Cracks In the Armor
612 Words
The office was unusually quiet the next morning, as if the building itself had sensed the unease simmering between Aiden Wolfe and Zara Morgan.
Zara arrived earlier than usual. Her heels echoed through the marble hallway as she walked with purpose, though inside, she was still shaken. After the charity gala, after that almost-kiss—everything felt different. Her usual armor of sarcasm and irritation wasn’t fitting quite right anymore. She didn’t know how to behave around him now, not when she could still feel the ghost of his touch on her lower back, or the way his breath had brushed her cheek like a warning—or a promise.
“Good morning, Miss Morgan,” the receptionist said as Zara passed.
“Morning,” she replied distractedly, clutching her tablet tighter than necessary.
When she stepped into the executive floor, she didn’t expect to see Aiden already in his office. But there he was—leaning against his desk, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened just enough to be dangerous. He was reading a file, but his eyes lifted the second she entered.
Their eyes locked.
The room didn’t shift. Time didn’t stop. But something between them bent—ever so slightly.
“You’re early,” he said, voice low.
“You’re always early,” she countered, stepping in.
A small smile tugged at his lips. “Touché.”
She moved toward the conference table, needing a surface between them. “I thought we could finalize the new campaign projections today.”
“I was thinking the same,” he said, walking over. He stood close—closer than necessary—and flipped through the papers she held out to him.
She could smell his cologne. It wasn’t fair how distracting that was.
“You didn’t say much after the gala,” he added casually, still studying the documents.
“I wasn’t sure there was anything to say,” she replied carefully.
He looked up. “You mean about the near-kiss… or the fact that we danced like we didn’t hate each other?”
Her breath caught. “Both, I guess.”
There it was—the c***k.
His expression was unreadable. “Maybe we don’t hate each other as much as we think.”
Zara swallowed hard. “Maybe. Or maybe we’re just tired of fighting.”
“That too.” He turned away then, moving back to his desk. But the space he left behind felt charged. “But I’m not tired of you, Zara.”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
He looked over his shoulder. “You heard me.”
For once, she had no comeback.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of meetings and silent moments that buzzed with unspoken words. Their colleagues didn’t notice anything unusual, but Zara could feel every glance, every shared breath, every brush of his hand when they both reached for the same folder.
Later that afternoon, while printing the final draft of their presentation, Zara’s phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number.
“Tell me I didn’t imagine that moment between us.”
No name. But she didn’t need one.
She looked up through the glass wall of her office. Aiden was sitting at his desk, focused, calm… except for the slight smirk playing on his lips.
Zara typed slowly.
“You didn’t. But I’m still figuring out what it means.”
His reply came instantly.
“I can wait. Just don’t pretend it didn’t happen.”
Zara leaned back in her chair, heart thudding. Everything was shifting. The cracks in their armor were widening—and something real was starting to break through.
- Writer
