"You're…" His voice was different, rougher, with a warmth that had never been there before. "You must be the new marketing girl."
Aria blinked in confusion. "Yes, sir. Aria Maxwell. We've met several times this week."
He stared at her as though seeing her for the first time, his gaze traveling slowly from her face down to her sensible heels and back up again. She still looked stunning after the long day, her brown hair tied in messy bun and her brown innocent eyes. A smile spread across his lips, a genuine smile that transformed his features into something even more devastating.
"Have we?" He stepped closer, and Aria caught a whiff of expensive cologne mixed with something distinctly male. "I think I would remember someone like you."
His voice carried none of the clipped precision she'd grown accustomed to during presentations. This voice was like aged whiskey, smooth yet burning, dangerous yet inviting.
Aria frowned. "Sir, are you feeling unwell? Should I call someone?"
Perhaps stress had finally cracked the famous Hale composure. She'd seen the shadows under his eyes growing darker each day this week.
He laughed—a rich, warm sound she had never heard from him before. "I'm feeling better than I have in days." Another step closer. "And you can drop the 'sir' nonsense. Call me Nathan."
The laugh transformed him completely. Gone was the stern, unapproachable CEO who kept everyone at arm's length. This man's eyes crinkled at the corners, revealing fine lines that spoke of smiles she'd never witnessed from him.
Something was very wrong. In the five days she'd worked for him, Nathan Hale had never once suggested anything resembling familiarity. He stood on formality like it was the last bastion of civilization.
"I think I should go," Aria said carefully, edging toward the door. "It's late, and we both have early starts tomorrow."
The digital clock on the wall read 9:47 PM.
"Stay." The word was soft but carried an undercurrent of command that stopped her retreat. "Please. I rarely get to meet my day staff properly."
Day staff? What was he talking about?
Aria's fingers tightened around her portfolio, the leather growing slick beneath her suddenly damp palms. The air between them seemed to thicken.
"I just came to get my phone charger," she explained, pointing to the black cord on the conference table.
"Then let me help you." He moved to retrieve it, his movements fluid and graceful in a way that seemed at odds with his normal rigid posture.
As he crossed the room, Aria noticed the tailored suit was the same one he'd worn during today's meetings, but the jacket now hung open, revealing a waistcoat that emphasized his broad shoulders and narrow waist. The Windsor knot of his tie had been loosened, exposing the hollow of his throat. His hair, immaculately combed during business hours, now had a slightly tousled quality, as though someone had run their fingers through it.
When he handed it to her, his fingers brushed against hers deliberately. A jolt of unexpected electricity shot up her arm at the contact. "Aria Maxwell. Tell me something about yourself that isn't in your file."
The request was so unexpected, so contrary to everything she knew about Nathan Hale, that Aria found herself answering without thinking.
"I collect vintage vinyl records," she said. "Mostly jazz and blues."
His eyes lit up. "A woman with taste. I have an original pressing of Coltrane's 'A Love Supreme' at home."
The enthusiasm in his voice was startling. The Nathan Hale she knew spoke in measured tones about market share and profit margins, not musical preferences.
"That's—" Aria swallowed, thoroughly confused by this version of her boss. "That's incredible. It's one of my favorites."
The saxophone-driven spirituality of Coltrane had carried her through many late nights of work.
"We should listen to it together sometime." The suggestion hung in the air between them, intimate and inappropriate. His eyes never left hers, dark with an interest that the daytime Nathan Hale had never shown.
Aria found herself wondering if perhaps she'd mistaken someone else for her boss. But no, the chiseled jawline, the aristocratic nose, the perfectly tailored bespoke suit, this was definitely Nathan Hale.
'Something is so wrong. He must have drank too much,' she thought, searching for any explanation for this bizarre behavior.
"Mr. Hale—"
"Nathan," he corrected, moving closer until barely a foot separated them. The scent of his cologne intensified "And before you say something about professional boundaries, let me clarify. Right now, I'm not your boss. I'm just a man who finds you fascinating."
His gaze traveled over her face with deliberate slowness, lingering on her lips in a way that made her heart race. This was more than inappropriate.
Aria's heart hammered against her ribs. "I don't understand. You've barely spoken to me all week."
Had he even noticed her beyond her role in the marketing department? During meetings, his gaze had always been coolly assessing, focused on spreadsheets and projections rather than the person presenting them.
Confusion or maybe frustration flickered across his expression. "Perhaps my daytime self is blind as well as boring." He reached out, his fingertips hovering near her cheek without touching. "But I see you perfectly clearly, Aria Maxwell. And I'd like to know everything about you."
Daytime self? The phrase echoed in her mind. .
The moment stretched between them, charged with possibilities that Aria had never considered. This was her boss, the infamous Nathan Hale, yet he was behaving like a completely different person. The air between them crackled with tension, drawing her toward him despite every logical objection racing through her mind.
For one dizzying second, Aria imagined closing that small distance between them, discovering whether the mouth that delivered such cutting business critiques could be soft against her own.
The ding of the elevator down the hall broke the spell. Aria stepped back, clutching her charger like a lifeline, suddenly aware of how inappropriate this entire encounter was. Monday morning would arrive with brutal clarity, and this strange, intimate moment would become a professional liability.
"I really should go," she said, her voice shakier than she'd like. "Good night, Mr.—Nathan."
He didn't try to stop her, but his voice followed her to the door. "I'll be seeing you again, Aria. Count on it."
She could feel his eyes on her back as she walked away.
As she hurried to the elevator, Aria tried to make sense of what had just happened. Nathan Hale, cold, precise, professional Nathan Hale, had just flirted with her. Had looked at her like she was the only woman in the world.
And strangest of all, he had acted as though they'd never properly met before tonight.
Had she somehow missed signals during their daytime interactions? No—there had been nothing, not a lingering glance or casual touch to suggest this simmering interest. The Nathan Hale she knew maintained rigorous professionalism with everyone from board members to custodial staff.
The elevator doors closed on the image of him watching her from the conference room doorway.
Aria leaned against the elevator wall, her mind racing with conflicting emotions. Confusion, certainly. Apprehension about the professional complications. But underneath it all, an unwelcome thrill at being the focus of such intense interest from a man whose approval she'd been seeking all week.
One thing was certain—her job at Hale Industries had just become infinitely more complicated.
Because the man who had just looked at her with undisguised desire couldn't possibly be the same man who had coldly critiqued her work that very morning.
Could he?