A tagged photo appeared in her notifications: a dimly lit shot of her car, taken from behind, with the caption:
Unknown: Nice ride, Tatum. Wouldn't want anything to happen to it.
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Kyle's day had started like every other—a semblance of routine keeping him grounded. The alarm clock buzzed at 6:30 a.m., dragging him out of a restless sleep. He groaned, ran a hand through his unruly hair, and shuffled to the kitchen to make his morning coffee. The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled his small apartment.
The morning jog was next, a ritual he never skipped, not even on his worst days. The crisp air and rhythmic pounding of his feet on the pavement usually helped clear his head, but today, the noise in his mind was louder than the steady beat of his steps.
By the time he got to work, he was already feeling on edge, though he couldn't pinpoint why. The office was its usual chaos—a dozen voices overlapping, phones ringing, and the clatter of keyboards filling the space. Kyle buried himself in work, managing reports and coordinating logistics, his mind buzzing with numbers and schedules.
"Mr. Kyle, do you hear me?" The sharp voice cut through his thoughts.
Kyle looked up and saw Vivienne standing in front of him, holding a big folder filled with files that suggested it was for him. The sight of her only made him more irritable.
He rolled his eyes and gestured for her to leave it on his desk as he went back to his work, refusing to acknowledge her further. But Vivienne, persistent as always, perched herself on the edge of his desk and tilted her head in mock curiosity.
"Is it about Mrs. Joy? Is she giving you a hard time?"
Kyle's jaw tightened. "Mrs. Vivienne, I would prefer you not interfere with my personal life. And for your record, not everything has to revolve around Tatum."
Vivienne's eyebrows shot up in amusement. "Tatum?" she repeated, smirking. "What's with you calling her by her name? You must be really close, huh?"
Kyle met her gaze with an angry, yet composed look. "Back off."
Before Vivienne could retort, a familiar voice interrupted them, sharp and purposeful. "If we're close, if we're enemies, I don't think it's your problem, redhead," Tatum said as she strode into the office, her steps quick and deliberate. "Kyle, come on. Mr. Black needs us."
Vivienne rolled her eyes and stomped her foot, clearly annoyed. "Why are you so quick to judge?"
Tatum stopped and turned to her with a wry grin. "What comes around goes around, love," she said with a mocking sweetness before heading out the door with Kyle.
Kyle followed her, a wave of gratitude washing over him. It was uncanny how Tatum always showed up when people needed her the most. It was like God sent her signals of when to appear, slipping in like a ninja just in time to save the day. And oh God, how he appreciated that about her.
She's like an angel dressed in a devil suit, he thought.
No wonder the curly-headed man, Aiden, loved being in her presence.
"Mrs. Joy, you have no idea how much I love you at this point," Kyle blurted out as they entered the office, catching the eye of their boss.
Tatum laughed, dropping herself into the chair next to Aiden. "I must say, Kyle, that's pretty stupid of you," she said with her signature smirk.
Aiden, clearly tense from the interaction, did his best to keep his attention on his work. But the circus in front of him was hard to ignore.
"We're heading to Italy tomorrow. Are you all prepared?" Aiden asked, his tone clipped. "Mr. Kyle, is everything done with the documents? Presentations?"
Kyle grinned, leaning casually against the desk. "All done."
Kyle leaned back in his chair, throwing Tatum a mischievous look. "You know, Mrs. Joy," he said, dragging out her title with mock formality, "it's amazing how you manage to be both terrifying and endearing. Truly a rare gift."
Tatum didn't miss a beat, propping her elbow on Aiden's desk and resting her chin on her hand. "And yet, somehow, you're still alive, Mr. Kyle. Truly a miracle."
Kyle feigned a gasp, clutching his chest. "I knew it. You do care about me."
"Care?" Tatum snorted, raising an eyebrow. "It's a long way to get there. I don't think you are ready for that."
Aiden's pen stilled mid-signature. He placed it down carefully, his knuckles whitening as he interlocked his fingers on the desk. "Are you two done?" he said, his voice calm but sharp enough to slice through their banter.
Kyle looked at him, clearly unfazed. "Almost, boss. Just giving Mrs. Joy here her daily dose of humility."
"You wish!" Tatum shot back, turning to Aiden.
