LOGINOver time Oliver notices Harper’s presence more and more. He notices how she handles her tasks with efficiency and grace. He notices her attention to detail and how skilled she was at organizing. As time went on, his interest in her became less professional, he began to wonder about her dreams and interests. He wondered what she did when she was not at work. Oliver did not want to creep her out by crossing professional lines and he did not want to be the typical CEO who acts inappropriate with female employees. The age difference did not help.
One day, he called for Harper through the intercom. As he waited for her, paperwork in hands, he sat on his brown leather chair feeling nervous, even though he was just calling her to print out a few documents. Harper walked into his office wearing a classic, sharply tailored navy-blue silk business suit. The fitted navy blazer with a structured cut emphasized her waist and was matched by a navy pencil skirt that fell just above her knees. The blazer was contrasted by a crisp white button-up shirt, which she wore underneath, the top button, was unbuttoned revealing a silver pendant. “Good morning, sir,” she greeted with a friendly smile. The morning light streamed through the large windows of his office, casting sharp shadows across the polished mahogany desk where he sat. His fingers drummed against the stack of papers before him as he watched Harper enter, his icy blue eyes taking in every detail of her appearance- the way the silk navy-blue fabric hugged her curves, the confidence in her stride.
“Morning,” he replied gruffly, pushing his glasses higher up his nose. His voice carried its usual clipped tone, but there was something different today- a slight hesitation before he continued speaking. “I need these documents printed out immediately.” He slid the papers across the desk towards her without meeting her gaze directly. Instead, he focused on adjusting a pen on his blotter, avoiding eye contact as if afraid of what might happen if he looked at her too long. “You are looking particularly... Put together today,” he noted. “Thank you, sir,” she said softly, and her eyes roamed his seated form. “Anything else? Perhaps a cup of coffee?” A faint flush crept across Oliver’s cheeks at her suggestion, a subtle shift in his otherwise stoic expression. He cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses once more even though they were already perfectly positioned. His eyes flickered up to meet hers for a brief second before darting away again. “A coffee would be... Acceptable,” he conceded, the word coming out more gruffly that intended. He leaned back in his brown leather chair, the leather creaking softly under his weight. “Black. Two sugars.” His large hands moved restlessly on the desk surface, one hand reaching for a pen and twirling it between his fingers. The movement was unconscious, betraying his nervous energy he usually kept well hidden behind his CEO faced.
Harper moved to the office door then with a sigh said, “Sir, if I may.” she hesitated, then turned to look at him. “You drink too much black coffee, how about a latte instead?” Oliver’s fingers paused mid-twirl, the pen held motionless between them. He stared at her, his icy blue eyes narrowing slightly as he processed her suggestion. A latte? That sounded far too... Indulgent for his usual routine. “I do not drink lattes,” he said flatly, though there was less conviction in his voice that usual. His gaze lingered on her figure near the doorway, noting the way the sunlight caught highlights in her hair. “But...” he trailed off, leaning forward slightly in his chair. One bread shoulder lifted in a half-shrug. “Fine. A small latte. With almond milk and one sugar.” The words came out grudgingly, as if admitting such a thing pained him somehow, yet there was something softer in his expression now- perhaps curiosity about why she would make such a recommendation in the first place. “And bring yourself one while you are at it,” he said, trying to sound casual. A small smile spread on Harper's face and she nodded. Calmly she left his office and a few minutes later she returned with two lattes.
Oliver watched as she placed the take away latte cup beside his hand, the rich aroma of coffee and almond milk filling the air between them. His eyes followed her movement, noting how carefully she positioned the cup just so on the coaster. He picked it up slowly, his large fingers wrapping around the warm ceramic mug. The steam rose in delicate curls between them. “Alright,” he said gruffly, taking a small sip. The sweetness of the almond milk was unexpected against his usual bitter black coffee. “Taste... Different,” he admitted after another sip, his gaze still fixed on Harper’s face. His icy blue eyes seemed to soften slightly as he studies her over the rim of the cup. “Not bad.” He set the latte down with more care than usual and leaned back in his chair again. “So, what made you think I needed a change from my usual routine?”
Harper hesitated then she said, “Oh, uh... Well, you have approximately eight cups of black coffee a day and around noon you normally take an anti-acid. I thought maybe if you drank a less bitter coffee...” For the first time since Oliver met her, she seemed nervous. “I hope I did not overstep, sir,” she added shyly. Oliver’s expression shifted subtly at her admission- a flicker of surprise crossing his features before he quickly masked it with his usual stoicism. He had not realized she had noticed such details about his daily habits, let alone cared enough to suggest a change. “I see,” he said quietly, picking up the latte again and taking another sip. The warmth of the mug seemed to ground him somehow. “You have been paying attention.” His gaze held her longer this time, searching for something in her nervous expression. “Most secretaries would not bother noticing things like that. They just follow orders and do not question. But no, you did not overstep.” He sat the cup down with deliberate care. “Oh, alright. Maybe tomorrow you could try a cafe mocha,” Harper suggested softly and looked down at the latte in her hands.
