TWO WOUNDED HEART

Professional Distance

Chapter 3:

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‎​The glass-walled corner office became a pressure cooker over the next three days.

‎​Outside, London churned through its usual damp, frantic routine, but inside the north suite, the atmosphere was frozen solid. Victoria had drawn an invisible boundary line down the middle of the large mahogany conference table. On her side sat structured color-coded binders, precise financial spreadsheets, and two empty cups of black espresso. On Bryan’s side sat a single sleek laptop, a heavily annotated copy of the expansion dossier, and a silent, overwhelming presence that filled every cubic inch of the room.

‎​They worked together with terrifying efficiency—and absolute, icy silence.

‎​When they had to speak, Victoria kept her vocabulary stripped of all emotion, reduced entirely to corporate shorthand and market metrics.

‎​"The Scandinavian logistics network needs a twelve percent margin adjustment," Victoria said, her eyes fixed firmly on her screen as the clock ticked past 2:00 PM on Thursday. She slid a printed report across the polished wood, taking care not to let her fingers touch his. "If we present David’s original figures to the board tomorrow, the risk compliance team will flag it immediately."

‎​Bryan took the paper, his dark eyes lingering on her face for a fraction of a second before turning to the numbers. "You're right about the logistics buffer, but cutting twelve percent directly from supply chain overhead will starve the regional marketing budget. Look here."

‎​He turned his laptop slightly so she could see the screen. Without thinking, Victoria leaned in to inspect the graph—and immediately regretted it.

‎​The scent of his cologne—cedarwood, faint rain, and crisp linen—hit her instantly. It was the exact same scent he had worn three years ago, a sensory trigger that brought a sudden flood of memories rushing back. Mornings in his sunlit apartment, lazy Sunday coffees, his quiet laugh near her ear.

‎​Victoria pulled back instantly, her posture snapping straight as if she had touched a hot stove.

‎​Bryan noticed. A flicker of genuine pain crossed his eyes, but he quickly masked it, clearing his throat and pulling the laptop back to his side of the boundary line.

‎​"We can reallocate four percent from the secondary digital campaign," Bryan suggested, his voice controlled and strictly professional. "That preserves the marketing push while satisfying risk compliance."

‎​"Fine," Victoria said clipped, typing the change into her master master file. "Make the edit on slide fourteen."

‎​It was exhausting. Maintaining this fortress of cold indifference required every ounce of energy she possessed. Every subtle movement Bryan made—the way he loosened his tie at 4:00 PM, the way he ran a hand through his dark hair when a data set didn't balance, the way he listened intently when she spoke—was a painful reminder of the man she used to trust completely.

‎​"Victoria," Bryan spoke softly, breaking the steady rhythm of their typing.

‎​"Yes, Mr. Walter?" she replied instantly, keeping her tone cool.

‎​Bryan leaned back in his leather chair, resting his hands on the table. "We have been sitting in this room for thirty hours straight. You don't have to keep calling me Mr. Walter when the doors are closed."

‎​"Professional distance ensures clarity," Victoria said, not looking up from her monitor. "It prevents mistakes."

‎​"Is that what you think I am now? A mistake to be managed?" Bryan’s voice carried a low, quiet weight that cut straight through her defensive shield.

‎​Victoria finally stopped typing. She turned her head slowly, meeting his dark, intense gaze. The unspoken history between them hung heavy in the air—the unhealed wound of his past betrayal burning beneath the surface of their quiet room.

‎​"You are my co-lead on a fifteen-million-pound contract, Bryan," she said, her voice dropping to a sharp whisper. "And tomorrow at 9:00 AM, we walk into the boardroom to pitch to the executive partners. I intend to deliver a flawless presentation. Personal matters are irrelevant."

‎​Bryan stared at her for a long moment, seeing the fierce, guarded wall she had built around her heart. He felt a sharp pang of remorse—knowing full well that he was the reason those walls existed in the first place.

‎​"Understood," Bryan said gently, bowing his head. "Slide fourteen is updated. I'll print the final briefing decks for tomorrow's board."

‎​"Thank you," Victoria murmured, returning her eyes to her screen.

‎​She stared at the numbers glowing on her monitor, but her heart was pounding hard against her chest. Staying distant was keeping her sane, but as she looked at Bryan quietly organizing the files for tomorrow, she knew one thing for certain: professional boundaries were easy to write on paper, but keeping her wounded heart protected around Bryan Walter was going to be the hardest fight of her life.

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