Jessica Snow rolled into her apartment at 11 p.m., the clock ticking past her usual bedtime like a cheeky rebel.
Normally, her life was a well-oiled machine—work, home, rinse, repeat, rarely straying past 10. After hours, she'd wrestle with lingering hospital paperwork, a woman on a mission who didn't give two hoots about nightlife or frivolous fun. Ambition was her fuel, not parties.
But these past two nights? Oh, they'd been a wild detour—out gallivanting with Lugh Everveil, of all people.
And here's the kicker: she wasn't exhausted. She loved it.
Their vibe clicked like puzzle pieces, zipping past "just friends" territory and flirting with something steamier—yet not quite lover-level.
A delicious in-between, teasingly close to the edge.
"Is this what falling feels like?" Jessica mused, her cheeks blooming pink as she flopped onto her couch. She barely recognized this giddy version of herself.
Her phone buzzed, snapping her out of her daze.
A quick swipe revealed a stack of missed messages from Aiselle Starlight—her ride-or-die, her soul-sister since sandbox days.
They'd trekked through school together, from finger paints to finals, a bond forged over a decade of secrets and sass.
Aiselle: Jess, I'm jetting back to see you—excited or what?
Aiselle: Hellooo? No reply?
Aiselle: Buried in work again, huh?
Aiselle: How much chaos can one hospital churn out?
Aiselle: You alive?
Jessica grinned, thumbs flying across the screen.
Jessica: Right here, drama queen!
Aiselle's reply pinged back faster than a caffeinated squirrel.
Aiselle: Thought you'd vanished into the ether! What's kept you AWOL these past two nights? Why the late comeback?
Jessica:Been hanging out with a friend.
Aiselle: A friend? Besides me, your VIP bestie, who else rates nighttime duty? Spill it…
Aiselle:Wait—don't tell me you're sneaking off with a lover! Jess, you traitor, shopping for a man behind my back? Where's my spot in your heart? (sad puppy emoji)
Jessica snorted. Leave it to Aiselle to sniff out romance from a crumb of info—classic bestie radar.
Jessica: Quit your nonsense, or I'm ghosting you! (Angry emoji)
Aiselle:Fine, fine—just name the guy, and I'll stop (pouting!)
Jessica:…
Aiselle: I'm just looking out for you! A grown woman who's never dated? You're a rookie! What if some sleaze tricks you? You'd be toast!
Jessica: Oh, like you're a love guru!
Aiselle: …
Aiselle: Okay, I haven't dated, but I've devoured hundreds of romance novels—seen it all, lived it vicariously! My scumbag detector's top-tier—I'll vet this guy for you!
Aiselle: Come on, sis, spill before I combust!
Jessica sighed, caving.
Jessica:Fine. His name's Lugh Everveil, 20 years old. We've known each other two days—friends for now, nothing official.
Aiselle:Lugh Everveil? Don't tell me it's that Lugh—the party-boy heir of Everveil Group who drowns in booze and babes?
Jessica: Yep, that's him! But he's not clueless like the rumors say…
Aiselle: Jess, have you lost it? A playboy like that? He's a walking red flag—a Casanova with a trail of exes long enough to circle the planet!
Jessica: He's not that bad! Sure, he's a little wild, but he's responsible, sweet, thoughtful. I'm happy with him—he's the Prince Charming I've been holding out for!
Aiselle:Oh, Jess, you're head-over-heels smitten!
Aiselle: He's sweet to you now 'cause he's reeling you in! That's his game—charms every girl at the club, then drops the mask post-hookup!
Aiselle:Guard your heart, woman!
Aiselle:Dump him before you're in too deep!
Jessica's thumbs hovered, her resolve unshaken.
Aiselle could rant all she wanted—Jessica trusted her gut, and it sang Lugh's praises.
Jessica:Enough—I'm calling the shots on my feelings! Night-night, sleep tight!
___
Half a world away, in a swanky apartment bathed in northern moonlight, Aiselle Starlight sprawled across her bed, fuming.
"My girl's gone love-drunk!" she huffed, tossing her phone aside.
"No matter how I warn her, she's blind to it! What's so great about that sleazy Everveil punk? A nightlife hound who guzzles and flirts—hardly boyfriend material! Ugh, he's even wedging between us!"
She bolted upright, determination blazing.
"That's it—I'm flying back pronto. I'll unmask that jerk's true colors myself!"
With a flurry, she started packing, her suitcase swallowing clothes like a hungry beast.
Mid-rant, her eye caught a dusty invitation letter on her dresser. Her gaze flickered, a sly grin tugging at her lips.
"Oh, this could be fun…"
___
Two days zipped by in a blink.
Lugh Everveil fell into a gleeful routine—daily pop-ins to gloat over Xavier Cain, still bedridden and seething, followed by swooping into Snow Enterprises to whisk Jessica off for dinner, shopping, or whatever whimsy struck.
They reveled in it, their bond blooming like a garden in spring.
One little nudge, and that flimsy "friendship" wall would crumble into full-on romance—any day now.
But on this particular morning, as Lugh lounged in his penthouse sipping coffee strong enough to wake a rock, the butler materialized like a ghost in a tux.
Trailing him was a sharp-looking woman in a blazer, her vibe screaming "I've got this."
"Young Master," the butler intoned, all stiff formality, "the boss says you're not a kid anymore—time to dip your toes into the family biz. Meet your new secretary. She's got a master's in management from Harvard, two years grinding it out at a top Wall Street bank. Sharp as a tack—ask her anything!"
Lugh blinked, coffee mug pausing mid-sip.
"Secretary? Now?"
He sized her up—polished, poised, and radiating competence.
A grin crept across his face.
"Well, well—looks like Dad's tossing me into the deep end. Alright, let's see what you've got!"