Harper placed the takeaway coffee cup on Marius desk and said professionally, “I can’t say I know everyone’s names, but I understand my role. I already prepared the proposed budget for Knox’s campaign. Andrew from accounting would like to discuss something and asked for an appointment today.” He leaned back, impressed despite himself. He had not expected much more than a few introductions and some trouble finding the printer, let alone a prepared budget. “You have been busy then,” he said, his yellow green eyes scanning the folder she had placed on his desk. “I like that. Efficiency is exactly what this department needs right now.” He pulled the budget toward him, flipping through the pages with practiced ease. “As for Andrew from accounting– he is always looking for something to discuss. Tell him I can do three o’clock. I want to get through Knox’s briefing first.”Marius looked up from the p
Marius took the takeaway latte from Tera, the warmth seeping into his palm. “Not much,” he admitted, pulling out his chair and sinking into it. Tera’s gaze lingered on his for a second too long before she straightened up. “This campaign,” Tera started. “Is it going to be a long one?” he took a slow sip of the latte, the caffeine hitting his system with a sharp jolt. He set the cup down on his desk and leaned back, tapping his pen against his chin. “Knox is driving it,” he said, referring to the Scottish designer. “He has got big ideas for this campaign, so it might stretch out longer than we originally planner. He wants to push the boundaries with the visuals.” Tera nodded slowly, her expression unreadable. “Knox. Right. I have heard he can be… demanding.”“You have no idea,” Marius muttered, a faint weary smile tugging at his lips. “But he knows what he wants, and that make
Oliver reaches the elevator first, pressing the button with a sharp click of his finger. The doors slide open, revealing the polished interior. He steps inside and turns to face Harper, his expression once again a mask of professional calm. But as the elevator begins its ascent, his icy blue eyes catching hers in the mirror, and for a split second, that knowing look is returned. “Let’s see how long that lasts,” he says quietly, the words barely audible over the hum of the elevator. The doors open on the executive floor and he steps out. “I am heading to advertisement,” she said casually. “Have a nice day.” She smiled lightly and pressed the button in the elevator. He watches the elevator doors close on her face, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than a casual glance would require. Then he turns and heads toward his office, his mind already shifting, compartmentalizing the warmth of the morning into a neat drawer to be opened later.
“You do not normally drive,” Harper comments. “What did you give your driver the day off?” Oliver keeps his icy blue eyes on the road, one hand resting casually on the steering wheel. He does not offer an explanation immediately, his jaw set in that way that suggests he has already decided. “He is off today,” he says simple, his tone matter of fact. “I needed to be in the right headspace for this meeting. Driving myself helps me focus.” He manoeuvres the car through a tight turn, his movements precise and controlled. The silence between them stretches for a moment before he adds, almost as an afterthought. “Besides, I wanted more time with you this morning.” The professional mask slips just enough for that hint of possessiveness to show through, before he quickly corrects his posture and settles back into his quiet, composed self. Her hand rests on his thigh. “It is a nice change of pace,” she said with a bright
“He knows,” Oliver says, his voice low and steady. “But he is not stupid. He will be watching for any sign of favouritism. If we come in there acting like a team, he might suspect something, but if we present a solid business case, he will be too busy calculating the ROI to care about our personal lives.” He steps closer to Harper, his hand sliding to the small of her back, pulling her just an inch closer. “We keep it strictly professional. No lingering looks, no inside jokes. I will be the demanding boss, and you will be the efficient secretary who just happens to have a brilliant mind for strategy.” his eyes soften as they meet hers. “That is going to be hard,” she comments softly. “I like it when you are all demanding and professional.” His hand on her back tightens for a fraction of a second, his knuckles brushing the fabric of her jacket. A slow, dangerous smirk spreads across his face– the kind he usually saves
“The Love Self Esteem Project,” Oliver repeats, testing the words. “It is a bold move. It would certainly differentiate us from the usual high-glamour, retouch heavy campaigns our competitors are running.” He taps his fingers rhythmically against the countertop, a habit he falls into when he is processing a new strategy. “It would require a completely overhaul of our visual direction. We would need to move away from perfectionism and focus on authenticity. That means no heavy airbrushing, real skin textures, diverse casting– the whole works.” He looks at Harper, his eyes sharp with interest. “It is a significant pivot for our brand identity. It would be a massive undertaking, but the PR benefits could be enormous of we execute it correctly.”“And it could significantly decrease the spending,” Harper added confidently. Oliver’s eyebrows shoot up, and he leans forward, his interest piqued by the financial a
“Caveman Oliver is kind of hot,” she admitted seductively. Oliver’s icy blue eyes darkened instantly at her seductive admission, the last remnants of his embarrassment evaporating completely. A low growl rumbled in his chest as he backed her against the closed front door, caging
“Whoa,” Glen said in amazement as his gaze roamed over Oliver’s shiftless form. Oliver’s icy blue eyes narrowed instantly at the way Glen’s gaze roamed appreciatively over his bare chest. The other man’s obvious appreciation only fueled the fire of jealousy burning in his gut. “Can I help you?” O
“Tell me his name. I want to know who has access to bring my girlfriend clothes when she stays over,” Oliver demanded softly when he finally pulled back for air. “Glen,” Harper muttered and continued kissing him, he fingers running through his wild black hair, gently. Oliver’s entire body went st
“Noted, healthy stuff, fruits, veggies… and nuts. Got it. I will make sure we are never short on snacks for my girlfriend.” He said with a nod. The word ‘girlfriend’ slipped out naturally this time, feeling less foreign on his tongue now that the reality of their relationship had settled in overn







