Emily couldn't stop smiling as she stepped into her apartment that night.
Her whole body was tired from the long day, but her heart felt surprisingly light. The deal had gone through, her tasks had been handled without a hitch, and Damian… had complimented her.
You handled everything flawlessly.
Those words had been echoing in her head since she'd walked out of his office. Not just because they were rare — but because of the way he'd said them. Quiet. Sincere. As if she was more than just an assistant. As if he saw her.
And now, it was the weekend. Saturday was her off day. For the first time in weeks, she had no schedule, no errands, no hospital runs.
Just rest.
She kicked off her heels, tugged her hair out of its clip, and sank into her couch with a sigh.
Then her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
Be at my place by 8 a.m. We need to complete the documentation and strategy review. If it runs long, you're welcome to stay the night. The driver will pick you up at 7:30. —D.W.
Emily sat up straight.
Her place?
His place?
Tomorrow?
Sleep over?
Her heart launched into a full sprint.
She read it again. And again.
It sounded professional… kind of. But the part about staying the night — no matter how casually worded — made her pulse skip.
Before she could stop herself, she texted Chloe.
Emily:He asked me to come to his place tomorrow. 8 a.m. Work stuff. But still. His place.
The typing bubbles appeared almost instantly.
Chloe: WHAT!!?.
Emily: He said we need to finish the work. And if it runs late, I can spend the night.
Chloe: He. Wants. You. There.
Emily: It's just work!
Chloe: Girl. No man invites a woman to his house "just for work" and adds "spend the night" like it's a footnote.
Emily: Stop.
Chloe: Too late. I'm coming over.
Twenty minutes later, Chloe barged through the door in pajama pants and a sweatshirt, popcorn in one hand, a soda in the other.
"I bring snacks, sarcasm, and scandalous theories."
Emily couldn't help but laugh. "You're insane."
"Correction: I'm your best friend, and I live for this."
They collapsed on the couch, popcorn between them, as Emily explained everything — the message, the phrasing, the butterflies in her stomach that wouldn't calm down.
"Okay," Chloe said, throwing a popcorn kernel at her, "real talk. This is not just about work. I mean, sure, he might need your help with something business-y, but come on, Emily. He wants you there. At his house. Alone. Overnight."
Emily groaned. "Maybe he just meant I could use the guest room if it runs late. It's probably the size of a hotel anyway."
Chloe gave her a long look. "You realize you're panicking over a man you claim not to like."
"I don't—"
"Uh-huh."
Emily sighed and hugged a pillow to her chest. "It's not that simple. He's my boss. He's intense. And private. And intimidating."
Chloe grinned. "And gorgeous. And protective. And absolutely into you."
"I'm not even sure how I feel," Emily whispered, staring down at the pillow. "He confuses me."
"Yeah," Chloe said gently, "because he makes you feel something."
They fell into silence, the movie playing in the background, the popcorn half-eaten between them.
But Emily wasn't watching the screen.
She was thinking about him.
About tomorrow.
And about the way her heart had started to beat differently ever since he'd first said her name like it meant something.