Lines Blurred

CHAPTER 23

The office was quiet when I arrived the next morning. Too quiet.

I didn’t like quiet. Quiet meant someone was planning, watching, waiting. And with Ivy in the wings, quiet was dangerous.

I made my way to my desk, heels clicking softly against the polished floor. My hands felt clammy. Not from nerves. Not entirely. From the lingering heat of yesterday. From Reign. From whatever that connection was between us now—magnetic, volatile, unspoken.

I slid into my chair and opened my laptop. Nothing unusual. Yet every email, every notification, felt like a potential trap.

Then I felt it—him.

Reign.

Across the office. Standing by the window, arms crossed, gaze fixed somewhere outside. But I knew he wasn’t looking at the skyline. Not really.

He was aware of me. Always aware. That was part of the problem. Or part of the thrill.

I sighed. Focus. Focus. I had work to do. I had to stay sharp.

But then my phone buzzed. A message. From him.

Meet me. Conference room. Now.

I groaned.

He was persistent. Always. Relentless. Sometimes infuriatingly so. But I’d admit it. Part of me liked it. More than liked it.

I grabbed my tablet and walked briskly toward the elevator, mentally rehearsing what this could be about. Project update? Board issues? Or… the other thing?

The door to the conference room opened before I could knock. Reign was already there. Leaning against the table, casual. Deceptively casual. But his eyes—dark, unreadable, intense—pinned me to the spot.

“Sit,” he said. Simple. Commanding.

I obeyed.

“Did Ivy sleep well last night?” he asked suddenly.

I blinked. “What?”

He smirked faintly. “She always gets what she wants. I assume she’s dreaming of chaos.”

I couldn’t help a small laugh. Tension eased slightly. But then he leaned forward, voice dropping, serious. “We can’t underestimate her.”

“No,” I whispered. “We won’t.”

He nodded. And then there it was. That flicker of something dangerous, intimate, unspoken. The air between us shifted.

“I need to know something,” he said, eyes locking onto mine. “Yesterday… us… Was it real? Or a reaction to stress?”

My heart stuttered. I wanted to tell him the truth. All of it. But words felt heavy, inadequate. “It’s real,” I whispered.

He leaned back, processing, silent. Then a slow smile curved his lips. Dangerous. Satisfying. “Good. Because I don’t do this… lightly. Not with anyone.”

I felt my cheeks flush. “Noted.”

We were interrupted by a knock. Evan. Of course. Always timing perfectly.

“Just checking,” he said, peering in. “You two conspiring, or…?”

I gave him a pointed look. “Don’t even start.”

Reign’s eyes glinted. “Not yet. But soon.”

Evan grinned and left. He knew better than to linger.

We were alone again. The tension thickened.

“Ivy,” Reign said quietly. “She’s predictable, but clever. And she’s escalating.”

I nodded. “I saw the logs. Ghost key. Smart. Sneaky. But sloppy.”

He studied me. “You handled it well. Better than expected.”

Heat crept up my neck. “Thanks,” I murmured.

“Don’t thank me,” he said. “Thank yourself. You’ve got instincts. Quick thinking. And… courage.”

My chest tightened. Courage. A word that felt heavy. Appropriate. Dangerous. I swallowed. “We make a good team,” I said softly.

He smiled. A real smile. Not the controlled, calculating one he wore in meetings. The one reserved for moments like this. Vulnerable. Human. Dangerous.

“Yes,” he said. “But lines… they’re blurring. And we need to be careful.”

I frowned. “Lines?”

His gaze dropped briefly. “Professional. Personal. Emotional. You. Me. Everything. They’re… overlapping. And that’s risky.”

I felt it too. That pull between us. Stronger than before. Almost tangible. Magnetic. Impossible to ignore.

“I know,” I whispered. “But… I don’t want to stop it.”

His eyes softened. “Neither do I.”

We were quiet for a long moment, watching each other. Both aware of the gap between us. Too close to ignore. Too far to cross… comfortably.

Then, suddenly, the door swung open. A courier. Delivery for Reign. Standard office stuff. Yet the intrusion—tiny as it was—broke the spell.

Reign stood, collected the package, and turned to me. “Stay here. Don’t move.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And if I do?”

He smirked. Dangerous again. “Then consequences.”

I rolled my eyes. But my pulse raced. The game had begun.

He returned moments later. “It’s from Ivy,” he said, placing a small envelope on the table.

I stared. “Ivy?”

He nodded. “And it’s… personal.”

I hesitated. Reaching for it felt like walking into a trap. But curiosity won. I slid the envelope open.

Inside: a single sheet of paper. No signature. Just words, carefully typed.

“You think you’re clever. But clever isn’t enough. He’s yours. For now. But I play the long game. Watch closely. Your next mistake will cost more than your career.”

I shivered.

He saw it. That flicker of fear I couldn’t hide.

“Deep breath,” he said softly. “She’s trying to intimidate you. Emotionally. Mentally. Don’t give her that power.”

I nodded. “Okay. But—”

“No buts,” he said. “You’re sharp. Smart. And you’re not alone.”

The words warmed me. Anchored me. And yet, danger lingered like smoke in the room.

Reign stepped closer. Not too close. Just enough that I could feel his presence. His shoulder brushed mine. A whisper of warmth. A reminder.

“We’ll handle her,” he murmured. “Together. No mistakes. No overreach. And no falling into her traps.”

I nodded again. “Together.”

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. Meetings. Reports. Emails. But every glance at Reign reminded me: we weren’t just fighting a corporate war. We were dancing around a dangerous attraction that could ruin everything. Or save everything.

By noon, Ivy’s influence had made itself known again. A junior associate came by my desk, flustered. “Maya… Someone wants to talk to you. HR.”

I froze. HR. Alone. Involving me. Always a trap.

Reign appeared beside me before I could stand. “Stay calm,” he whispered. “Follow my lead.”

Together, we walked. Not touching. But aligned. United. A silent pact.

The HR office was tense. Too tense. Paperwork strewn about. Chairs angled toward me. And there she was. Not Ivy herself, but her proxy—a woman trained to intimidate, to unsettle.

“Ms. Renner,” the proxy said, voice syrupy sweet, tone threatening. “We need to discuss… your recent activity.”

I held my ground. Reign’s hand brushed mine, just briefly. A grounding anchor.

“I’m listening,” I said evenly.

Minutes passed like hours. Every word chosen. Every pause deliberate. Reign’s presence made me bold. Strong. Dangerous in ways I didn’t expect.

When we left, Ivy’s warning had crystallised: she was watching. Testing. And we’d just stepped into her game.

The tension between Reign and me didn’t fade after that. If anything, it intensified. We weren’t just allies now. We were co-conspirators in a high-stakes dance. And with every shared glance, every subtle touch, the lines blurred further. Professional. Personal. Emotional. Dangerous.

Back at my desk, I realised something.

I wasn’t afraid.

Not really.

Because Reign wasn’t just beside me. He was inside the fight. Inside my head. My heart.

And Ivy might have planned every move. But she hadn’t counted on us.

Not this. Not together.

And the lines… well, they were blurred. But maybe, just maybe, that made us unstoppable.