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.
The waitress tucked her hands behind her apron for a moment and glanced between them. “Have you had a chance to decide what you would like to eat?” she asked. The man looked down at his menu before closing it. “I will have the breakfast burrito, please.” The waitress nodded and wrote the order down on her notepad. “And for you?” she asked, turning toward Harper, who considered the menu for another moment before answering. “I will have the bacon and eggs, with toast and fries on the side, please.” “Certainly,” the waitress replied, adding the order to her notes. “One breakfast burrito, and bacon and eggs with toast and fries.” She briefly checked that she had everything written down correctly before giving them another smile. “I will put that through to the kitchen for you.” With that, she slipped the notepad back into her apron and headed toward the counter, leaving them with their freshly poured cof
The waitress is dressed in a practical café uniform consisting of a black short sleeve polo shirt with a small, subtle logo on the chest; a black apron tied around her waist that extends down to around her knees and has a large front pocket; black fitted trousers underneath the apron; and black work shoes. In her left hand she is holding a small glass coffee server containing dark coffee and had a dark handle, with a narrow spout at the front. She appears to be carrying it carefully by the handle. In her right hand, she carries a white ceramic coffee cup, held steadily near waist height. She placed the glass coffee server and ceramic coffee cup on an empty table. “Good evening. Welcome to The Daily Grind,” the waitress said, holding the door open for them. “Is it just the two of you tonight?” When they confirmed that it was, she gestured toward the cozy interior. “Wonderful. Follow me, and I will get you settled.”She led them
“Nervous.” He repeats, his tone sceptical. “Marius does not get nervous. He gets annoyed, he gets demanding, he gets loud. But nervous implies he is afraid of something.” He pulls the car into the lane for The Daily Grind, his mind racing through possibilities. Marius would not be nervous about a former employee unless there was something more to the story– something involving the Clear Care Clark campaign, or something Seraphine had left behind. “Did he say anything else?” he asks, his voice dropping into the focused, analytical mode he uses when a problem needs solving. “Anything about why he was acting that way around you?”“Nope,” Harper shook her head lightly. “But he does not exactly confide in me.” Oliver pulls into the café’s parking spot, the engine cutting off with a final, quiet hum. Four cars are parked in front of The Daily Grind. On the far left is a black SUV. Next to it
“You look,” Oliver starts, then stops, shaking his head. “You look dangerous. In a very good way.” He grabs his car keys from the dresser and steps toward her, his gaze sweeping over her entire outfit with slow, appreciative eyes. The possessiveness her feels in private does not disappear just because they are getting ready for work; it just tightens into something more subtle, a quiet pride in the woman standing before him. “That outfit is going to make is very difficult for me to focus on anything other than you during the meeting,” he says, hie voice dropping low. He reaches out and adjusts the collar of her blouse with a lingering touch, his fingers brushing against the warm skin of her neck. “You always say that. But somehow you always manage.” Harper said with an amused smirk and stepped closer to him. “It is a skill,” Oliver admits, his icy blue eyes locked on hers as she closes the gap between them. “A very di
Oliver pauses, looking at Harper behind him as she placed the mouthwash back on the vanity. “And Harper?” his tone softens, losing that edge of morning efficiency. “I am really looking forward to tonight.” There was a moment of silence then he stepped out of the bathroom and grabbed his watch from the nightstand, sliding it onto his wrist and checking the time. 8:15 AM. Harper followed him out of the bathroom; a towel still wrapped around her. “Me too,” she said heading for the bedroom door. “And then we will have the while weekend…” she added before slipping out of the room and going down the hall to the guest room where her clothes are currently in a sports bag. The mention of the whole weekend makes Oliver’s lips curve into a satisfied smile. He grabs a navy-blue suit jacket from his wardrobe. He lifted it by the shoulders and slipped his arms into the sleeves, rolling his shoulders slightly to settle the jacket into pl
Harper followed Oliver out of the shower. “You know I have spent so much time here; I think I might need to get a toothbrush. And a drawer or two,” she said with a hint of amusement lacing her tone. The suggestion hits Oliver with the force of a freight train, but he keeps his expression carefully neutral. He is already drying his black hair with a towel, but his hands pause for a fraction of a second. A toothbrush. A drawer. That is not just a visit, that is moving in. he looks at her, really looks at her– damp, glowing, and looking entirely too comfortable in his space. The thought of her things scattered throughout his perfectly organized apartment, of her toothbrush sitting next to his in the bathroom, sends a surge of possessive warmth through him that he can’t quite suppress. “A toothbrush and a drawer,” he repeats slowly, a small, dangerous smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That sounds like a very significant commitment, Harp
Oliver’s eyes widened slightly at her blunt observation, a low chuckle escaping his lips. The sound was rich and unexpected, breaking the usual seriousness, he carried around the office. “In a hurry,” he repeated, his voice laced with amusement. “You are saying my designers need to consider emergen
Oliver’s expression softened further, a rare warmth entering his icy blue eyes. He watched the way her hand instinctively went to her cheek, the nervous gesture only making her more endearing. “Clubbing,” he repeated with a dismissive wave of his hand. “That is what people in their twenties do. The
A small, almost imperceptible smile touched the corner of Oliver’s mouth as she suggested a cafe mocha for tomorrow. The idea of another deviation from his usual black coffee routine seemed to amuse him in a way he rarely allowed himself. “Cafe mocha, huh?” he repeated, his voice losing some of its
Harper Miller had always been a little too nerdy, despite her attractive appearance. She had always preferred order to chaos. Books over parties. And work over vacations. Her parents were constantly pushing her to go out and socialize more; her peers were always inviting her out to movie nights and







