Mental Intercourse

Ava strode into the office confidently, heels clicking against the floor, her laptop and tablet in Justin’s hand as she reported her schedule for the day.

Ready to present her latest proposal to the board and senior management. Every eye in the room flicked to her as she took her place at the head of the table.

“Good morning,” she began, voice smooth and commanding. “Today, we’re discussing the rollout strategy for the Verdant project. We’ve outlined the risks, proposed mitigations, and forecasted revenue growth based on three different scenarios in the last meeting. Let’s get started.”

“Uhmm,” a voice from the far end of the conference table said.

“Uhmm what?” Ava snapped, her head bent low, typing into her laptop.

“You didn’t apologize for coming to the meeting late and keeping us waiting for over…” he stared down at his watch to check the time. “Twenty minutes,” he finished.

A gasp escaped some of the executives in the room. Ava’s head snapped up sharply as he finished his statement. Amidst the murmurs in the room, she asked.

“Who said that?”

He placed his hands on the table, pushed himself upright to his feet, before answering.

“Me.”

Ava couldn’t believe what she was seeing. The guy from the elevator and the cafe shop was in her office, in her boardroom meeting.

“Mr Carter, who is this and why is he in my boardroom?”

Carter’s words faltered, tumbling over each other before breaking off entirely. His hand shot to his collar, tugging at the knot of his tie as if the fabric itself had turned into a noose. His throat worked soundlessly, Adam’s apple bobbing as he dragged in a shallow breath.

“Miss Ava, this is Tristan Cross. He is the new Financial Analyst for the company and he will be working with us on both the Verdant and Annex expansion projects.” Carter explained, almost collapsing in his seat.

“And who gave him this position in this company without my permission?”

“He came with a recommendation letter from the higher ups,” Carter replied.

“And no one cared to inform me about this new update? Not even you Justin!” She said, her eyes darting everywhere in the room.

Tristan remained on his feet, unyielding, his gaze fixed on her like a challenge. He wasn’t going to sit, not until she bent. The realization struck Ava hard. She knew this was a battle she couldn’t win.

Ava’s jaw tightened. Her nails digging crescents into her palm beneath the table.

Every instinct screamed at her to push back, to remind Tristan whose name was on the glass doors outside. But the silence pressed heavier with each second he stood there, steady, immovable.

Her throat tightened around the words she didn’t want to say, but had no choice but to release.

“Well…” she began, “I’m sorry for keeping you all waiting for such a long time. And I hope this will not affect our meeting today. Thank you.”

A smile of satisfaction and knowing crept up Tristan’s face before he took his seat.

“Can we begin now?” Ava spat, her eyes shooting daggers at Tristan’s.

A murmur of acknowledgment rippled around the room.

She opened her slides, clicking confidently through charts and figures. Numbers, projections, timelines, all laid out with precision.

“And,” she added, gesturing toward a key slide on the projector, “if we follow this approach, we should see a thirty-five percent increase in efficiency in the first quarter alone.”

A hand rose from the far end of the table. She looked up and froze for just a heartbeat.

“Interesting projections,” he said.

Tristan, calm and collected, leaning back in his chair, eyes dark with that unnerving confidence.

“But don’t you think your assumptions about supplier capacity are a little… optimistic?”

The room seemed to hold its breath. She blinked, scanning the charts in front of her.

“Optimistic?” she echoed, her tone curt. “Our numbers are based on verified reports and previous data trends. If anything, they’re conservative.”

He tilted his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Conservative for someone else, maybe. But in my experience, even the best prepared forecasts can fall short if the teams aren’t aligned, or if management underestimates competition from rival companies.”

Ava’s jaw tightened, color rising up her cheek as she chewed her bottom lip— fighting the urge to explode.

But beneath the anger, her pulse betrayed her, quickening with a rush of something far more dangerous…

Thrill.

Her pulse accelerated, her body responding in a way she wasn’t quite ready to analyze.

“Why does he always have to push like this? Why does it feel like he’s both challenging and daring me?” Ava thought.

“I’ve accounted for competition from rival companies,” she said, leaning forward, eyes locked on him. “Every scenario has contingency plans set in place to tackle any unforeseen situations. Perhaps you’d like to propose an alternative?”

His smirk widened. “I thought you might ask.” He leaned in slightly, voice low but audible to the room. “Here’s what I would suggest…”

The room listened as he outlined adjustments to her plan, pointing out potential pitfalls and offering sharper, more aggressive strategies. Every word was precise, calculated, and somehow… magnetic.

She countered, meeting his points one by one, each suggestion delivered with calm authority, each gesture deliberate. The clash of minds was electric, a dance of intellect and dominance.

By the end of the presentation, a strange tension lingered in the room, a little discomfort, not hostility, but something charged.

The executives were impressed, scribbling notes furiously, clearly enthralled by the high-level sparring. Never in the history of her becoming CEO, has this type of sparring happened. And even Ava was impressed and thrilled at the same time.

She leaned back in her chair, exhaling slowly. Annoyed. Frustrated. And undeniably excited.

“Why does he have such an effect on me?” she wondered, staring at him as he returned to his seat, casual, unshaken, and completely aware of the storm he’d stirred.

When the meeting ended, she collected her things, trying to calm the rapid thrum in her chest. He caught her eye, just for a second, a flash of challenge and amusement passing between them.

“God help me,” she thought, walking out of the room. “I’m starting to look forward to these verbal incidents.”