The next morning felt oddly bright, even through Arabella's half-closed curtains. She blinked awake, the memory of last night still fresh in her chest — that glance, the brush of his fingers, the teasing tone.
She'd tossed and turned thinking about it. It made no sense. Damon Kingsley was her boss, her CEO. Someone who rarely looked twice at anyone, and yet… it wasn't the first time she'd felt his eyes linger.
She tried to shake it off — maybe she was reading too much into things. Maybe it was just how he was.
Still, as she brewed her morning coffee and got ready, her fingers hesitated mid-button at the memory of his hand wrapping around hers, deliberate and slow. Her cheeks heated again.
No. You're overthinking. It meant nothing.
She forced her thoughts away as she reached the office.
The day moved briskly — emails, code reviews, a short team huddle — until lunch rolled around. Arabella escaped to the break room, hoping for a quiet coffee. She reached for the cabinet, spooning fresh ground beans into the machine like she always did. The aroma had just started to bloom when a voice sounded behind her.
"Making one for me too, Pearls?"
Her spine straightened before she turned. Damon leaned against the doorframe, a faint smirk playing on his lips, hands in his pockets.
"Mr. Kingsley," she said, startled.
"You make coffee this often, I got curious," he said easily, walking into the room. "I've heard people swear by the tech floor's coffee. Thought I'd see if it's just the beans… or something else."
Arabella glanced down at the two mugs. She hadn't meant to make him one. Still, she shifted and poured a second, handing it to him with careful fingers.
He took it, their fingers brushing slightly again — this time, on purpose. She felt it.
He took a sip.
Then another.
His brows lifted slightly, not in surprise, but something… close.
"It's good," he said simply. "Better than I expected."
Arabella stayed quiet, unsure if it was a compliment or just an observation.
He added, voice lower, "Maybe it's just because you made it."
She blinked. Looked at him. That teasing smile was still there, calm but calculated.
"I— It's just how I always make it," she muttered, eyes down.
He said nothing at first, just leaned slightly on the counter, mug cradled in one hand.
"I might ask again," he added casually, sipping again. "Seems like you're better at this than most baristas I know."
"Thank you," she said softly. "I guess…"
He watched her for a second longer, then pushed off the counter and nodded once.
"See you later, Pearls."
And then he was gone.
Arabella exhaled only after the door clicked shut, heart thudding a little too loudly.
What was he doing?
What did it mean?
She didn't know.
But she couldn't deny the way it made her feel.
Arabella tried to bury herself in work after that encounter. But no matter how many lines of code she reviewed or emails she drafted, her thoughts kept wandering. His words echoed in her ears.
"Maybe it's just because you made it."
He hadn't said it with any particular weight, hadn't leaned in with dramatic intent. But the words felt personal. Intimate.
She didn't know what unsettled her more — the teasing lilt in his voice, or the fact that she didn't hate it.
Her teammates returned to their desks after lunch, filling the space with the soft hum of conversation and keyboard clacks. Arabella remained focused, but her fingers hesitated more than once on the keys. Across the room, Lydia leaned closer with a sly smile.
"Thinking about someone?"
Arabella was startled and hastily replied,"No, no one"
"You seem lost in thoughts. Did something happen?" Lydia wiggled her brows playfully.
Arabella shook her head and tried to refocus. "Nothing. Just a long night."
Lydia let it go — for now.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of meetings and project briefings. Damon didn't appear again, but Arabella caught herself glancing toward the elevators more than once. Her mind replayed the subtle touches, the tone of his voice, how he'd leaned closer than necessary.
It was confusing — maddening even. There were no rules being broken technically, but it still felt like a line was blurring. A line she wasn't sure she wanted blurred.
By the time it was nearing the end of the workday, she felt drained. The sky outside had dimmed, painted in soft lilac and orange hues as the sun began its descent. Arabella shut her laptop gently and stood, stretching slightly. Lydia had already left for the day.
As she walked toward the exit, she paused in the hallway, half-expecting—half-dreading—that she might see him again. But there was only the soft click of distant doors and the hush of the quiet office.
The elevator doors opened with a gentle chime, and she stepped inside alone.
On her way home, Arabella let her head rest against the window of the cab, letting the cool glass steady her. Her thoughts spiraled again — not wildly, but in quiet loops. He wasn't just being friendly. He was deliberately… present. Watching. Engaging.
Was this just a game to him? Something casual and fleeting?
She didn't know. But she knew how she felt — conflicted, nervous, and maybe just a little thrilled.
At home, after a warm shower and slipping into a soft t-shirt, Arabella sat by her bedroom window with a cup of chamomile tea, staring out at the night.
What was this tension he built around her — quiet but impossible to ignore?
What did he want?
And more importantly, what did she want?
She didn't have the answers. Not yet.