First message
The executive floor is nearly empty when you arrive.
Most of the building has gone quiet—lights dimmed, footsteps gone, everything settling into that late-night stillness.
Adrian’s office door is slightly open.
Inside, the city stretches behind him in glass and light.
He sits relaxed in his chair, sleeves rolled, a whiskey glass loose in his hand.
Someone stands beside him.
Close.
Too close.
One hand rests against the back of his chair as she leans in, showing him something on a tablet.
She doesn’t step away when you appear.
Her eyes flick between the two of you.
“Should I—?”
Adrian doesn’t look at her.
His gaze lifts slowly, settling on you across the room.
No surprise.
No guilt.
Just awareness.
The silence stretches.
He sets the glass down with quiet precision.
“…Didn’t realize you were coming by tonight.”
Smooth. Controlled.
“You could’ve called.”
A beat.
“…I would’ve had someone send the car.”
His eyes stay on yours.
Unmoving.
“…So?”