The city had barely stirred awake when Lily Carter opened her eyes, groggy and unmoored. Jet lag clung to her like a stubborn second skin, pulling her in and out of shallow sleep all night. She had rolled over more times than she could count, her mind replaying Alex Knight's voice in the car yesterday: Stay close to me.
It wasn't just the words. It was the way he'd said them — clipped, sharp, but threaded with something that didn't feel like business. Something heavier. Almost personal.
Now, as sunlight filtered pale gold through the hotel curtains, Lily groaned into the pillow and willed her brain to shut up. She was supposed to be preparing for another round of meetings, another day of shadowing Alex in the lion's den of investors and strategists. Instead, all she could think about was the way his eyes had burned when they met hers.
Dragging herself out of bed, she washed her face, ran a comb through her hair, and pulled on the first semi-presentable outfit she could find in her suitcase: a soft blue blouse and tailored slacks. Practical, she told herself. Professional. Safe. But even as she buttoned the blouse, she wondered whether Alex would find it too casual, or whether he'd give her one of those withering once-overs that made her want to squirm.
Stop it, she scolded herself. He's your boss. This is work. Breakfast, not a date.
Still, her heart picked up speed when she stepped into the hotel lounge twenty minutes later and saw him already there.
Alex Knight was, of course, immaculate. Crisp charcoal suit despite the early hour, tie already knotted, posture straight as if the chair had molded itself to him. A newspaper sat neatly folded beside his untouched cup of black coffee. He wasn't scrolling through a phone like other guests — he was simply sitting there, scanning a financial brief with the kind of focus that made people nervous just watching him.
And then he looked up.
For a fraction of a second, Lily swore his gaze softened before he masked it with his usual cool detachment. "You're late."
She checked the clock on the wall. "It's seven thirty."
"Yes. I've been here since seven."
Lily resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she slid into the chair across from him. "Of course you have. You probably wrestled spreadsheets in your sleep."
Something flickered at the corner of his mouth, though he didn't give her the satisfaction of a full smile. "And you," he countered smoothly, "look like you lost a wrestling match with your pillow."
Her jaw dropped. "Wow. Brutal, Mr. Knight. Insulting an employee before coffee — isn't that against HR regulations?"
He lifted his cup in mock acknowledgment, though his expression stayed dry. "If you think this is brutal, Ms. Carter, you've clearly never sat across from an investor who's bored."
A server approached, breaking the tension. Lily ordered pancakes with fruit and orange juice — partly because she needed comfort food, partly because she liked watching Alex's barely perceptible disapproval whenever she didn't choose the "efficient" option.
Sure enough, when the server left, Alex glanced at her, brow arching. "Pancakes. Before a day of negotiations."
"They fuel creativity," Lily said with an exaggerated shrug. "You should try it sometime. Who knows? Maybe you'd smile more."
He didn't answer, but she caught it — that tiny flicker again, as though he were fighting the tug of amusement. It was enough to send a warm little victory curling through her chest.
Their food arrived quickly. Alex's was predictable: scrambled eggs, whole grain toast, black coffee refilled. Efficient fuel. Lily's plate was the opposite — colorful, messy, syrup pooling like liquid gold across the stack. She wasted no time in cutting into it, humming with satisfaction at the first bite.
Then, without hesitation, she reached her fork across the table and stole a corner of his toast.
Alex stilled. His gaze lifted slowly from the missing triangle of bread to her face.
"What?" she asked innocently, chewing. "Sharing builds teamwork."
For a long moment, his expression was unreadable, carved from ice. Then — impossibly — he let it go. He didn't reprimand her, didn't pull the plate closer, didn't even raise an eyebrow. He just went back to his eggs, as if her theft was not worth noting.
And yet Lily caught the shift — the way his shoulders eased just slightly, the way his silence wasn't disapproval but something stranger, something more dangerous. Permission.
It felt… domestic. Too domestic. Like something a couple would do at breakfast, not a boss and his assistant. The realization made her chest tighten.
She cleared her throat, desperate to cut the moment. "So, um… what's on the agenda today?"
"Site visit," Alex said, as though reading from a mental calendar. "Followed by another round of discussions. Dinner tonight."
"Right." Lily poked at her pancakes. "So basically: work, work, more work."
"That is what we're here for."
She smiled faintly. "And here I thought you brought me for my sparkling personality."
This time, he did almost smile — a ghost of one, quick and sharp. "Don't flatter yourself."
But the way his gaze lingered on her across the table betrayed him. Just for a heartbeat, it was there: the warmth he kept chained behind all that armor.
Lily looked away first, suddenly finding her orange juice fascinating. Her heart was pounding again, traitorously loud.
The rest of breakfast passed in quieter tones, but the air between them was different. Softer. Charged in ways that had nothing to do with business. By the time they stood to leave, Lily found herself almost disappointed to leave the bubble of their corner table — as though the world outside the lounge would shatter whatever fragile shift had happened between them.
Alex, of course, acted as if nothing had changed. He pushed in his chair, buttoned his jacket, and gestured for her to follow. But when they walked side by side toward the elevators, his hand brushed hers by accident.
And this time, neither of them pulled away immediately.