Aiden's eyes narrowed, his tone dangerously even. "Considering you both work for me, I'd hope you could at least pretend to act professionally while in my office."
"Professionally?" Kyle echoed, grinning as he gestured at Tatum. "She's the one lounging in her chair like it's a throne."
Tatum tilted her head at Aiden, a sly grin creeping onto her face. "You don't mind, do you, Mr. Black?"
Tatum loved teasing Aiden. It wasn't just a habit; it was almost like a sport to her. The way his jaw tightened, the slight twitch of his brow, and the faint redness that crept up his neck—it was all so delightfully satisfying. He always tried so hard to maintain his composure, but she could see right through him.
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That night, as she leaned casually against the edge of his desk, skimming through some documents she needed for a college course, Tatum absentmindedly sucked on a lollipop. It was one of those quiet, stolen moments she cherished—until Aiden's presence turned the room electric. She caught the way his pupils dilated when their eyes met, a subtle yet unmistakable shift that sent a ripple through her. He was so visibly on edge that she almost—almost—felt sorry for him.
She tilted her head slightly, observing as he tried and failed to focus on the papers in front of him. His pen hovered uselessly above the page, his usual precision seemingly lost. The silence in the room was thick, broken only by the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock. For a moment, she thought she imagined it, but no—she could swear she could hear his heartbeat, quick and steady, matching her own.
Lost in her own thoughts, Tatum felt the ice walls she'd built around herself begin to crack, and the realization terrified her. She hated how much she cared, how fiercely protective she felt about him. Every glance, every brush of his presence reminded her of the lengths she'd go to keep him safe. It was maddening—and worse, it was undeniable.
"You're staring," Aiden said, his voice cutting through her reverie. He leaned back in his chair, the scrape of his shoes against the floor marking his approach.
Tatum blinked, shaking off her thoughts as she smirked. "I was lost in thought, yes, but I wasn't staring. Don't flatter yourself."
Aiden came closer, his hands tucked casually in his pockets, his eyes glinting with amusement. When he spoke, his voice was low and husky, tinged with a confidence that sent a shiver down her spine. "Flatter myself? Your pupils are dilated, Mrs. Joy."
She turned to face him fully, the lollipop still perched on her lips as though she were contemplating something profound. How was she supposed to think straight with him standing so close? His mere proximity scrambled her thoughts in a way she despised, yet couldn't resist.
I never felt that.
Aiden's lips curved into a slight smirk, a silent challenge in his expression.
"Yours are too. I don't think we can really debate that," she finally countered, the words slipping out as she took another deliberate lick of her lollipop.
She saw his gaze flicker, lingering on her lips for a split second before locking back onto her eyes. It was a battle of wills, one she wasn't sure she wanted to win. Then, he reached out, his fingers brushing against her wrist with a gentleness that sent her pulse racing. She froze as his touch lingered, warm and steady, before he tugged her hand toward him. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned down and took the lollipop from her fingers with his lips, his eyes never leaving hers.
The air between them crackled, thick with tension and unspoken words. Tatum swallowed hard, hating the way her breath caught in her throat, hating the way her heart betrayed her with its frantic rhythm.
Aiden pulled back, the lollipop between his teeth, a smug grin lighting up his face. "It's mine now," he declared, his tone dripping with playful arrogance.
Tatum's eyes rolled dramatically before locking onto his again, her irritation mingling with an undeniable spark of amusement. She hated sharing—food, drinks, possessions, anything. And for him to tease her like this? To steal from her? Absolutely not. She wouldn't let it slide. She always had the last word, and tonight would be no exception.
Before he could step away, she grabbed his tie, yanking him back toward her with a sharp tug. Their faces were mere inches apart now, and the smirk on his face faltered just enough to betray his surprise. The air between them crackled with tension as her piercing gaze bore into his.
"You know, Mr. Aiden, I hate sharing," she whispered, her voice low and teasing, laced with the slightest edge of threat.
The dim lighting in the room only heightened the intensity of the moment. After 6 PM, the office lights shifted into "comfort mode," casting warm, ambient glows from the corners of the room and leaving shadows to play across their faces.
Aiden twisted the lollipop between his teeth, sliding it out and holding it in his hand. His expression didn't waver, but there was something darkly amused in his eyes as he leaned forward, hands pressing against the desk on either side of her thighs, caging her in.
