Ryan’s POV
I was in the middle of wrapping up a call when the door to my office swung open without warning. The mont I turned and saw Sophie standing there, my jaw clenched involuntarily.
"What are you doing here?" I asked coldly, not bothering to hide my irritation.
She ignored my tone completely, sauntering toward my desk with that practiced walk of hers.
The takeout bag in her hand made a soft thud as she set it down and began unpacking what I recognized as food from our old favorite spot.
"I brought lunch from Angelini’s," she cooed, her voice dripping with manufactured sweetness. "Rember how we used to go there every Friday?"
Her overwhelming perfu hit like a physical force - that sa cloying scent she’d worn since college. Before I could stop myself, I sneezed violently.
"See? You’re not taking care of yourself," she said, reaching across my desk. Her fingers intentionally grazed the back of my hand. "What would happen if you got sick? Who would take care of you?"
I stood imdiately, putting distance between us as I moved to the window. The touch of her fingers on my skin felt wrong, invasive. Once, I might have welcod it. Now it just made my skin crawl.
"What do you want, Sophie?" I asked bluntly, staring out at the city skyline rather than at her. I could see her reflection in the glass, the montary flash of frustration that crossed her face before she composed herself again.
She approached from behind, her hand grabbing the edge of my suit jacket with familiar presumption.
"Things have been so crazy lately," she said, her voice taking on that trembling quality I’d once believed was genuine emotion. "I know I’ve made mistakes. I’ve learned my lesson."
I remained silent, waiting for her to get to the real reason for her visit.
"I promise I’ll focus on work from now on, Ryan," she continued, stepping closer, invading my space.
"Actually, I was thinking I should study so of the company’s previous projects to improve my understanding. Could you authorize to access those files? Just the suburban developnt from ten years ago?"
So that was her angle. The suburban project - one of my father’s most controversial ventures before I took over the company. Why would she suddenly be interested in that?
"Focus on your own work," I said firmly, turning to face her with narrowed eyes. "That’s all you need to do."
Sophie opened her mouth to press further, but sothing in my expression must have warned her off.
For a split second, I saw uncertainty flash across her face - the realization that I wasn’t buying whatever she was selling.
"I should get back to the office," she mumbled, gathering her things with jerky movents. "I have a eting soon anyway."
After she left, I checked my watch and made a quick decision. The office could survive without for a couple of hours. I grabbed my keys and headed for the elevator.
Twenty minutes later, I pulled my Maybach smoothly into a parking spot outside Dreamland Studio. I couldn’t help but feel a small surge of pride seeing how well Serena’s business was doing - stylish, professional, and distinctly her.
As I stepped out of the car, I noticed several young won glancing my way, whispering to each other. I straightened my tie self-consciously.
"Is Serena in her office?" I asked one of them, keeping my voice gentle. No need to intimidate her staff.
The young woman stared at wide-eyed for several seconds before nodding enthusiastically. "Yes, yes she is!"
I thanked her with a smile and made my way down the hallway to Serena’s office. I knocked lightly before pushing the door open.
The sight of her took my breath away, just as it always did these days. She was bent over her desk, completely absorbed in her sketches, sunlight filtering through the blinds and catching in her hair. Golden flecks danced in her concentrated eyes as her pencil moved with confident strokes across the paper.
God, she was beautiful. Not in the manufactured way Sophie tried to be, but in that effortless, genuine way that had always drawn to her, even when I’d been too stubborn to admit it.
Serena glanced up, surprise registering on her face when she saw . "Ryan? What are you doing here?"
I cleared my throat, suddenly feeling like a nervous teenager. "Thought I’d see if you wanted lunch," I said, gesturing toward the clock on her wall. "It’s almost noon."
She returned her attention to her sketches without missing a beat. "I’m not quite finished with this. Maybe later."
"You might not be hungry," I said softly, my eyes dropping to the gentle swell of her stomach, "but our baby probably is."
Her hand moved instinctively to her belly, a gesture that never failed to make my heart race. After a mont’s consideration, she sighed and began gathering her papers.
"Fine," she conceded, standing up. "Let’s go."
I tried to hide my smile as I took her bag, but the simple victory of getting to spend ti with her made feel ridiculously triumphant.
We walked side by side toward the exit, not touching but close enough that I could catch the faint scent of her shampoo - citrus and sothing uniquely her, nothing like Sophie’s chemical cloud.
"Ooh, Serena!" One of her designers called out playfully as we passed. "Is this a lunch date?"
Before Serena could answer with what would undoubtedly be a firm denial, I smiled at the young woman.
"Just lunch," I said smoothly. "But if anyone wants sothing, tell Serena what you’d like, and we’ll bring it back for you."
The cheer from her team was imdiate and enthusiastic.
A little bribery never hurts—especially if it helps get into her office.
Wait—why is Serena looking at like that?
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