Chapter 9: Resistance is Futile

“Perhaps, in this case resistance is futile? Perhaps, the opposite is the solution.” Harper suggested trying to maintain a professional face. She felt her cheeks flush and her heartbeat quicken. “How about a drink after work?” she added quickly, before she can change her mind. Oliver’s eyebrows shot up at her bold suggestion, a flicker of surprise mixed with intrigue crossing his features. “A drink?” he repeated slowly, his voice dropping to a dangerous level. “You want to go for drinks with me after work?” He took a step closer, leaning down slightly so his face was level with hers. The scent of his cologne filled the space between them, mingling with the lingering tension from their earlier encounter. “And what exactly do you think would happen if we went for drinks?” he asked quietly, his icy-blue eyes searching hers intently. “Because I am pretty sure neither of us would be thinking about business by the time last call rolls around.”

The implication of his words made Harper take a deep breath. “Well. This is not a business proposal,” she countered. Oliver’s expression shifted, the last remnants of his professional demeanor dissolved into something raw and hungry. The corners of his mouth curved into a genuine, predatory smile that sent a shiver down her spine. “Not a business proposal,” he echoed, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Good, because I am done pretending this is about work.” He straightened up, moving around to her side of the desk with deliberate steps. His hand came to rest on the back of her chair, his fingers brushing against the fabric of his jacket that she was wearing. “Your place or mine?” he asked bluntly, leaning in close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her ear. “Because I don’t think either of us is going to make it through a whole drink before we are tearing each other’s clothes off.” His free hand slid down her arm possessively, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

“I have a roommate...” Harper thought out loud. Second thoughts cross her mind, but she quickly shoves them away and add, “So your place, I guess,” Oliver’s icy blue eyes darkened with satisfaction at her response, a low growl of approval rumbling in his chest. The knowledge that she would be coming to his apartment sent a wave of possessive heat through him. “Good, we can drive there together after work.” he said firmly, straightening up and adjusting his jacket with newfound purpose. He moved back toward his office door, pausing with his hand on the knob. “Don’t go disappearing.” The command was delivered over his shoulder without looking back, leaving no room for misinterpretation. Harper’s imagination flooded with possible future scenarios. She turned back to her computer screen, not really focusing on what was on the screen. Her thoughts drifted to what might happen.

Oliver went to sit by his desk. He took the accounting report, with the intention of reading it, but he could barely pay attention to the words and numbers on the page. After a few minutes passed, he opened his top drawer to get a calculator and saw Harper’s bra. His hand froze mid-reach when his fingers brushed against lace. His heart hammered against his ribs as he pulled out the delicate black bra, holding it up by one strap under the harsh office lighting. For a long moment, he just stared at it– the evidence of their interrupted encounter sitting right here in his private space. The fabric was small enough to fit in his palm, yet it felt like a bomb had just been planted in his carefully controlled world. His thumb traced over the lace edge where it had rested against her skin just a minutes ago. The memory of how it looked on her, how it felt under his hands, flooded back with vivid clarity. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, dropping the bra back into the drawer and slamming it shut with more force than necessary. The accounting report laid forgotten on his desk as he leaned back in his chair, running both hands through his wild black hair in frustration.

There was a soft knock on the door. “Come in,” he said absentmindedly. Harper opened the door slightly and peered her head through a crack in the door. “Marius from advertising is here to see you. He does not have an appointment.” Oliver’s eyes snapped up from his desk, irritation flashing across his features at the interruption. He ran a hand over his face, trying to compose himself before addressing her. “Tell him I am busy, schedule a meeting for tomorrow morning,” he said curtly, his voice carrying its usual CEO authority despite the turmoil inside him. His gaze lingered on Harper’s face in the doorway, taking in how professional she looked despite the large jacket he had loaned her. The sight sent another jolt of desire through him, making it difficult to focus on Marius’s request. “Unless it is an emergency, does he look like it is an emergency?” he added reluctantly, leaning forward to rest his elbow on his desk. The question was rhetorical– he knew full well that Marius probably wanted to pitch some ridiculous marketing campaign idea that could wait until tomorrow. But right not, all he could think about was how much longer he had to wait until nine o’clock.

Suddenly Marius brushed past me into Oliver’s office. “Oh, come one, lighten up Olie. I wanted to invite you to a party tonight,” Marius said casually. “It is an interactive art exhibition,” he added. Marius had light skin, reddish-brown hair styled neatly back and a well-groomed full beard. He is wearing a textured blue blazer with visible buttons on the sleeve and a folded pocket square tucked into the breast pocket. Underneath the blazer, he wears a light pink button-down shirt with an open collar. Oliver’s jaw clenched at Marius’s casual entrance, his patience already worn thin from the day’s events.