Emma's fingers trembled as she unfolded the cream-colored stationery. Daniel's bold script leapt off the page: "My penthouse. 8 PM. Don't overthink it."
She nearly dropped her coffee. Last night's kiss under the gala's twinkle lights had been earth-shattering—but this? A private meeting?
"Problem, Miss Carter?" Daniel's voice rumbled behind her.
Emma spun, clutching the note to her chest. His crisp navy suit and knowing smirk made her pulse spike. "Just reviewing your schedule, sir."
He plucked a pen from her desk, his knuckles grazing hers. A jolt shot up her arm. "Clear my evening," he murmured. "Permanently."
As he strode away, the office buzzed with whispers. His usual aloofness had cracks now—lingering glances, "accidental" touches. Even the barista downstairs winked when Emma ordered Daniel's usual black coffee.
At 7:58 PM, she stood outside his penthouse, heart hammering. The door swung open before she could knock.
Daniel leaned against the frame, tie loose, sleeves rolled up. "You're late."
Emma checked her watch. "It's 7:59."
He pulled her inside. "Exactly." The door clicked shut behind them.