It started with a knock on her office door.
Isabelle barely looked up, still lost in spreadsheets and email threads, assuming it was her assistant coming back with her lunch order. “Come in,” she called out, distracted.
But instead of takeout or a manila folder, Marcus stepped into the room holding a single white rose and a crooked, hopeful smile.
She blinked. “What are you doing here?”
He crossed to her desk and set the rose down gently beside her laptop. “Thought I’d h****k your afternoon.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You do know this is my busiest day, right?”
“I know,” he said, undeterred. “But I was hoping you could spare a weekend.”
That got her attention.
She sat back in her chair, eyes narrowing with cautious curiosity. “A weekend?”
Marcus leaned against the edge of her desk,
