She thinks she blends in. That she can hide when she flusters, or trembles, or turns pink.
But Ruby Quinn is the easiest person in this building for me to read.
She wears everything on that beautiful face.
When she fled down the hallway earlier, breath quick, cheeks warm, eyes wide, she didn’t look scared of me.
She looked scared of herself.
Of wanting something she shouldn’t want.
I follow at a respectful distance, watching her duck into that alcove. It’s not lost on me that she hides there to collect herself.
I wait.
Not long.
She emerges with her shoulders squared but her eyes still soft.
And when she sees me?
Her breath catches.
Her gaze flickers down my tie. Then back to my eyes.
She walks away quickly. Too quickly.
She’s running.
I let her.
For now.
But I’m done pretending this is a mild interest. I’m done letting her think she can distance herself.
I return to my office and close the door behind me.
The glass windows give me a perfect view of the skyline, but my mind is on her.
She’s overwhelmed. So the next move needs to be deliberate. Controlled. A step forward, not a leap.
A conference room creates distance.
My office? Intimacy.
I draft the calendar invite:
Project Development Session — 11:00 AM
Location: Executive Office 53A
Just us.
No ambiguity. No pretense.
I type a note beneath it:
We’ll work more efficiently here.
