I was updating Adrien’s digital calendar—carefully color-coding etings, site visits, and the terrifying chunk of ti simply labeled "Review"—when his office door opened.
"Miss Miller," he said, voice smooth and unreadable.
"Yes?"
"Inform all departnt heads to et in the conference room. Fifteen minutes."
"Right away. Any particular reason—?"
"I have an announcent."
That made pause.
Clara looked up from her laptop, obviously curious on what is going on.
I grabbed my tablet and moved quickly, sending a company-wide ssage with the appropriate subject line:
URGENT: Departnt Heads — Conference Room, thirteen Minutes.
I had to make it thirteen because Adrien sounded serious and he hates anyone coming late during a serious eting.
By the ti the fifteen minutes ticked down, the floor was buzzing with whispers.
We moved down the corridor—Clara a few steps ahead, walking like she owned the floor in her muted heels and minimalist suit. Her posture was perfect. Her back straight. Her perfu subtle and expensive.
Behind her, I walked beside Adrien.
He didn’t say much.
His hand brushed mine once. A soft, fleeting graze—like grounding wire. My fingers twitched.
Two steps later, it happened again.
I glanced at him.
His gaze didn’t move from the polished floor ahead, but the corner of his mouth ticked up, a minuscule movent that no one else would ever notice. It was a secret smile, ant only for . It said, Patience. It’s you and . My anxiety eased, replaced by a warm thrum of anticipation.
Clara reached the boardroom first and held the door like she was the hostess of so exclusive salon. I stepped in behind her, Adrien close behind .
Everyone was already gathered. Departnt heads, division leads... the mood in the room buzzed with quiet dread. No one knew why they were here.
He took his place at the head of the table. Clara stood quietly near the corner. I sat beside his empty chair, tablet in hand.
He didn’t sit.
He rested one hand on the back of my chair—just lightly, enough that no one else would notice but —and then looked at the room.
"I’ll keep this short," he said.
The room tensed like one collective muscle bracing for impact.
Then:
"Well done."
Silence.
I saw three people glance at each other in disbelief.
"You handled the Johnson Mall campaign and building with discipline and precision. I’m aware of the deadlines that were pushed and the sacrifices made to et them."
Heads slowly turned. Brows furrowed.
"Good job," he added.
Soone near the door actually dropped their pen.
Soone muttered. "Is this a prank?"
Lillian from Finance coughed. "Sir... did you just say well done?"
A few scattered laughs followed. Nervous. Unbelieving.
"Is this a sign of heatstroke?" Darren muttered. "Sir... are you... feeling alright? Do we need to call—"
Adrien cleared his throat.
The room went dead silent.
I had to glance away to keep from smiling.
He continued, now back in command mode. "Furthermore. There will be a gala to celebrate the successful completion and launch of the Johnsons’ retail expansion project."
A few gasps, one audible "Ohhh!" and soone in the back whispered, "I knew it. Fancy rich-people party incoming."
He continued, unbothered. "Everyone attending is expected to look their best. Formal. Professional. Glamorous, if that’s your thing."
A ripple of excitent swept the room.
"Details will be sent to your inboxes by end of day. Now, before you ask—" He paused, then added coolly, "You’ll be receiving a bonus before the event. As a gesture of appreciation."
Now that caused chaos.
"What?"
"Is he serious?"
"No way."
"I’m not dreaming, right?"
"Did he say bonus? Did he hit his head?"
"Should we check the temperature in here—"
"Enough," Adrien said smoothly, though the corner of his mouth almost twitched. Almost. "Use it well. I expect nothing less than excellence. You’ve earned this mont."
Silence fell again, only this ti, it was reverent.
A single clap echoed.
Then another.
And then everyone started clapping—hesitant at first, but it grew. The kind of stunned applause that said I never thought I’d live to see this mont.
Soone from HR whispered loudly, "Mr. Walton, you’re... you’re so generous!"
One man looked like he might actually tear up. "I’ve worked here eight years. You’ve never said well done or ’good job’ before."
Adrien didn’t smile. "Don’t make regret it."
Everyone laughed—but no one pushed their luck.
"eting adjourned," he said.
****
The chairs scraped back as everyone filtered out, so looking dazed, others excitedly checking their phones already.
I was gathering my tablet when I heard it—quiet, but firm.
"Miss Miller," Adrien said, voice low and unreadable. "My office. Now."
Heads turned like we were in a classroom and the teacher had just called on the quiet kid with secrets.
I didn’t react. Just nodded, calm and unreadable, and followed him out.
Once we were behind the heavy doors of his office, the atmosphere changed. Softened.
"You realize you just made half the boardroom spiral into a psychological crisis, right?"
He didn’t answer. Just crossed the room, sat in his chair, then leaned back slightly and patted his thigh like a king requesting his favorite girl.
"Co here," he said.
I blinked. "Excuse ?"
He arched a brow. "You heard ."
I raised an eyebrow. "You’re not about to drop a stack of reports on , are you?"
His smirk was lazy. Dangerous. "Not unless it cos with a side of you."
I rolled my eyes, but I walked over. Slowly. Because I liked teasing him just as much as I liked giving in.
He pulled gently into his lap, one arm wrapping around my waist like it belonged there. His other hand ca up to touch my neck—fingertips warm and practiced, kneading a spot that had been screaming since this morning.
I sighed without aning to. "Okay... not bad."
He humd low in his throat. "You’re stiff."
"Gee, wonder why. Maybe it’s because my boss is insane and just gave out a company-wide bonus like Oprah."
His fingers moved slower now. "They deserved it."
"Are you dying?"
He kissed the edge of my jaw. "I’m receiving soft love," he muttered, words against my skin. "Everyone should get a taste."
I laughed under my breath. "You’re getting soft."
"I’ll show you soft," he murmured into my neck, hands still at my waist, thumb grazing the dip just above my hip. His breath ward my skin, making shivers dance down my spine.
His mouth found mine, and the word "soft" dissolved on my tongue. It wasn’t a demanding kiss, not the kind of bruising, possessive claim he sotis made. This was different. It was slow and deliberate.
My hands, which had been resting on his shoulders, slid up into his hair. It was just as impeccably styled as the rest of him, but I knew where to press my fingers to make him groan.
He did, a low rumble against my lips, and his arm tightened, pulling impossibly closer until the buttons of my blouse pressed into the solid wall of his chest.
I could stay in this mont forever.
Click.
The door opened.
I tensed.
Adrien didn’t move. Not even a flicker of an eyelid. He stayed exactly where he was, his mouth still on mine, one hand still laced in my hair, the other a searing brand on my lower back.
My eyes flew open, wide and panicked, and I tried to pull back. His hold only tightened.
But then I heard her voice.
"Oh," she said. "I didn’t realize... you were busy."
Clara.
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