OFFICE HOURS

CHAPTER FOUR: THE RETREAT

If there was one thing Lena Brooks hadn’t expected from corporate life, it was the company retreat.

She’d imagined boardrooms and client decks not winding mountain roads, a hotel perched above a forest, and coworkers dressed in casual weekend clothes.

But Hartwell & Co. believed in “team synergy,” and synergy apparently required three days of workshops, strategy sessions, and to her quiet horror group hikes.

By Friday morning, the team bus was humming with chatter and caffeine. Lena sat near the window, nursing a travel mug of coffee and watching the city fade into green. She tried to focus on her phone, but the sound of familiar laughter a few rows ahead distracted her.

Ethan Cole was there, of course relaxed in a navy sweater instead of his usual suit, head turned slightly as one of the senior partners spoke beside him. Even out of the office, he radiated composure. But every now and then, Lena caught the smallest glance from him in the reflection of the bus window quick, unreadable, gone before she could be sure she’d imagined it.

When they arrived, the resort was exactly the kind of understated luxury she’d expect from a company like Hartwell: all glass walls, cedar beams, and the faint scent of pine in the air.

The schedule for the day was pinned in the lobby:

9:00 A.M. — Welcome Session

10:00 A.M. — Strategic Breakouts

2:00 P.M. — Leadership Workshop

7:00 P.M. — Networking Dinner (Semi-Formal)

Lena sighed softly. So much for relaxation.

The morning passed in a blur of breakout groups and whiteboards. Lena found herself assigned to a strategy session and, inevitably, seated beside Ethan.

He’d switched effortlessly into his professional mode, calm and observant, guiding discussion without dominating it. Lena admired that about him. He made people want to listen.

Halfway through, as one of the directors debated over analytics projections, Ethan leaned slightly toward her and whispered, “You’re quiet today.”

She kept her eyes on her notes. “Just observing.”

“Observing or avoiding?”

Her lips curved despite herself. “Is there a difference?”

He smiled faintly. “Not to me.”

It was the smallest exchange low-voiced, gone in seconds but her heart thrummed faster.

By evening, Lena was exhausted.

The “networking dinner” turned out to be more like a gala white tablecloths, string lights, wine that was far too expensive to actually taste. She’d chosen a simple navy dress, nothing flashy, but as she entered the hall, she immediately felt underdressed beside the executives’ partners in designer gowns.

She found her seat near the edge of the long table and sank into quiet relief when she realized Ethan wasn’t there yet.

Until, of course, he was.

He appeared a few minutes later, jacket neatly fitted, tie undone just enough to look effortlessly composed. Conversation seemed to dip as he walked in people had a habit of straightening up when Ethan Cole entered a room.

When his gaze found hers, something in his expression shifted.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked, gesturing to the empty chair beside her.

She blinked. “Uh….no. Please.”

He sat down, his sleeve brushing hers for the briefest second. “I was hoping I’d get a break from small talk.”

“You don’t strike me as someone who minds small talk,” she teased.

“I mind bad small talk,” he replied. “You’re a safer bet.”

She laughed softly, stirring the water glass in front of her. “You really think I’m safer?”

“I said safer,” he corrected. “Not safe.”

Her cheeks warmed. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re deflecting.”

Lena turned to him, ready with a retort, but the look in his eyes stopped her steady, calm, and far too knowing.

Before she could speak, the CEO tapped his glass to make an announcement, breaking the moment.

As the night wore on, the noise swelled laughter, glasses clinking, the low thrum of conversation. Lena found herself relaxing in a way she hadn’t in weeks. She laughed at stories, joined in a few lighthearted games, even managed to forget that Ethan was sitting right beside her.

At least, until one of the marketing associates a confident woman named Harper leaned across the table and said, “So, Lena, rumor has it you’ve become Mr. Cole’s go-to lately.”

The air seemed to tighten.

Lena froze, smiling politely. “Rumor has it people like to exaggerate.”

Harper grinned. “Oh, I’m sure. But still pretty impressive. Most of us don’t even get a good-morning nod from the man.”

Lena felt her stomach twist. She could sense eyes on her, playful but curious, and she hated how exposed it made her feel.

Before she could respond, Ethan spoke his tone even, quiet, but with an edge of finality.

“Lena earned her place,” he said. “There’s no rumor worth repeating about that.”

A few people shifted, awkward. Harper raised her glass in mock surrender. “Of course, boss. Just conversation.”

Ethan gave a small, polite nod. “Then perhaps we can find a better one.”

The tension dissipated slowly, but Lena couldn’t bring herself to look at him.

When the dinner ended, most of the team drifted toward the lounge, but Lena slipped out to the terrace for air.

The night was cool, the mountains dark silhouettes against the deep blue sky. Below, faint lights from nearby cabins flickered like fallen stars. She leaned against the railing, closing her eyes.

“Running away from the crowd?”

She didn’t startle this time. Ethan’s voice was softer here, away from the noise.

“I needed a minute,” she said. “Didn’t mean to cause… that.”

“You didn’t,” he said. “They did.”

“I just don’t like being the topic of office gossip.”

He stood beside her, not too close, not too far. “Neither do I. But it happens.”

“To you?” she asked.

He smiled faintly. “You’d be surprised what people make up about anyone they can’t figure out.”

She looked at him then really looked. Away from fluorescent lights and glass walls, Ethan looked almost humanly tired. The kind of tiredness that comes from always being in control.

“I didn’t thank you,” she said quietly. “For defending me back there.”

“You didn’t need me to.”

“Maybe not,” she said, “but it helped.”

He turned to her, his expression unreadable in the moonlight. “You don’t owe anyone an apology for being good at your job, Lena. Least of all me.”

The way he said her name low, deliberate made something tighten in her chest.

“I wasn’t sure you noticed me at all that first week,” she admitted.

“I noticed,” he said simply. “You were the only one who stayed past midnight on your second day.”

She laughed softly. “I thought that was normal.”

“It’s not.” His voice softened. “But I liked that you thought it was.”

For a heartbeat, neither spoke. The silence wasn’t awkward it was full. Heavy.

Lena turned back toward the view. “Have you ever thought about leaving?”

“Sometimes,” he said. “Then I remember I wouldn’t know what to do if I did.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” she murmured.

He glanced at her. “Maybe it’s not.”

The air between them shifted quieter now, almost fragile. She could hear the distant laughter from the lounge, the soft hum of crickets, the faint rush of wind through pine.

When she looked up, he was watching her again that same look from the meeting room, the one that said he was seeing more than he should.

“You should get some sleep,” he said finally, his voice gentler than she’d ever heard it.

“So should you,” she replied.

“I will.” He hesitated, then added, “Eventually.”

She smiled, turning toward the door. “Goodnight, Ethan.”

“Goodnight, Lena.”

She walked away, her heart beating faster than it should.

And when she glanced back just once, over her shoulder he was still standing there under the string lights, hands in his pockets, watching the mountains.

The man everyone saw as unshakable looked, for once, completely still.

And in that stillness, Lena felt it the quiet beginning of something neither of them had planned for.