Chapter 14: Lines Crossed
1246 Words
The morning started like most — quiet elevator ride, coffee in hand, emails waiting like wolves. Vanessa stepped into the office building with her usual calm mask, heels clicking against polished tile, hair pulled back in that no-nonsense way that made her look more composed than she felt.
The receptionist gave her a subtle smirk. Sharon raised both brows when she passed.
Vanessa didn’t ask why.
She knew.
The flowers. The attention. The dinner.
And Adam.
But her thoughts weren’t on him.
They were on someone else.
On the man who sent a hundred and one roses without a single word.
She reached her desk and found everything exactly as she’d left it. Calm. Clean. Controlled.
Until the office door opened.
And Thomas walked out.
He looked… normal. But sharper than usual. Suit perfect. Hair perfect. Smile absent.
He stopped a few steps away.
Hands in pockets.
Eyes unreadable.
— So… how was your date?
The words landed like ice water.
She blinked.
Slowly turned toward him.
— I didn’t realize my personal life was part of the Monday morning report.
— It’s not, — he said smoothly. — Just curious.
— About Adam?
— About you.
There was a silence. Not heavy — sharp. Like the edge of a blade neither of them wanted to test first.
She took a slow sip of her coffee.
— It was nice.
His jaw tightened just slightly.
— Just nice?
— We didn’t elope, if that’s what you’re fishing for.
— I wasn’t fishing.
— You kind of were.
He shrugged.
— Maybe.
She tilted her head.
— Why?
— Because I like knowing things.
— About your staff?
— About people who matter.
The tension between them thickened. Not loud. Not messy. But tight — stretched between them like a live wire.
She stood.
Walked past him.
He turned to follow her movement, but she didn’t stop.
— You didn’t ask how many times he kissed me, — she said over her shoulder.
— I don’t want to know.
— You sure?
She disappeared into the kitchen.
He didn’t follow.
He couldn’t.
Not yet.
The coffee arrived mid-morning.
Vanessa was going over budget allocations, halfway through an email to the CFO, when someone tapped on her desk and set down a takeaway cup with her name scribbled in thick black marker.
She looked up, confused. The guy had already walked off.
She blinked. Looked at the lid.
And then she saw it.
A sticky note, folded and stuck to the cup’s side.
She peeled it off slowly.
It read:
"Since I couldn’t see you this morning — here’s a bribe. Call me if the caffeine hits too hard. — A"
Vanessa stared at the handwriting for longer than necessary.
It was casual. Sweet. Thoughtful. Everything that should’ve made her smile.
Instead, she felt a strange tug in her stomach. Not warm. Not light.
Just... uncomfortable.
She took a sip.
It was her favorite. How he knew that, she didn’t know.
She should’ve been touched.
But all she could think about was how this would look.
To other people.
To one person.
And sure enough—
The door to Thomas’s office opened.
He stepped out, holding a folder, his eyes scanning the floor, then snapping toward her like radar.
And they landed on the cup.
They didn’t move for several seconds.
He walked over, placed the folder on her desk without a word, and tapped the corner of it.
— Review this by noon. I want your opinion on section four.
— Of course, — she said, voice even.
He didn’t look at her face.
He looked at the cup.
And then he turned and walked away.
The air he left behind felt colder than it should have.
Vanessa sat very still.
Her heart beating way too fast for someone who was just doing their job.
—
Ten minutes later, her phone buzzed.
Internal call. Office line.
— Vanessa Carter, — she answered.
— My office. Now.
Click.
No name. No tone. Just the sharp bite of control.
She stood up, straightened her jacket, and walked in like she didn’t already know this wasn’t about section four.
—
Thomas didn’t look up when she entered.
He was seated behind his desk, one hand flat on the table, the other curled tightly around a pen that wasn’t moving.
She closed the door quietly.
Waited.
He didn’t speak.
She sat.
Crossed her legs.
Waited more.
Finally—
— You think it’s appropriate?
She raised an eyebrow.
— What?
— Gifts. Public displays. In my office.
— It was coffee.
— And a note.
— It’s not against policy.
— It is when it turns my company into a soap opera.
Her eyes narrowed.
— Is that what this is about? Your company image?
He looked at her sharply.
— It’s about control.
— Of me?
— Of what happens here.
She leaned forward, voice colder now.
— Then say it. Say you don’t want him around me. Say you’re jealous.
— I’m not—
— Then stop acting like it.
His jaw clenched.
Hard.
— You don’t get it, do you?
— Enlighten me.
He stood.
Walked around the desk slowly.
Stopped right in front of her.
— You walk in here with smiles and silk blouses and this constant need to pretend nothing matters. And then you make people fall for you without even trying. And then you sit here acting like I’m the one crossing lines.
Her breath caught.
— I didn’t ask for any of this.
— Neither did I, — he growled.
They were too close.
Too loud.
Too… them.
She stood too.
Looked up at him with fire.
— You don’t get to punish me for being liked.
— I’m not punishing you.
— You’re sending flowers. Watching. Judging. And now coffee makes you spiral?
— Because it wasn’t me, — he snapped.
Silence.
Thick. Suffocating.
She stared at him.
Everything in her expression slowly melting from anger into something far more dangerous.
— Then say it.
— Say what?
— That you wish it was.
He didn’t move.
Didn’t blink.
Didn’t breathe.
She waited.
Five seconds.
Ten.
Then—
— That’s what I thought.
She turned.
Walked to the door.
Hand on the handle.
He whispered.
— I wish it was.
She froze.
Back still to him.
Fingertips tightening around the metal.
— I wish I sent that coffee. That I saw your smile when it came. That you texted me after. Not him.
She didn’t turn.
But her voice broke just slightly.
— And what would you do with it if you had?
He stepped closer.
Not enough to touch.
But enough to feel.
— Ruin it. Probably.
— Then let someone else not ruin it.
— I can’t.
— Why?
His voice dropped.
Low.
Rough.
Honest.
— Because I want to be the one you smile at. And I don’t know how to stop.
The silence after that was so complete it felt like gravity had shifted.
She let go of the handle.
Turned slowly.
Met his eyes.
And for the first time — didn’t look away.
— Then show me something real. Not power. Not control. You.
He didn’t answer.
Didn’t move.
She waited.
One breath. Two.
Then walked out.
This time, without slamming the door.
And Thomas?
He didn’t sit for a long, long time.
He just stood there.
Hands shaking.
Wishing coffee had never been invented.
- Writer
