chapter 3
860 Words
Chapter 3 – Fire in Glass Towers
The rain had cleared by morning, leaving London draped in pale sunlight that bounced off the steel and glass towers of the city. Adrian Hale stood in his office on the 22nd floor, hands clasped behind his back, staring out at the skyline he’d helped design.
The world below was orderly from here. Cars crawled like ants. Buildings lined up like chess pieces. It was clean, rational, predictable — the way he liked it.
Until the door to his office clicked open.
He didn’t need to turn to know who it was. Only one person would enter without permission.
“Elena,” he said, voice clipped.
“Good morning to you too, Mr. Architect,” she sang back.
When he finally turned, there she was — an explosion of color against his monochrome world. She wore a red silk blouse tucked carelessly into black trousers, her hair wild as though she’d lost a battle with the wind. She was holding a takeaway bag and two coffees like she owned the place.
Adrian arched an eyebrow. “Security let you through?”
“Nope. I smiled at the receptionist. Works every time.” She dropped the bag on his spotless desk, ignoring his glare. “Breakfast. Croissants. You look like the type who skips it and survives on spreadsheets.”
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can’t just appear in my office.”
Her eyes glimmered mischievously. “Correction: I just did.”
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She perched herself right on the edge of his desk, dangerously close to his neatly stacked plans. He stiffened.
“Elena—”
“Relax.” She unwrapped a croissant, tearing off a piece and popping it into her mouth. “God, you really do live in a glass box up here. Doesn’t it ever get lonely?”
Adrian crossed the room to retrieve a blueprint she was leaning on. “I don’t have time for this.”
“You always have time,” she said lightly. “You just hide behind blueprints so no one notices.”
Her words made him pause. He hated that she saw through him so quickly.
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She held out the other coffee to him. “Here. Black, no sugar, just how your dark soul likes it.”
He took it reluctantly. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet,” she leaned closer, her perfume — faint vanilla with something smoky underneath — curling around him, “you didn’t throw me out.”
His jaw tightened. “I should.”
“But you won’t.” Her lips curved into a slow, knowing smile.
---
For a moment, silence stretched between them, charged. She sat there on his desk, red silk catching the light, paint still faintly staining her fingers as though chaos clung to her no matter how she dressed.
“You know what your problem is?” she asked suddenly.
“I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
“You’re terrified of desire.”
His gaze snapped to hers, sharp. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” She hopped off the desk and moved closer, steps light, playful. “You want control. Order. But there’s a part of you—” her hand brushed his tie, just a whisper of touch “—that’s dying to come undone.”
He caught her wrist gently but firmly. “Careful.”
Her eyes locked on his, fearless. “Or what? You’ll design a building to keep me out?”
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For the first time, he allowed himself a smirk. “Don’t tempt me.”
“Temptation,” she whispered, leaning in so close he could feel her breath, “is the only reason you even answered my text.”
The truth in her words unsettled him. He should have pulled back. But instead, his fingers loosened around her wrist, not pushing her away.
“Elena,” he said, voice low, warning but strained.
She tilted her head. “Say my name like that again.”
He inhaled slowly, grounding himself. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re addicted,” she shot back.
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Before he could reply, Lucas barged in, carrying a stack of files.
“Adrian, I need—” He froze, eyes widening at the sight of Elena leaning against Adrian’s desk, the air between them still crackling.
“Am I interrupting?” Lucas grinned, far too amused.
Adrian’s voice went cold instantly. “Yes. Get out.”
Lucas smirked. “Right. I’ll… come back later.”
When the door closed again, Elena burst into laughter, the tension cracking like thunder.
“You’re fun when you’re caught off guard,” she said, eyes sparkling.
Adrian straightened his tie, regaining composure. “Don’t make a habit of this.”
“Oh, I will.” She grabbed another croissant, walking backwards toward the door with a wicked smile. “See you soon, Mr. Hale.”
And just like that, she was gone — leaving him with the scent of vanilla smoke, crumbs on his pristine desk, and the unsettling realization that his glass walls had already begun to c***k.
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- Writer
