Emily woke to the smell of strong coffee and the faint sound of Chloe humming in the kitchen.
She sat up slowly on the couch, blinking against the soft morning light pouring through the window. Her overnight bag sat neatly by the door. Her shoes were already lined up. Her phone was charging on the coffee table.
Everything was ready.
Everything felt like a countdown.
"Morning," Chloe said, walking in with two mugs, hair in a messy bun and oversized hoodie hanging off one shoulder. "Thought you'd want caffeine before you face the brooding billionaire."
Emily took the mug gratefully. "I'm not facing anything."
"Mm-hmm. You're just casually going to his house at 8 a.m. on a Saturday with an overnight bag. Nothing suspicious about that."
Emily laughed under her breath but didn't argue. She was too busy staring down into her mug.
Chloe flopped next to her. "You look great, by the way."
"You haven't even seen me dressed."
"I don't need to. You always pull it together when it counts. You're the 'look natural but secretly flawless' type."
"I packed like I was going on a business trip and a weekend retreat. Just in case."
"As you should. Honestly, I'm proud of you."
Emily looked over at her, surprised.
"For what?"
"For going. For not hiding. For letting something in."
Emily softened. "I'm not letting everything in."
Chloe smiled. "Not yet."
They sat in comfortable silence, sipping coffee, until Emily's phone buzzed. Right on time.
Driver: Outside.
Emily stood, heart thumping, and grabbed her bag.
Chloe followed her to the door. "Text me. Every hour. I need updates. Vibes. Outfit changes. Kisses. Tears. Unexpected pool parties. Whatever."
Emily rolled her eyes. "It's work."
Chloe grinned. "Work doesn't come with sleepover options."
Emily paused at the door, one hand on the knob, the other holding her coffee. "What if I'm reading this all wrong?"
Chloe reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind Emily's ear. "Then you'll handle it. You always do. Just don't shut down the second it gets real. Let yourself feel it — whatever it is."
Emily hugged her tightly. "Thanks."
"Go get your mysterious millionaire."
---
The ride was quiet.
Emily sat in the back seat of the sleek black car, watching the city slip by through tinted windows. The driver didn't speak. The silence wasn't awkward — it felt oddly fitting.
Like the world was holding its breath.
When the gates to Damian's property opened, her breath did catch.
She had imagined his home before. Cold. Imposing. Pristine.
It was all that… and more.
The house stood on a hill, sharp-edged and architectural, wrapped in glass and stone. It looked like it belonged in a magazine. Every line was clean. Every corner exact. It was powerful. Intimidating. Quietly breathtaking.
And for a moment, Emily just sat there, frozen.
Then the car stopped.
The driver stepped out and opened her door.
"Miss Johnson."
She nodded, muttered a quiet thank you, and stepped into the cool morning air.
The front door opened before she could knock.
And there he was.
Damian Walker.
Wearing a black sweater, dark jeans, barefoot on polished floors, holding a mug in one hand like this was the most casual thing in the world.
It wasn't.
He looked… unfairly good.
Less like her boss, more like something out of a novel she wouldn't dare admit she read.
"Good morning," he said.
She tried to sound normal. "Morning."
"Come in."
She did.
And immediately, the energy shifted.
The house smelled like fresh espresso and cedar. The floors gleamed. The furniture was all muted tones and clean design. The windows stretched from floor to ceiling, opening up to a view of the city below. It was quiet. Elegant. Expensive.
And she felt like she had stepped into another world.
Not a guest.
An intruder.
"I set up in the study," Damian said, his voice a touch softer than usual. "But no rush. Would you like coffee first?"
"You're offering me coffee?" she said before she could stop herself.
That almost-smile appeared again. "Yes. Just for today. Don't get used to it."
He turned and disappeared into the kitchen.
Emily stood there in the open living space, soaking in the silence, the view, the weight of how intimate this felt.
He wasn't just her boss here.
He was a man with a beautiful house and quiet footsteps and a voice that warmed the air even when it was cold.
And she was very much not prepared for that.