Chapter Eight — The Office Clash

The morning sun filtered weakly through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Sinclair Group Headquarters, casting a pale light across the sleek conference room.

Dianne Blake adjusted her blazer nervously, tapping a pen against her notebook. She had spent the last few hours reviewing every detail of the brand overhaul report, determined to appear calm, collected, and completely unaffected by the lingering memory of Roy Sinclair’s touch the night before.

Professional first, Blake. You’re not falling for him. Not now. Not ever.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the soft click of the conference room door. She looked up, and there he was — Roy — every inch as infuriating and magnetic as she remembered. He leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, the faintest smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Morning,” he drawled.

Dianne’s pulse skipped. She straightened her spine and forced a neutral tone. “Morning.”

He tilted his head, studying her like a chess player evaluating his opponent. “You look… focused,” he said slowly. “Or maybe that’s just fear.”

She bit her tongue, refusing to rise to his teasing. “I’m here to work, Mr. Sinclair. That’s all.”

His smirk widened. “Good. I like your honesty.”

The meeting began, but every slide, every suggestion, every passing glance between them carried an unspoken weight.

When Dianne presented her first set of recommendations, Roy leaned over her chair, peering at the laptop screen. The proximity made her acutely aware of the warmth radiating from his body.

“Hmm,” he said, his voice low. “Interesting approach. I hadn’t considered this angle.”

She kept her voice steady, though her hands trembled slightly as she typed a note. “It’s all about perception management. The public won’t forgive mistakes, but if we control the narrative…”

He nodded slowly, eyes lingering on her face. “And you’re confident it’ll work?”

“I’ve handled worse,” she replied smoothly, refusing to meet his gaze.

“And you’ve survived,” he said softly, leaning a fraction closer. “I suppose that makes you formidable.”

Dianne swallowed hard. Formidable? Her cheeks flushed. She refused to acknowledge how the compliment, veiled though it was, made her chest tighten.

Later, during a break, she poured herself a cup of coffee and tried to gather her thoughts. The office was quiet — almost too quiet — when she sensed someone approaching.

“Careful, Blake,” Roy said, his voice a teasing whisper from behind her. “Don’t spill your coffee.”

She spun around, hands gripping the mug. “Don’t sneak up on people,” she snapped.

He raised his hands in mock surrender, smirk dancing across his face. “I’m not sneaking. I’m… observing.”

“Observing? You mean spying,” she muttered, glaring.

“Semantics,” he replied. “Call it what you like. But I must admit, you’re… intriguing when you’re flustered.”

Her pulse raced. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he murmured, leaning closer, “you keep proving me wrong at every turn.”

She set the coffee down, stepping back, trying to put space between them. But it wasn’t enough. The faint smell of his cologne, the warmth radiating from his body, the intensity of his gaze — it was overwhelming.

Why is he like this? she thought, exasperated. Why can’t he just leave me alone?

The afternoon passed in a blur of reports, calls, and subtle power plays. Every time she glanced up, Roy seemed to be watching her, evaluating, teasing, challenging her.

Finally, as the workday drew to a close, she packed her things with a mixture of relief and irritation.

He appeared by the door, casually leaning against the frame. “Heading out already?”

“I work hard,” she said, ignoring the underlying tension in his tone. “And I don’t need your commentary.”

He tilted his head, smirk curling. “Oh, I’m not commenting. I’m… noting. Observing.”

Dianne groaned inwardly. This man will be the death of me.

But as she left the office, she felt his gaze linger on her back, a quiet promise that their battle — professional, personal, or otherwise — was far from over.

Back in her apartment, she sank onto the sofa, exhausted. Her mind replayed every glance, every word, every subtle brush of his presence throughout the day.

He’s infuriating. He’s arrogant. And somehow… he’s still there in my head.

Her hands pressed against her temples. She hated how much she thought about him, hated that his presence made her pulse quicken even when she tried to be rational.

Professional first. Don’t get distracted. Stay in control.

But as sleep claimed her that night, Dianne couldn’t deny it any longer: Roy Sinclair had found a way into her mind, and no amount of self-restraint could keep him out.

Roy sat back in his chair, the city lights of London reflecting off the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, but he barely noticed the taste. His mind wasn’t on the drink — it was on her.

Dianne Blake, he murmured under his breath, almost like saying her name aloud anchored the thought in reality. She’s infuriating. Obnoxious. Too clever for her own good… and yet, she has some hold on me I can’t explain.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk, hands clasped. Every detail from today — the way she walked into the office, the fire in her eyes, the way she refused to back down — played on a loop in his mind.

She doesn’t even realize it… but she’s dangerous. Dangerous in the best way.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. Roy reached for his phone, dialing Aaron without hesitation.

“Yeah?” Aaron answered, his tone sharp with curiosity.

“You won’t believe this, Aaron,” Roy said, leaning back, voice dripping with amusement. “There’s this woman… and I swear, she’s some kind of anomaly. She drives me insane, and yet, I can’t seem to look away.”

Aaron chuckled on the other end. “Is this about Dianne Blake? Because last I checked, she’s your new PR lead, not… some obsession you’re supposed to have.”

Roy’s grin widened. “Exactly, my dear friend. That’s what’s so ridiculous. She’s a thorn in my side, a challenge, and somehow… she’s planted herself right here,” — he tapped his chest — “and it feels like she owns the place.”

Aaron laughed. “You’re full of it, Roy. You just like the chase.”

Roy’s smirk turned sly. “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, Aaron. This isn’t a chase. Not entirely. I don’t want to chase her. I want her. But I also want to see how long she can resist me.”

Aaron whistled. “Smooth. You sure you’re talking about a woman and not a board meeting?”

Roy’s laugh was low, dangerous. “Believe me, this is far more stimulating than any boardroom. She’s fire, Aaron. Fire wrapped in brains, attitude, and… beauty I didn’t expect.”

Aaron shook his head audibly over the phone. “Man, you’re toast. Completely toast.”

Roy tilted his head, letting the words linger. “Oh, I know. And that’s exactly why I’m going to enjoy it. The tension, the defiance… she thinks she’s in control. I like that.”

Aaron snorted. “You? Like being challenged? That’s new.”

Roy’s eyes darkened with amusement. “I don’t like being challenged, Aaron. I like being… unsettled. And Miss Blake? She unsettles me more than anyone I’ve met in years.”

Aaron’s laughter filled the phone again. “Well, just… try not to destroy your own empire while you’re distracted, okay?”

Roy smiled faintly, placing the phone down. He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin, gaze drifting to the city skyline.

She’s trouble, he thought, and he said it like a confession. And for some reason, I don’t want to walk away.

He drained the last of his drink, already anticipating the next encounter — the next glance, the next challenge.

Because in his world, nothing was ever simple.

And Dianne Blake? She was about to make it deliciously complicated.