Chapter 27

‎At Ryan’s place, the morning sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. Cleo was still fast asleep, her breath steady, her body completely still—evidence of just how much the previous night’s mission had taken out of her. She looked almost fragile now, curled up beside him with her head resting gently on his chest, her fingers loosely clutching the sheets.

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‎Ryan lay still for a moment, simply watching her. Her face, serene in sleep, carried traces of exhaustion, yet there was a quiet beauty in the way her features softened when she wasn’t guarding herself. He reached out almost instinctively, brushing a stray lock of hair from her cheek, his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary. A faint smile tugged at his lips.

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‎"You’re really an aphrodisiac," he murmured under his breath, voice laced with amusement and desire. The memory of last night surged in his mind, stirring something primal in him again. The temptation to wake her and lose himself in her once more was strong—but he hesitated. The dark circles beneath her eyes and the way her body seemed to melt into the mattress reminded him of how drained she truly was.

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‎With a sigh, he carefully disentangled himself from her, gently lifting her hand from his chest and placing it beside her. She didn’t stir.

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‎He padded quietly into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and let the hot water wash away the remnants of the night. Afterward, he dressed quickly, the movements routine, methodical. Shirt, slacks, watch. As he stepped out of the walk-in closet, ready to head out for work, a sound drew his attention—a sharp, persistent vibration. Cleo’s phone, abandoned on the couch, lit up and buzzed again.

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‎Not wanting the call to wake her, he walked over, intending only to silence it. But just as he reached for the device, his eyes caught the name flashing across the screen—and he froze.

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‎There it was.

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‎A name he didn’t recognize. One that instantly unsettled him.

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‎"Who the fuck is this?" he muttered under his breath, voice sharp with suspicion.

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‎Before he could press the answer button, the call ended. The screen went dark, leaving behind only questions.

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‎He looked back toward the bed. Cleo was still asleep, blissfully unaware. Her expression remained peaceful, undisturbed by the sudden tension now gripping the room.

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‎Ryan narrowed his eyes slightly, jaw tightening. He slipped the phone back onto the couch and picked up his keys.

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‎“I’ll ask her about it later,” he told himself.

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‎But even as he left the apartment, the name on the screen burned in his memory, raising doubts he hadn’t expected to feel.

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‎Claire frowned as she stared at her phone screen. For the third time, her call had gone unanswered. She let out a small sigh, her thumb hovering over the call button again before she finally dropped the phone onto the table beside her.

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‎"Why isn't she picking up?" Claire murmured to herself, a slight crease forming on her forehead.

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‎Her mind began to wander, tracing all the possible reasons her friend could be ignoring her call. Knowing her as well as she did, Claire couldn’t help but suspect something mischievous. A sly smile tugged at the corners of her lips as a familiar thought crossed her mind, was she off doing something naughty with that boss of hers she’s been gushing over for weeks?

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‎She chuckled softly, shaking her head.

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‎“Naughty girl,” Claire muttered with amusement, giggling at the thought. “Poor, unsuspecting boss. He doesn’t stand a chance.”

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‎Still smiling, she picked up her phone again to check the time. Her eyes widened slightly.

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‎"Oh, time is ticking," she said, her tone more urgent now.

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‎She quickly grabbed her food and began eating, not wanting to be late. Her bites were fast but focused, as if she were racing the clock. As soon as she finished, she got up, cleared the table with practiced ease, and headed to the kitchen. She tossed the empty plastic plate into the trash, washed her hands quickly, and without wasting another second, grabbed her bag and walked briskly out of the house.

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‎Edward pulled into the company’s underground parking garage just as the city began to stir with early morning life. He navigated confidently to his reserved parking space, the tires of his sleek black SUV rolling smoothly over the concrete. With practiced efficiency, he shut off the engine, stepped out, and locked the car with a soft beep. His polished shoes echoed across the floor as he strode toward the elevator, his expression calm and focused—already slipping into work mode.

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‎Upon reaching the elevator, he pressed the button for the twenty-fifth floor without hesitation. The doors slid open with a soft chime, and he stepped inside. As the doors closed behind him, the familiar hum of the elevator surrounded him, lifting him upward through the building’s core. It was a routine he’d performed countless times before, but one he never found dull—it was a quiet moment of transition, from the outside world to the structured demands of his professional domain.

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‎When the elevator came to a smooth stop and the doors parted, Edward stepped out with purpose. The hallway was quiet, the soft lighting reflecting off polished floors. He walked straight toward his assistant's office, which sat adjacent to his own, expecting to find her already settled in for the morning.

‎Without pausing, he turned the handle and pushed the door open, not bothering to knock—it was a habit of his. He considered formalities like that unnecessary when it came to his assistant. However, to his mild surprise, the room was empty. His brows furrowed slightly as he scanned the space. The desk was untouched, her chair neatly pushed in, the computer still dark.

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‎Frowning, Edward glanced at his wristwatch. 7:55 a.m.—she still had a few minutes, he supposed. Though punctuality was something he valued, he reminded himself that not everyone shared his strict standards.

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‎With a quiet sigh, he pulled the door closed and turned toward his own office. Unlocking the door, he stepped into the familiar space, the smell of clean paper lingering faintly in the air. He slipped off his jacket and draped it over the back of the chair before settling in behind his desk. A few keystrokes brought his computer to life, and as the screen flickered on, Edward leaned back slightly, mentally preparing for the tasks that awaited him.

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‎The workday had officially begun.

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