From Dictator to lover

The Unplanned Gesture

Harper’s POV

The office was unusually quiet when I arrived, the faint hum of the air conditioning the only sound as I made my way to my desk. My heels echoed on the marble floor, the kind of noise that would normally make me cringe—but today, I was too exhausted to care.

I tossed my bag onto my chair, ready to dive into the mountain of work still waiting for me, when something unusual caught my eye.

A cup of coffee sat neatly in the center of my desk.

At first, I thought I’d forgotten it from the day before, but the cup was warm, the faint aroma of rich espresso filling the air. Next to it was a folded piece of paper with sharp, precise handwriting I recognized immediately.

Don’t make me regret giving you another chance. – N.M.

My heart stopped.

Nicholas Maxwell had left me coffee.

I stared at the note like it might catch fire, reading it again and again. The words weren’t warm or friendly—this wasn’t some grand gesture of kindness—but the fact that he’d done it at all left me utterly dumbfounded.

“What the hell?” I muttered, picking up the cup as if to confirm it was real. It was perfect, just the way I liked it.

The man drove me insane on a daily basis, constantly pushing me to my breaking point, and now this? It was so unlike him that I didn’t know whether to feel touched, confused, or even more annoyed.

Shaking my head, I set the cup down and muttered under my breath, “Probably just wants me to stay awake long enough to finish his stupid merger.”

But even as I rolled my eyes, I couldn’t stop the faint flutter in my chest.

Nicholas’s POV

From behind the glass wall of my office, I watched her. She walked in late again—by only a few minutes this time—but I said nothing. Instead, I kept my gaze fixed on her as she approached her desk and noticed the coffee.

She froze, staring at it like she couldn’t believe it was real.

Good. That was the point.

I didn’t know why I’d done it. It wasn’t like me to extend kindness to employees—especially not to someone as maddening as Harper. But something about the way she’d worked late last night, her face a mix of exhaustion and determination, had stuck with me.

She didn’t know it, but I’d stayed longer than I should have, watching from the shadows as she buried herself in her work. She was a disaster most of the time—disorganized, forgetful—but when she was focused, she was unstoppable.

And for some reason, I couldn’t look away.

Now, as she picked up the coffee, I could see the confusion on her face. She read the note, her brow furrowing in that way it always did when she was thinking too hard. I smirked.

She’d probably hate the gesture, twist it into something it wasn’t. But that was Harper—always quick to fight, always unwilling to accept the unexpected.

I turned back to my computer, pretending to type as she glanced toward my office. I felt her gaze on me, sharp and questioning, and resisted the urge to look up.

This was a mistake. I knew it even as I’d scribbled the note. Harper wasn’t someone I could afford to care about, not in any capacity. But for reasons I couldn’t explain, I found myself drawn to her chaos, her fire, her maddening unpredictability.

Maybe it was because she challenged me in ways no one else dared to. Or maybe it was because I couldn’t get her out of my head, no matter how much I tried.

“Get it together, Maxwell,” I muttered to myself, pushing the thoughts away.

I wasn’t soft. I wasn’t someone who handed out second chances or went out of his way for anyone. If Harper couldn’t keep up, I’d have no choice but to let her go.

But watching her now, the way her lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile as she sipped the coffee, I felt something unfamiliar.

I wasn’t sure if it was relief or regret.