Game On

The room was full. Senior execs, the client rep, two people from legal, and Cazien Wolfe seated at the end of the table like he was already bored with the outcome.

I stood at the front, clicker in one hand, palm sweating against a notepad I wouldn’t use. The screen behind me glowed with the opening slide of a branding concept I’d built in forty-eight hours on too little sleep and too much caffeine.

I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t stutter. I pitched. Clear, focused with Strategy-first. They all listened. Not out of respect at first just curiosity. Interns didn’t lead decks. Interns didn’t fill rooms like this but by the second slide, they leaned forward; by the fourth, they nodded and the final slide, no one was breathing through their mouths anymore. I clicked the remote once. The screen went black.

There was silence - the contemplative kind. Then the client rep said, “That’s what we’ve been asking for.” A few heads turned my way. One woman even smiled but I didn’t move. I just looked at Cazien. He hadn’t spoken. He hadn’t blinked. His face didn’t shift once during the whole pitch.

Now, finally, he sat back and crossed one ankle over his knee.

“Well,” he said. “She listens.” Not good job. Not well done. Just she listens. The room chuckled. Like it was some inside joke I hadn’t earned yet. I said nothing. When the meeting ended, people stood and offered quick compliments. Polite praise even. I thanked them all. Even the ones who hadn’t looked at me until I finished. I was halfway out the door when I felt it that presence.

“Miss Cole.” His voice as usual calm and professional. I turned. Cazien stood near the screen, one hand in his pocket, the other holding the clicker I’d left behind. He handed it to me. Our fingers didn’t touch but the space between them sparked all the same.

“No one’s going to give you credit,” he said.

“I know.” I nodded.

“Take it anyway.” His eyes held mine; calm, flat and cold. I left with the clicker in my hand and my pulse in my ears. He hadn’t smiled. He hadn’t blinked but something in his voice had shifted. He wasn’t playing anymore. He was watching me intensely now.

*************

I didn’t mean to find him.

The office gym was supposed to be empty. It was after eight, half the lights were already off, and the only reason I’d even stopped there was to chase down a logistics manager who owed me numbers for a presentation but, the door was half open. And Cazien Wolfe was there.

Alone with his shirt off. Hands wrapped in cloth, sweat slicking down his back as he hit the bag in the corner with steady, brutal precision. There was nothing polished or clean about his swing. It was violent. I froze in the doorway. He didn’t see me at first. His body moved with a rhythm that didn’t need eyes - punch, pivot and reset.

His jaw clenched with every swing. His chest rose and fell hard. He wasn’t working out. He was exorcising something. I should’ve left unnoticed but I stayed. It was the first time I’d seen him stripped of control. Not dressed in a thousand-dollar suit. No audience or composure just sweat, fists, and breath.

Then he stopped. Not because he was tired. Because he felt it - me. He turned, slow and sharp. Our eyes locked. His chest heaved once. Then again. The room went still. I should’ve said something. Given an excuse or a reason but my mouth stayed shut. His eyes dropped to my hands. I realized I was holding a folder grip tight enough to bend the edge.

“I didn’t know anyone was here,” I said finally.

His expression didn’t move but the tension in his arms didn’t go away either.

“You always make a habit of watching people without permission?”

“You always train like you’re trying to kill something?” I held my ground. He picked up a towel from the bench and wiped his face without taking his eyes off me.

“No meetings. No cameras. No deadlines,” he said, with low and steady voice, “This is the only place in the building that isn’t a stage.”

“Even the CEO needs to escape, huh?” I snorted awkwardly but he didn’t answer that. He just stood there, towel in one hand with gaze pinned to mine like he was trying to figure out if I saw too much. I did. And he knew it. I stepped back first. That was the rule here, right? He wins. He always wins.

“I’ll come back later,” I said. He didn’t stop me but he didn’t look away either. I left with my heart in my throat and a question I didn’t know how to ask burning at the edge of my tongue. What does a man like him do when the mask comes off? And what happens to the woman who sees him without it?

**************

The cafeteria sat on the twelfth floor, lined with high glass windows and overpriced silence.

I didn’t come here to make friends, but Daniel Cho - mid-level strategist, sharp suits and harmless smile - had been one of the few people in the building who talked to me like I was more than a rumor. When he invited me to lunch, I said yes. I shouldn’t have. We were sitting at a corner table, two trays between us, my salad untouched, his sandwich half gone. He was walking me through some internal team structure when I saw the shift happen.

His eyes flicked past my shoulder. His voice became slower and guarded. That’s when I turned.

Cazien Wolfe stood near the espresso bar, coffee in hand, talking to no one. Looking at only one thing.

Me.

He didn’t blink. He took one sip. Then started walking toward us. Daniel straightened.

“Mr. Wolfe,” he said, nodding.

Cazien stopped at the edge of our table. His gaze cut briefly to Daniel. Then back to me.

“Interns on Digital Strategy aren’t cleared to exchange client insights with Strategy leads outside their assigned projects.”

“We weren’t…” Daniel blinked. He raised a hand just enough to silence him.

“Unless that’s changed?”

“No,” I said. “It hasn’t.” Cazien’s eyes locked on mine.

“You learn fast, Miss Cole,” he said. His tone was cool but the edge was sharp enough to draw blood. Then he turned to Daniel, as if we weren’t in the middle of something at all.

“You’re needed upstairs,” he said. Daniel stood without a word. He knew a dismissal when he heard one. Cazien watched him go, then looked back at me. His jaw shifted once.

“You’re not here to network your way through the ranks.”

“I was eating lunch.” I kept my voice even.

“Watch how people see you.” I stood slowly, closed the space between us, but not enough for contact.

“Or what?” I asked. “You’ll start pulling seats out from under everyone I talk to?” He didn’t smile.

“You want to be seen as untouchable,” he said. “Don’t make yourself reachable.” Then he walked away, leaving the smell of coffee behind. I sat back down. My salad was still untouched. The room hadn’t gone silent but I had; because jealousy wasn’t the worst thing a man like that could feel. It was what he’d do with it next that scared me more.