The next morning, Anna arrived at the office still thinking about yesterday. Vincent had been… different. Softer, almost considerate, yet still holding that sharp edge that made him so intimidating. She shook her head. She wasn't supposed to notice these things. She wasn't supposed to let herself care. But as she walked past his office, she caught him glancing at her again, and that tiny flicker of attention made her chest tighten.
Mid-morning, the sound of heels clicking on the polished floor made Anna look up. Sheila.
Anna froze. It had been weeks since they last met, and now here she was, standing in the middle of Vincent's office building, exuding the same confidence she always had. Anna remembered their last encounter vaguely—a tense dinner party where words had been exchanged and glances had lingered too long. Sheila had always seemed sharp, observant, and impossible to fool. And Anna had a feeling that nothing had changed.
"Anna," Sheila said, her voice smooth but edged with curiosity, "I didn't expect to see you here."
Anna forced a polite smile. "Sheila… hi. I work for Vincent, of course."
Sheila's eyes flicked toward Vincent's office, catching sight of him behind the glass wall, reviewing documents. His stern expression softened ever so slightly when he noticed Sheila. Anna's stomach twisted. Sheila's gaze returned to her, and in that single look, Anna understood: Sheila knew. Knew everything. She wasn't just here for a casual visit.
"I see," Sheila said, tilting her head. "Still pretending, huh? Still playing the girlfriend?"
Anna's heart sank. She had hoped to avoid this confrontation, hoped Sheila wouldn't notice the cracks in her carefully maintained facade. "It's not… fake," she said cautiously, knowing that arguing would be pointless.
Sheila smirked. "Oh, sweetheart. I know you're not really his girlfriend. I've known Vincent too long to be fooled by a few rehearsed smiles and staged dates. But I do wonder… do you think he cares about you at all?"
Anna's hands clenched at her sides. How could Sheila be so… blunt? But part of her couldn't deny the sting. It wasn't just Sheila's words—it was the truth hidden in them. Vincent had been showing her care lately, but was it real or just another part of the act?
Before Anna could respond, Vincent emerged from his office. His sharp eyes immediately noticed the tension. "Sheila," he said, coolly, his usual tone regaining control, "what brings you here?"
Sheila smiled knowingly. "Just checking in on old friends… and curious about the new one." She didn't even hide the glance toward Anna, and Anna felt her blood run cold.
Vincent's jaw tightened, and Anna could see the subtle shift in him—the protective edge she had noticed before was flaring now. "I'm busy," he said curtly. "If you need something, make it quick."
Anna stood awkwardly between them, feeling smaller than she ever had. She could sense Sheila's smirk, the satisfaction in her knowing glance, and it made her nervous in a way she wasn't used to. She had expected confrontation from Sheila, but not… this. Not this quiet, poised, almost predatory confidence.
"I just wanted to say hello," Sheila continued, her tone deceptively light. "And make sure Vincent is treating you… well."
Vincent's hand brushed Anna's shoulder briefly—a small, almost imperceptible gesture, but it made Anna's heart jump. The warmth from him was unmistakable. Sheila noticed it too, and her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, a silent challenge in her gaze.
Anna's mind raced. She didn't want Sheila to see how flustered she felt, didn't want her to think she was weak. But the moment was fragile, delicate, and every glance from Vincent or Sheila made it feel like walking on a wire.
Sheila finally nodded, as if satisfied with the tension she had created. "I'll leave you two to your work," she said. But before she walked away, she leaned just a little closer to Anna. "Remember, appearances can be deceiving. Don't get too comfortable."
Vincent's eyes followed Sheila until she left, and then he turned to Anna, his expression unreadable. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, the edge of concern breaking through his usual sternness.
Anna swallowed, forcing herself to smile. "I… I'm fine." But her heart was still racing, and she could feel her cheeks warming.
Vincent didn't push her further. Instead, he walked back toward his office, leaving a faint trace of his presence lingering in the air—a mix of authority and something gentler, something Anna hadn't expected from him before.
As she sat down, Anna's thoughts swirled. Sheila's visit had shaken her, but in a strange way, it had also highlighted her feelings for Vincent. Each small act of care he had shown her yesterday and this morning suddenly seemed more significant. Every glance, every gesture, every moment of concern—it wasn't just professional. She couldn't deny it anymore: she liked him. She wanted him.
But the challenge Sheila posed, the reminder that their relationship was fragile, that it could be seen as fake by outsiders, made the desire burn hotter. It wasn't just about Vincent's gestures anymore—it was about proving, to herself and perhaps to Sheila, that her feelings were real, that she mattered to him in a way that went beyond appearances.
Vincent, meanwhile, sat back in his office, thinking about the encounter with Sheila. Her presence had sparked something protective in him, a reminder of his past but also of the new connection he was beginning to feel with Anna. He couldn't ignore it anymore—her reactions, her nervousness, the way she seemed to notice every small detail of him that most people missed.
He wasn't sure when it had started, or why it mattered so much, but he knew one thing: the rude, distant Vincent that Anna knew wasn't entirely gone—but another part of him, the part that cared and noticed, was starting to surface. And he was beginning to wonder if she was seeing him more clearly than anyone else had in years.
Anna glanced at his office again, catching him looking back at her. For a split second, their eyes met, and the world outside seemed to vanish. Her pulse raced, her mind tangled between fear, desire, and the thrill of the unknown. She had no idea how this would unfold, but one thing was certain—her feelings for Vincent were no longer a secret, even to herself.
And Sheila? She was a reminder that love wasn't simple, that hearts were fragile, and that jealousy could strike even the calmest moments like lightning. Anna took a deep breath, steeling herself. She wouldn't back down—not from Vincent, not from Sheila, not from the tangled emotions that were quickly consuming her.
This was just the beginning.