After pressing her badge against the security panel, Lorna entered Hudson Holdings' executive wing.
Here, the air was distinct—cool, accurate, and infused with the aroma of refined ambition. Every hallway reverberated with assured footsteps and corporate resolve, while glass walls framed views of the busy city.
She wasn't here to be admired, though.
She was here to enforce rules.
It had felt like taking a step back toward the edge of something she had only just started to leave behind when she accepted Michael's offer. However, the wellness program was important. No matter how difficult things were for her personally, she couldn't ignore the fact that it would offer mental health resources to thousands of workers.
However, nothing could have prepared her for the moment she saw him when the elevator doors opened.
Michael.
In a charcoal suit, he appeared perfectly composed. His face was unreadable, but when he saw her, his eyes—those eyes—flitted.
He said calmly, "Dr. Jenkins," moving aside to give her space.
"Mr. Hudson," she said back, just as composed.
Any onlooker might have been duped by their tiny, practiced politeness, but beneath the surface, every look was intense, every second was prolonged.
With no further words, they strolled down the corridor together.
That is, until he gestured her inside the new wellness project office and opened the door.
"Your space," he said.
She cleared her throat and said, "I'll need access to department heads. Weekly analytics. And zero interference from you." He smirked faintly and said, "That's fair. However, I do sit on the wellness committee." "I know. I'll manage." He folded his arms and leaned against the doorway. "I missed this part of you." She arched a brow. "The part that doesn't need you?" "The part that challenges me." A flicker of something dangerous passed between them—recognition, desire, regret."
She turned away and busied herself with her laptop bag, saying, "This will only work if we stay professional, Michael." "I'm trying," he said quietly, and she glanced back at him. "Try harder." By the end of the week, their professional dance had turned into a paradox, with them rarely being alone, keeping their distance in meetings, and exchanging emails with careful wording. Nevertheless, tension lingered in the air like static, unsaid but always present.
He got her a coffee she liked and made it just how she prefers it, without having to ask. Instead of providing criticism, she wrote post-it notes supporting his ideas about healthy living.
Naturally, only the two of them stayed behind on a Thursday evening.
Final reports were being put together by Lorna. Michael was reading through the different proposals.
There was no noise in the office. Everyone else was no longer in the cabin.
She happened to look up and see him watching her from the other side of the glass.
Their eyes met and locked.
He got up, walked toward her office without saying a word and then stopped. She got to her feet, her heart pounding.
Neither spoke.
The quiet was meaningful. The place was crowded.
Stuffed with possibilities that never materialized. What potentially exists in the future.
Finally, he said, "I keep finding myself thinking about that kiss."
She found it hard to breathe. "That doesn't help me at all."
"It's honest."
She took a deep breath. "Michelle..."
He took a step toward her. "Breaking boundaries is not the point here. It's about acknowledging our shared emotions.
Her walls shook.
She muttered, "I can't afford to fall into something that has no promise."
He gently cupped her jaw, allowing her to pull away without drawing her in.
"Then allow me to create one."
In her chest, her heart was a riot.
She didn't respond, though.
Not just yet.
Rather, she turned away and walked out of the office without saying anything more.
But like ash, the truth settled between them.
They had already started to fall.
Furthermore, denial could only last so long.