Monday morning arrived, Aria's alarm blared at 5:30 AM, dragging her from a restless sleep filled with dreams of intense blue eyes and contradictory words. She'd spent the weekend trying to make sense of Friday night's encounter, oscillating between rationalization and confusion, maybe he'd been drinking, maybe she'd misread the situation.
She dressed carefully in a charcoal pencil skirt and cream blouse, applying extra attention to her makeup to hide the shadows under her eyes. Today's morning meeting would put her directly in Nathan's presence for the first time since their strange encounter, and she had no idea what to expect.
"You're being ridiculous," she muttered to her reflection. "He's your boss. Keep it professional."
The subway ride to Hale Industries did nothing to settle her nerves. By the time she stepped into the elevator, her heart was beating an irregular rhythm against her ribs. Would he acknowledge what happened? Would there be that same heat in his eyes?
The doors opened onto the thirty-fifth floor, and Aria took a steadying breath before stepping out.
"Morning, Maxwell," said Jeremy from the design team, barely looking up from his tablet. "Heard Hale's in a mood. Brace yourself."
Great. Just what she needed.
The morning briefing was held in the same conference room where she'd encountered Nathan on Friday night. Aria hesitated at the threshold, half-expecting to find shards of glass still scattered across the floor. But everything was immaculate.
She slipped into a seat halfway down the table, arranging her materials with forced calm. Other team members filtered in, their voices hushed as they exchanged weekend stories and prepared for the week ahead.
At precisely 8:30 AM, Nathan Hale strode into the room.
Aria's breath caught. He was impeccable as always, navy suit tailored to perfection, silver tie knotted precisely, not a hair out of place. But it was his eyes she searched, looking for any trace of the warmth that had transformed him Friday night.
There was nothing. His gaze swept the room with clinical detachment, settling on her for a fraction of a second without a flicker of recognition beyond what a boss might show for a new employee.
"The Morgan presentation is Thursday," he began without preamble, his voice cool and controlled. "I expect the final draft on my desk by end of day tomorrow."
For the next forty-five minutes, Nathan outlined the week's objectives with military precision. He delegated tasks, critiqued previous work, and set deadlines that would have the entire team working late. Not once did his demeanor soften; not once did he show any hint of the man who had asked Aria to call him by his first name.
When the meeting concluded, Aria remained in her seat, pretending to organize her notes while watching him from the corner of her eye. He was speaking quietly with Katherine, his executive assistant, pointing at something on a tablet between them.
She needed to know. Had to know if she'd imagined the entire exchange.
Gathering her courage, Aria approached as Katherine was walking away.
"Mr. Hale? Do you have a moment?"
He looked up, his expression revealing nothing but mild impatience. "What is it, Maxwell?"
"About Friday night—" she began.
"What about it?" His tone was clipped.
Aria hesitated. "I just wanted to make sure everything was... all right. You seemed... different."
Something flashed in his eyes, not recognition or warmth, but sharp, sudden attention. "Different how?"
"Just... not yourself." She shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny. "You were in this conference room very late, and there was a broken glass—"
"I don't know what you're talking about." His interruption was swift and cold. "I left at seven on Friday. Perhaps you confused me with someone else."
Aria stared at him, bewilderment washing over her. "But it was you. We talked about jazz records. You told me you had a Coltrane album—"
"Ms. Maxwell." His voice had dropped to a dangerous whisper that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. "I suggest you focus on your work rather than fabricating after-hours encounters with your superior. It's inappropriate and unprofessional."
The dismissal stung like a slap. "I'm not fabricating anything. I—"
"That will be all." He turned his attention to his tablet, effectively ending the conversation.
Aria retreated, her face burning with humiliation and confusion. She'd been so certain. The man she'd spoken with had been Nathan Hale—his face, his voice, unmistakably him, if radically different in demeanor.
Either he was lying... or he doesn't remember because he was drunk.
---
By Wednesday, Aria had nearly convinced herself she'd dreamed the entire encounter. Day-Nathan, as she'd begun thinking of him, was as distant and demanding as ever. He'd sent back her contribution to the Morgan presentation twice for revisions, each time with increasingly critical notes.
Lacks insight. Reconsider approach. Not Hale Industries standard.
It was enough to make her question why he'd hired her in the first place, if he found her work so consistently subpar.
"Don't take it personally," Jeremy told her over coffee in the break room. "Hale's like that with everyone. Ice Man, we call him. Brilliant but cold as arctic water."
"Has he ever..." Aria hesitated, unsure how to frame her question without sounding insane. "Have you ever noticed him behaving... differently? At different times of day, maybe?"
Jeremy laughed. "You mean like, does he ever smile or act like a normal human being? Not that I've seen in three years here." He stirred his coffee thoughtfully. "Though there are rumors."
Aria's pulse quickened. "What kind of rumors?"
"Nothing concrete. Just that he occasionally comes in on weekends, and he's... different. More relaxed. Even friendly." Jeremy shrugged. "Probably just wishful thinking from people who want to humanize the robot."
But Aria wasn't so sure. She thought about the warmth in Night-Nathan's eyes, the relaxed set of his shoulders, the way he'd looked at her as though truly seeing her.
"Do you know anything about his personal life?" she asked.
"Nobody does. He's Fort Knox when it comes to that stuff." Jeremy glanced at his watch and cursed. "Speaking of the devil, I've got a meeting with him in five. Pray for me."
Aria returned to her desk, her mind churning with questions. She pulled up her browser and typed: *Nathan Hale personal life*. The search returned dozens of articles about Hale Industries' meteoric rise, Nathan's business acumen, and speculation about his net worth. But personal details were scarce.
*Intensely private... Never married... No known serious relationships... Workaholic tendencies...*
One article mentioned he'd been orphaned at a young age, but provided no details. The lack of information was itself telling—a man that visible in the business world who managed to keep his private life completely hidden must be working very hard to maintain that separation.
But why? She questioned herself
---
Two days later, on Friday evening, Aria found herself working late again. The Morgan presentation had gone brilliantly, even Nathan had given her a curt nod of approval when her segment concluded, but new projects had already piled up. Despite the exhaustion dragging at her limbs, she felt a flutter of excitement at the prospect of another late night. Would the supposedly friendly Nathan appear for the weekend?