The office buzzed with its usual hum of productivity. Phones rang, keyboards clicked, and muffled conversations created a symphony of corporate efficiency. But Kian was far from at ease. His return to work after the heat incident was anything but smooth. Every step he took, every sideways glance from a colleague, felt like a spotlight shining directly on him.
He had spent the past two days in recovery, holed up in his apartment, burying himself in work emails and suppressing the gnawing thoughts of Adrian Blackwell. Now, seated at his desk, Kian stared blankly at his screen, his focus slipping through his fingers like sand.
The Rowland campaign was due in less than 48 hours. Normally, this kind of high-pressure situation would light a fire in him, fueling his drive to prove himself. But now? The fire was dimmed, buried beneath layers of exhaustion and confusion.
"You look like you've been hit by a bus," Lila's voice cut through his thoughts, startling him.
Kian turned to find her perched on the edge of his desk, her ever-present latte in hand and her blue eyes filled with concern. "Thanks," he said dryly, adjusting the collar of his shirt. "Just the compliment I needed this morning."
Lila rolled her eyes. "I'm serious. You look like you haven't slept in days. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Kian replied automatically, the lie slipping off his tongue before he could stop it.
Her brow furrowed. "You don't sound fine."
"I'm just tired, Lila. Deadlines, you know?" He forced a smile, hoping it would be enough to deter her questioning.
But Lila wasn't easily fooled. She leaned closer, lowering her voice. "Did something happen? You've been off lately."
Kian's stomach twisted. He hated lying to her, but the truth was a tangled mess he couldn't begin to unravel. "I'm fine," he said again, firmer this time.
Lila studied him for a moment longer, then sighed. "Alright, fine. But if you need to talk, you know where to find me."
"Thanks," Kian muttered, watching as she sauntered back to her desk.
As soon as she was gone, Kian let out a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping. The truth was, he didn't even know how to put what had happened into words. The encounter with Adrian had left him reeling, a chaotic mix of anger, shame, and something he didn't want to name.
Before he could dwell on it further, a sharp chime alerted him to a new email. He clicked it open, his chest tightening when he saw Adrian's name in the sender field.
---
Subject: Progress on Rowland Campaign
Kian,
I'd like an update on the campaign strategy. Meet me in my office at 2 PM.
— A. Blackwell
---
The message was brief, to the point, and utterly devoid of emotion—typical Adrian. But that didn't stop Kian's pulse from quickening. The idea of facing Adrian so soon after everything was unbearable, yet unavoidable.
Kian leaned back in his chair, scrubbing a hand down his face. "Great," he muttered to himself. "Just what I needed."
---
By the time 2 PM rolled around, Kian's nerves were frayed. He had spent the morning meticulously revising the Rowland campaign presentation, determined to give Adrian no reason to criticize him. As he made his way to Adrian's office, he clutched his laptop like a shield, his knuckles white against the metal casing.
The walk felt longer than usual, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him with every step. When he finally reached the door, he hesitated, his hand hovering over the polished wood.
Kian, get a grip, he told himself. You're a professional. Act like one.
Taking a deep breath, he knocked twice before pushing the door open.
Adrian was seated behind his desk, his sharp gray eyes scanning a document. As always, he looked impeccably put-together, his suit tailored to perfection, his demeanor calm and controlled. He glanced up when Kian entered, his expression unreadable.
"Close the door," Adrian said, his voice even.
Kian obeyed, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. He moved to the desk, setting his laptop down and opening the presentation file.
"I've made significant revisions to the Rowland strategy," Kian began, his voice steady despite the nerves coiled in his stomach. "I think this version aligns more closely with their vision."
Adrian gestured for him to continue, leaning back in his chair as Kian launched into the presentation. He walked through the key points with precision, his words carefully chosen, his tone professional. But even as he spoke, he could feel Adrian's gaze on him, sharp and unrelenting.
When he finished, he straightened, meeting Adrian's eyes. "What do you think?"
For a moment, Adrian said nothing, his fingers steepled under his chin. Then he leaned forward, his expression thoughtful. "It's good. Better than the last draft."
Kian blinked, surprised by the praise. "Thank you."
"But it's still missing something," Adrian continued, his tone calm but firm. "Rowland wants bold, innovative ideas. This feels... safe."
Kian's stomach sank. "I can revise it again," he said quickly.
Adrian's lips quirked into a faint smirk. "I have no doubt you can. But the question is, are you pushing yourself because you want to improve the campaign, or because you're trying to prove something to me?"
The question hit like a punch to the gut, and Kian's jaw tightened. "I'm doing my job," he said evenly.
Adrian raised an eyebrow, his smirk fading. "Are you?"
Kian's fists clenched at his sides, anger flaring in his chest. "I don't need your psychoanalysis, Adrian. If you don't like the work, just say so."
Adrian's eyes darkened, his calm demeanor shifting. He stood, rounding the desk and stopping just a few feet away from Kian.
"This isn't about the work," Adrian said, his voice lower now. "This is about you, Kian. You're letting your emotions cloud your judgment. You're better than this."
Kian bristled, his anger bubbling over. "You don't know anything about me."
Adrian's gaze bore into him, unyielding. "Don't I?"
The tension between them crackled, thick and suffocating. Kian's breath hitched, his mind racing. He wanted to lash out, to push Adrian away, but a small part of him—the part that still reeled from the heat—hesitated.
"You're impossible," Kian said finally, his voice trembling with frustration.
Adrian's lips curved into a faint smile, though there was no humor in it. "And you're stubborn. But that's what makes you good at what you do."
Kian stared at him, his chest tight with a mix of anger and something he didn't want to name. "Is this your way of motivating me?"
Adrian's expression softened, just slightly. "This is my way of telling you to stop fighting yourself. You're capable of more than you realize, Kian. Don't let your pride hold you back."
The words struck a chord, and for a moment, Kian didn't know how to respond. He hated the way Adrian could cut through his defenses so easily, hated how the Alpha's words lingered long after the conversation ended.
"I'll revise the presentation," Kian said finally, his voice quieter now.
Adrian nodded, his gaze steady. "Good. And Kian?"
Kian paused, looking at him warily. "What?"
Adrian's smirk returned, faint but unmistakable. "Next time, don't wait for me to pull you out of the fire. You're better than that."
Kian's jaw tightened, his fists clenching. Without another word, he turned and left the office, his mind a storm of emotions.
As he walked back to his desk, Adrian's words echoed in his mind, a reminder of the cracks forming in the walls he'd spent years building.