His Favorite Confession

The Ice Begins to Melt

The morning sun filtered through the floor-to-ceiling glass of Vance Enterprises, but inside, the atmosphere was as tense as a drawn bowstring.

Alora stood at her desk, double-checking the revised financial audit for the third time. Her eyes were slightly bloodshot from the late night, but her posture remained straight and defiant. She was determined not to let Hayden Vance see a single crack in her armor today.

Her heart gave a sudden, heavy thud as the private executive elevator chimed.

Hayden stepped out. He was dressed impeccably in a charcoal-grey tailored suit, looking utterly immaculate and completely unaffected by the long hours of the previous night. But as his gaze swept across the open office floor, it didn't just skim past Alora as it had yesterday.

His sharp grey-blue eyes locked onto hers—and stayed there for a beat too long.

There was something different in his look. The biting, arctic coldness was still present on the surface, but underneath it sat a deep, intense curiosity that made Alora’s skin prickle with sudden warmth.

Without a word, he turned and walked into his glass office.

Two minutes later, her desk phone rang.

"In my office, Miss Alora. Bring the supply chain breakdown."

Alora took a slow, steadying breath, picked up her leather folder, and walked toward the glass enclosure. When she pushed the door open, Hayden was standing by his desk, holding a freshly brewed cup of black coffee.

What caught her off guard was the second cup sitting on the corner of his desk—a hot, steaming cup of chamomile tea, a slice of lemon floating near the rim.

"Sit," Hayden commanded softly, nodding toward the leather armchair opposite his desk.

Alora hesitated before stepping forward, placing the folder down carefully. "I have the multi-national supply chain breakdown, Mr. Vance. The eight percent margin shift you requested has been fully integrated into the model."

Hayden didn't look at the papers. Instead, he reached over, picked up the cup of chamomile tea, and gently set it down directly in front of her.

"You looked like you needed something warm," he said, his deep voice carrying a strange, resonant vibration that made her stomach drop. "Drink."

Alora stared at the tea, bewildered. Chamomile? She hadn't said a word to anyone in the office about her favorite tea. The only person she’d mentioned it to was...

She forced the thought out of her head instantly. No, that’s impossible.

"Thank you, sir," she murmured cautiously, taking a tiny sip. "It's very thoughtful."

"Don't get used to it," Hayden replied smoothly, though the faint twitch at the corner of his lips betrayed him. He leaned back against his desk, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked down at her. "I spent the night reviewing your entire portfolio with the firm, Miss Alora. Your record is immaculate."

"I take my work very seriously, Mr. Vance," she said, her eyes meeting his with unwavering focus.

"I can tell," Hayden said quietly. His voice dropped an octave, softening into a rich, velvet tone that was terrifyingly familiar. "You put a lot of heart into everything you do. Even when you think no one is watching."

Alora froze, her cup stopping halfway to her lips.

The phrasing, the sudden drop in his tone, the low rasp at the end of his breath—it felt like a physical shockwave running down her spine. For a fraction of a second, the cold, powerful CEO standing in front of her blended seamlessly with the comforting, mysterious voice that guided her to sleep last night.

Midnight?

Her breath caught in her throat. She stared at him, searching his handsome, rigid features for any sign, any hint that her wild, impossible suspicion could be true.

Hayden didn't flinch under her intense gaze. He simply uncrossed his arms, leaned down slightly over the desk, and looked her straight in the eyes.

"Is something wrong, Miss Alora?" he asked softly, a dangerous, playful spark dancing deep within his dark eyes. "You look as though you've just seen a ghost."