Arabella was getting used to the burn in her heels.
Used to the chaos of printer jams, impossible deadlines, and snobby department heads who thought "Aria Bell" was just another pretty face trying to play office.
She didn't mind.
She wanted them to underestimate her.
Because behind the bubblegum lip gloss and designer tote, Arabella Quinn had something no one else in that building had:
Cassian Vale's last name.
They just didn't know it yet.
---
He started showing up more.
First in meetings.
Then in the elevator.
Then — casually, of course — passing by her department twice in one morning with no real reason to be there.
Her manager whispered to the team after he left, "Did you see that? That's the CEO. He never walks this floor."
Arabella kept her face neutral. Inside, her heart roared.
Because every time their eyes met in public, Cassian wore the same expression:
Nothing.
Cold. Blank. Professional.
But when no one was looking?
His gaze dropped.
To her mouth. Her hands. Her skirt hem.
Like he couldn't help it.
Like he hated himself for noticing.
---
Enter: Lena Grant.
Senior fashion advisor. Gorgeous. Sharp. Obsessed with Cassian. The moment Lena caught him glancing at Arabella in the hallway, she clocked it.
Hard.
"She's cute," Lena said, sipping her overpriced oat milk latte as Arabella passed by. "In a doll-on-a-shelf kind of way."
Arabella smiled. "Takes one to know one."
That was the beginning.
And it only got worse when Evan entered the picture.
---
Evan Reyes.
Tall, clever, annoyingly charming.
He was Arabella's assigned mentor. The only one who offered to help her survive the brutal world of office politics.
"You remind me of a flamingo in a shark tank," he said with a grin one day. "Pretty. Pink. And weirdly fearless."
She laughed, for the first time in days.
And of course, Cassian walked in at exactly that moment.
Evan offered her his cupcake.
Arabella took it.
Cassian said nothing. But his jaw tightened as he walked past them.
That night, at home, she found a box of cupcakes waiting on the kitchen counter. No note. No explanation.
All her favorites.
She stared at them for a long time.
Did he know? Did he care?
Was this his version of… claiming her?
---
The next day, he cornered her in the hallway.
"Is Reyes bothering you?"
Arabella blinked. "What?"
"Evan Reyes. He's overly familiar."
"We work together."
"You laugh together."
Her eyes narrowed. "So?"
"So be careful," Cassian said coldly. "You're not here to make friends."
"No," she snapped. "I'm here to work. And it seems like the only one who can't separate personal from professional… is you."
Their eyes locked.
Heat. Silence. Something unsaid pulsing between them.
For a second, she thought he might say something real. Something vulnerable.
But then—
"You're late for your meeting," he said, and walked away.
---
Arabella turned, heart pounding, cheeks burning.
Let him be cold. Let him pretend.
She would rise anyway.
And if he wanted her, he'd have to earn her this time.
---