Avery didn’t expect the office to feel different on the eleventh morning, but it did.

It wasn’t louder or quieter, nor was anything physically changed on the fourteenth floor. Same rows of desks, same soft hum of printers, same colleagues who greeted her with polite smiles. Yet something in the air had shifted in a way she couldn’t exactly name. Maybe it was her own awareness—too sharp now, too awake to the pattern she had spent ten days trying not to see.

When she reached her desk, the lunch box was already waiting.

Right on time. Not early like yesterday before yesterday, not delayed like the accidental mistake that had messed with her heart for an entire hour. Today it simply sat there, neatly placed, the way it always seemed to be.

She set her bag down and exhaled more quietly than she meant to.

It should not matter this much.

But it did.

She brushed her fingers lightly across the edge of the container, a small habit she hadn’t realized she developed until now. Her pulse steadied. The absurd part—the part she never said out loud—was that the sight of it made her feel accounted for without anyone asking her anything.

A coworker passed by and nodded at the container. “Still getting the VIP treatment, Collins?”

Avery startled. “It’s not— I don’t think it’s—”

“Whatever it is,” the coworker said, shrugging, “it’s definitely not standard.”

And then they walked off without waiting for her reply, leaving her with a face warm enough to power the floor’s heating.

Avery turned to her monitor, pretending she hadn’t heard anything.

She kept pretending until Jenna stopped beside her chair later that morning, one hand resting on the back of her seat. “Collins, Reed’s team sent a message. They want the Q4 projections draft reviewed before noon.”

Avery blinked. “Me?”

“You.” Jenna gave a look that was half approval, half warning. “And they want it brought up. In person.”

Her heartbeat skipped. Of course they wanted it brought up. Of course it had to be her. This had been happening for days—first with summary reports, then meeting notes, then variance checks. Each time the reason was professional. Each time she tried not to notice that she was the only one being requested.

“Got it,” Avery said, keeping her voice even.

She worked quickly but carefully, checking formulas twice and confirming numbers that she would normally only check once. When she printed the packet, her hands were steady enough, though her stomach wasn’t.

On the elevator ride to the thirty-ninth floor, she told herself the same thing she told herself every time: He’s the CEO. It’s work. He’s fair. He’s just paying attention to productivity.

But she couldn’t forget how he had said her name yesterday. Quietly. Purposefully.

Avery.

It echoed in her head even now.

When the elevator doors opened, the shift in atmosphere was instant. The CEO floor was always colder, quieter, more deliberate in every detail. She walked past the glass meeting rooms, past the minimalist art pieces she still didn’t know how to interpret, until she reached the analysis room.

The door was already open.

Alexander stood at the large table, sleeves rolled up, posture straight. His expression was unreadable until he saw her, and then something subtle—something nearly invisible—softened around his eyes.

“Avery,” he said.

The way he said it made her breath catch. Not formal, not distant. As if the word fit easily in his mouth.

She stepped inside. “I brought the projections draft.”

He extended a hand for the packet. Their fingers didn’t touch, but it felt close enough that she nearly forgot to breathe again.

He flipped through the pages, eyes scanning with that focused intensity that never failed to unsettle her—in a way she didn’t fully understand.

“You adjusted the vendor outliers,” he said.

“Yes,” Avery answered. “They didn’t match the Q3 pattern, so I cross-checked with their historical variance.”

He nodded once. “Good.”

He moved to the next page. “And you flagged the travel discrepancies.”

“I thought they might indicate—”

“They do.” He looked up. “Reliable work. Again.”

The praise hit her harder than she expected. Reliable. Again. Coming from him, the words lodged somewhere deep in her chest.

Alexander set the packet down. “Walk me through your assumptions.”

She did—fumbling at first, then steadier as he listened without interrupting, following each line of reasoning with quiet attention. When she hesitated, he waited. When she spoke more quickly than she intended, he didn’t seem to mind.

By the time she finished, the tight coil in her chest had loosened.

He rested his palms on the table. “You’ve been consistent.”

Avery’s heart jumped. He had said that yesterday. And yet somehow it felt different today—closer, heavier, like the second confirmation of something she wasn’t sure she was allowed to believe.

“I’m trying,” she said softly.

“You’re doing more than that.”

She swallowed. The room suddenly felt too quiet.

He glanced at her lunch container—still in her hands from when she’d brought it up without thinking. “Did it arrive on time today?”

Her breath hitched. “Yes.”

“Good.” A pause. “It should.”

Her fingers tightened around the container. She wasn’t sure how to answer something like that. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to.

He cleared his throat lightly, shifting the subject. “There will be another meeting this afternoon. You don’t need to attend the full session, but I want you in the last twenty minutes.”

“Okay,” she said. “What should I prepare?”

“Just be there.” His voice was quieter. “I want your read on the discussion.”

Avery froze. Her read. As if her perspective mattered. As if he trusted it.

She nodded slowly. “I’ll be ready.”

He gave another small nod—barely there, but unmistakably approving.

When she turned to leave, he spoke again. “Avery.”

She stopped immediately. “Yes?”

Alexander’s expression didn’t shift much, yet something in his tone had changed—gentler, almost cautious.

“If you need anything before the meeting,” he said, “you can come to me.”

Her breath stilled. He had told her similar things before, but this time it sounded less like an instruction and more like an open door.

She forced her voice to steady. “Thank you. I will.”

Avery stepped out into the hallway with her pulse thrumming louder than her footsteps. She didn’t know what this was turning into. She only knew it wasn’t nothing.

Back on the fourteenth floor, Riley’s message popped up on her phone the moment she sat down.

—Well?? Did he LOOK at you again??

Avery typed back: Not like that.

A second later:

—Girl, you’re the worst liar I’ve ever met. And I serve customers who claim they ‘don’t know how the latte spilled itself.’

Avery covered her face with her hands.

She didn’t reply.

Not because Riley was wrong, but because Riley was too close to being right.

The afternoon meeting came faster than she expected. When she was called up again near the end, she took a deep breath before stepping into the conference room. There were more people today—department heads, senior managers, a few analysts she’d only seen in passing.

Alexander sat at the head of the table.

He didn’t look at her immediately. He didn’t need to. The moment she entered, something subtle shifted in his posture.

When she took the empty seat at the side, someone whispered quietly, “Is she with his team now?” Another murmured, “Why does he always have her review the reports?”

Avery’s ears burned. She kept her eyes on the table.

Alexander’s gaze finally lifted.

It found her effortlessly.

He didn’t smile. He almost never did. But the slight easing of his features made something in her settle.

“Collins,” he said, voice steady. “Your notes?”

She passed the short analysis she had prepared. Their hands didn’t touch, but the room felt suddenly smaller.

When the meeting concluded, Alexander dismissed the others first. People filed out, some glancing at Avery with curiosity she pretended not to notice.

He stayed seated.

She stood beside the table, waiting.

After the door closed, he leaned back slightly. “You catch things others don’t.”

Her pulse jumped. “I’m just trying to be thorough.”

“You are.” A beat. “But it’s more than that.”

She couldn’t move.

He didn’t look away. “Keep doing what you’re doing.”

The air between them felt charged—quiet, careful, but real.

Avery finally nodded. “I will.”

When she left the room, her steps were light but uncertain. She didn’t know what this was supposed to mean. She only knew she felt seen in a way she wasn’t used to.

And it terrified her.

But it also pulled her forward, one breath at a time, toward something she didn’t know how to name yet.

Something new. Something that had already taken shape before she realized it was happening.