want?"
She stood abruptly. "I should go."
"Ava—"
"I'm not doing this," she said, backing toward the door. "I can't afford it."
Julian stood too. "Why not?"
"Because it's messy. And vulnerable. And I don't want to lose everything I've built just because I fell for someone who might not stay."
Silence stretched.
Then he said quietly, "I'm not asking you to fall."
Ava stared at him. "But you want me to."
He didn't deny it.
She turned. Left.
That night, Ava couldn't sleep. Her apartment felt too still, her mind too loud.
She walked the block twice. Got a hot tea she didn't want. Finally, she opened her laptop and stared at the campaign deck again. But instead of work, her thoughts circled Julian—his voice, his patience, the way he looked at her like she was the only person in the room.
She'd been safe for so long. Carefully contained. But maybe that wasn't living. Maybe that was just… surviving.
Her phone buzzed.
Julian:I'm sorry if I pushed. I meant what I said. But I'll follow your lead. Always.
She stared at the message for a long time.
Then she replied.
Ava:Meet me tomorrow. Somewhere neutral. No business talk.
Julian:Name it.
Ava:The Conservatory. Central Park. 3 p.m.
Julian:See you there.