Adam's Petroleum and Gas

Chapter Ten

Christiana’s POV

Present Day – Adams Petroleum and Gas

There’s something satisfying about organizing a space from scratch. Like taking control of the chaos in your head and transferring it onto polished surfaces. My new office smelled like fresh leather and ambition. Light streamed through the tall glass windows, catching the gold trim on the framed art and bouncing off the mahogany desk they’d assigned to me.

I’d only been here an hour, but everything was already where it needed to be. The folders were arranged by urgency, the pens aligned by color, and the orchid on the corner of my desk stood like a delicate threat...elegant, toxic, beautiful.

This was my battlefield now.

I smoothed the front of my ivory blouse and adjusted the tiny, golden-framed photo on the shelf, an old portrait of the Adams oil rigs, gleaming in black and white like a memory Bryan probably inherited rather than earned.

Everything in the office was spotless, curated, even my own presence. From the gloss of my nails to the precise cross of my legs behind the desk, I was exactly what I needed to be: professional and unforgettable.

I had just turned slightly in my chair to adjust a file folder when I heard his voice.

Bryan Adams.

“Morning, Ben. Why do I feel like I’ve walked into a sitcom already?”

His voice rolled down the corridor like warm velvet laced with exhaustion and a dash of dry wit. That voice had kissed me over a week ago. That voice had stammered an apology right after. And now, here it was, casual, unsuspecting, headed right into my web.

Ben’s voice followed, chipper and unapologetic. “Because you missed my stand-up set at reception. Desmond didn’t laugh either, but that’s just his face.”

“Good morning, sir,” Desmond added, his tone dry as ever. “You’re unusually late.”

Bryan chuckled. “I had a meeting downtown.”

Desmond didn’t miss a beat. “Uh huh. Honeymoon hangover looks good on you.”

Laughter erupted around the hallway. I could practically feel Bryan roll his eyes.

“Wait…” Bryan’s voice cut through the noise. “What’s going on in here?”

That shift in tone, the slight pause in his footsteps, the narrowing of his focus.

He’d seen me.

I remained facing the shelf, calm as a still lake, but I could feel the heat of his stare, the unraveling in his breath.

“Ben,” Bryan said again, slower this time. “Did you hire someone already and conveniently forget to mention it?”

Ben’s laughter was half guilt, half amusement. “I sent you an email. Friday. 4:17 PM. Subject line: ‘You owe me coffee.’”

“You know I don’t read anything after lunch on Fridays.”

“Maybe if you did,” Sandy called from the opposite desk with her usual bite, “you wouldn’t be so blindsided now.”

I observed how at ease they were with Bryan Adams. He was definitely not a demonic boss.

“She’s early,” Desmond added helpfully. “Your new PA. Said she likes to get ahead of schedule.”

I stayed seated at my desk now back straight, spine graceful, pretending not to hear the growing stir. I clicked open my laptop and let my fingers dance across the keys with practiced ease, shifting slightly to the side, just enough for the overhead light to catch the sheen of my hair. I tilted my head ever so slightly, revealing the curve of my cheekbone, the gloss on my lips, the sliver of skin at the nape of my neck.

I gave him a view.

His footsteps came slow at first, then more deliberate. I could hear the soles of his dress shoes meet the tile with that quiet authority only men like Bryan Adams carried without trying. He was walking toward me. One step, then two, then a pause. I imagined his eyes scanning every inch of the silhouette, the details, the impossible coincidence forming in his mind.

And I couldn’t wait to see the look on his face.

“Excuse me?” His voice was closer now, hesitant but firm.

I turned slowly, letting the moment stretch like warm taffy.

Our eyes met.

For a full second, he didn’t breathe.

“Christiana...” he said, like the name tasted unfamiliar.

He looked as sharp as ever. Dark gray suit, the jacket unbuttoned just enough to suggest confidence, not carelessness.

He was stunned.

“Good morning,” I said smoothly, as if we hadn’t met in a dimly lit bar, lips pressed together like sinners. He knew my name, I’m sure he couldn’t get his head off my name since he heard it from Bella during his wedding meet and greet.

His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out.

“I assume you’re Mr. Adams,” I added with a professional smile. “I’m Christiana. Your new assistant.”

Silence.

Ben, still standing behind him, cleared his throat. “You okay, boss? You look like you saw a ghost.”

Bryan blinked. “I... yeah. I mean... you’re the new PA?” He looked back at Ben. “Seriously?”

Ben nodded, amused. “Impressed, aren’t you? HR called her the best candidate they’ve had in years. Said she practically interviewed us.”

Bryan exhaled. “Right. Right, okay. Excuse me for a moment.” He turned abruptly and left the doorway.

I watched him retreat down the hall.

Interesting.

I sat at my desk and opened my planner, adding a tiny check mark next to “Phase Two.”

Ten minutes passed before I heard the door to his private office shut softly.

Then, outside the glass wall, I watched him pace like a man trying to untangle his thoughts with every step.

He pulled out his phone and dialed.

I couldn’t hear her end, but I knew it was her.

“Hey. Yeah, I just got to the office. No, everything’s fine. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Pause.

He laughed, but it was hollow. “No, I’m not. Just... Monday blues.”

Another pause. He ran his hand through his hair again.

“No, You know how these weeks start.”

He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. He didn’t sound like a man in love.

When the call ended, he stood there for a moment—frozen—before walking back into his office.

He didn’t look at me as he passed this time.

Good.

Let him stew in it.

I turned to my monitor and opened my inbox with a soft smile curling my lips. The kind that looked harmless to anyone watching.

I had just stuck it into the space between his comfort and control.