Hidden Sparks
795 Words
The office was quiet, sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, and casting sharp lights across the marble floors.
Ava moved with effortless precision, heels clicking against the polished surface, tablet in hand, mind already running through the afternoon schedule.
Her office door was ajar, the space immaculate as always. Sleek, efficient, commanding.
The walls were pale cream, softened by the sweep of floor-to-ceiling glass that framed the city skyline, offering a beautiful view of the city.
Her desk, a walnut polished mahogany— shined to perfection, held only her laptop, a crystal pen holder, and a single framed photo of herself and Xander.
On the wall, a painting of a soft gold and muted gray mural brought warmth without clutter, its strokes elegant rather than loud.
A coffee table of marble and glass sat by the corner of the office, with two curved armchairs upholstered in ivory fabric, inviting, but positioned at just enough distance for visitors.
She had carved this place out as her domain, a kingdom where she ruled every detail with unyielding authority. And yet, even here, she couldn’t shake the memory of him.
He appeared without warning, standing just outside her doorway, leaning casually against the frame.
“Busy?” he asked, voice smooth, teasing, his green eyes dark with intent.
She felt heat rise in her cheeks
. “Always,” she replied with a flustered smile, forcing a calm tone, though her pulse betrayed her.
“What brings you to my floor?”
He stepped in, deliberately closing the distance between them.
“Oh, just checking on the progress of the new marketing proposal,” he said, though his gaze lingered on her longer than necessary.
“Seems like someone forgot to recognize who’s in charge here, Miss… Ava.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m very much aware of who’s in charge,” she said, straightening her blazer, trying to reclaim the authority he seemed so eager to challenge.
He smirked, tilting his head, a subtle gleam of amusement in his eyes. “And yet, here I am… challenging your ideas, your plans… maybe even your patience.”
A shiver ran down her spine despite herself. His presence was a contradiction of feelings.
Thrilling, unnerving, impossible to ignore.
“I can handle challenges,” she said, voice steady but clipped, trying to mask the pulse racing beneath her skin.
“Can you?” he asked softly, stepping closer. “Because it’s not just about ideas or proposals, is it?”
She faltered slightly, a quick intake of breath betraying her inner conflict.
“He knows. Somehow, he knows.” She pondered.
“Are we still discussing the projects at hand, or am I missing something?”
“Are we?” Tristan responded with a smirk.
“I’ll advise you to keep your focus on the projects at hand, please,” she said, her professional mask snapping back into place, though the flutter in her stomach refused to settle.
He chuckled, a low, teasing sound that seemed to reverberate through the room.
“Of course. But the moment you step out of these walls…” He let the sentence hang in the air, unspoken.
He stared at her with those piercing green eyes, oh his eyes, they were slowly becoming her undoing.
She tried to push him from her thoughts, but every word, every glance, every subtle challenge he threw was a spark, igniting something she wasn’t ready to confront.
Her pulse quickened, heat rising, a longing she hadn’t allowed herself to name pressing at the edges of her control.
“You’re impossible,” she said, voice a little breathless, trying to hide the heat curling in her groin.
“And you love it,” he replied simply, as if reading her very thoughts. He turned to leave, pausing at the doorway. “We could be friends, you know.”
She watched him walk out the door, the click of his shoes echoing in the hall long after he disappeared.
Her hands shook slightly as she returned to her desk, mind racing. She was meant to be in control, the master of strategy, of power, of results…
Yet here he was, challenging her at every turn, without knowing what it’s doing to her. Making her crave something she couldn’t admit, even to herself.
Her gaze fell to the untouched proposal on her desk. Numbers, charts, deadlines. All meaningless in comparison to the storm he had stirred in her.
And for the first time in a long while, she realized that some battles weren’t fought with words or presentations…
Some battles are not meant to be won but savored, with the slow, intoxicating surrender of control.
And she wasn’t sure if she wanted to win this one.
- Writer