"You can't really blame me for taking your lollipop," he said, his voice dropping an octave as he spoke. His smirk widened as he added, "It was your mistake for letting it go so easily."
Ah, so he wanted control. How typical. Tatum tilted her head, her lips curving into a deceptively sweet smile. Her hand slid down his tie, gripping it tighter as she pulled him even closer, their lips now a breath apart. She could feel his breath against hers, hot and unsteady, and she knew she had him exactly where she wanted.
"I never make mistakes, sir," she murmured, her words a tantalizing whisper against his lips, so close they almost brushed but didn't quite touch. It wasn't a kiss; it was a dare.
The challenge hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, Aiden seemed frozen, caught between the desire to close the gap and the frustration of knowing she had the upper hand.
With a sharp move, Tatum snatched the lollipop from his hand and popped it back into her mouth, the faintest smirk playing on her lips as she pushed a hand against his chest. The contact was firm yet deliberate, a silent command as she slid off the desk and stood, her presence still dominating the space.
"Instead," she said, turning slightly, her lollipop rolling playfully between her lips, "I always win."
Aiden straightened, his smirk shifting into something deeper, something more dangerous, as he watched her walk away. His hands fell to his sides, but the tension in his body didn't dissipate. She had played him, and damn it, he found himself loving every second of it.
As Tatum reached for her phone on the desk, it buzzed in her hand. She glanced down at the screen, her smirk faltering slightly as she read the message.
Her brows furrowed slightly, and the faintest trace of concern flickered across her face. Aiden noticed. Of course, he noticed. His sharp gaze zeroed in on the screen as he leaned casually against his desk, trying to mask the irritation creeping into his expression.
"Kyle?" he asked, his voice carefully neutral, though he was tense as hell.
Tatum locked her phone and slid it into her pocket with nonchalance, meeting Aiden's curious gaze with her usual stoic calm.
"Jealous?" smirking faintly as she headed for the door. "Good night, Mr. Black," she called over her shoulder, leaving him standing there.
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When the end of the day finally came, Kyle hesitated before heading home. Something about those words kept looping in his mind, making his hands clammy as he unlocked the door to his apartment. She was already there, sitting on the couch with her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
The conversation that followed was like watching a slow-motion car crash—every word, every pause, every tear carving its way into him.
"I'm pregnant, Kyle," she started, her voice trembling.
For a fleeting moment, something warm flickered in him. He hadn't thought about starting a family—not seriously—but the idea didn't terrify him as much as it might have a few years ago.
But her next words doused that flicker in ice.
"It's not yours."
She kept talking, explaining herself, but Kyle barely registered the words. Something about wanting to be honest, wanting him to be happy, not trapped. "You don't deserve this. You don't deserve me."
By the time she left, Kyle felt hollow, like the shell of a person he used to be.
Now he sat on the couch, staring at his phone, the weight of the silence pressing down on him. He had no idea how long he'd been sitting there, replaying her words in his head. His hands shook slightly as he finally typed out a message.
Kyle: I think I'm in trouble.
He sent it before he could think twice. But it didn't feel like enough.
Kyle: I am fucked up completely.
Minutes passed like hours. He leaned back, shutting his eyes, wondering if he'd made a mistake reaching out. But then, a sharp knock at the door broke through his thoughts.
Kyle opened the door to find Tatum standing there, her expression calm but her green eyes sharp, scanning him with a knowing intensity.
"You came," he said, surprised and a little thrown off by how quickly she'd arrived.
"You called," she replied simply, stepping inside like she owned the place.
Kyle shut the door and turned to her, feeling a mix of relief and unease. Tatum didn't ask questions right away; she didn't need to. Her gaze swept over the room, taking in the half-empty coffee cup on the table, the crumpled tissues, and the untouched dinner on the counter.
"Talk," she said firmly, crossing her arms as she sat on the edge of his couch, waiting.
Kyle hesitated, but the weight of her unwavering presence broke through his defenses. He let the words spill out—halting at first, then faster, more chaotic, until everything he'd been holding in was out in the open.
Tatum listened, her expression unreadable, her silence speaking volumes. She didn't interrupt, didn't try to soften his pain with empty reassurances. She was just... there, solid and unshakable, the only anchor he had in that moment.