Jace stood outside the café across the street from Morgan Enterprises, stirring his coffee even though he didn't take sugar.
He hadn't planned on being here.
Not really.
But after last night—after watching Mel walk away, after the way she looked at him like she didn't know whether to trust him or run—he couldn't sit still. Not when the pull toward her only got stronger.
He'd sent the text.
Three words.
Still thinking about you.
She hadn't replied.
And that silence made him restless.
"You're spiraling," Alex said, sipping his iced Americano beside him. "You don't even like coffee this early."
Jace didn't answer.
Alex leaned back in his chair. "You know, when you said you liked this girl, I didn't realize you meant liked liked. Like... stalking-from-a-coffee-shop liked."
Jace shot him a glare. "I'm not stalking."
Alex smirked. "No? What would you call casually watching the Morgan Enterprises entrance waiting for one specific employee to walk in?"
Jace sighed. "I just want to see her."
Alex looked at him. "You like her."
"I told you that."
"No, you really like her. This is different."
Jace didn't answer. He didn't have to.
Just then, he saw her.
Mel.
She was walking toward the building, hair tied up, wearing a deep green blouse and dark jeans with that usual no-nonsense expression on her face—and a hint of something softer. Thoughtful. Distant.
She hadn't seen him yet.
And he didn't call out to her.
Instead, he pulled a small envelope from his jacket pocket and handed it to Alex.
"What's this?"
"Can you drop that on her desk?"
Alex opened it slightly and peeked inside. "No name?"
"She'll know it's from me."
Alex arched a brow. "You're being romantic. That's disturbing."
Jace cracked a grin. "Just go."
Alex rolled his eyes but stood up and headed inside.
Jace stayed seated, watching Mel disappear through the glass doors.
He didn't need grand gestures or expensive gifts.
He just needed her to know this wasn't some game.
And inside that envelope, on a plain piece of paper, was a note in his messy handwriting:
"You've been in my head more than the boardroom agenda.
Lunch? Just us. No titles. No pressure."
Jace exhaled, leaned back in his seat, and waited.
---
Mel didn't see the envelope until she returned from the copy room.
It was sitting neatly on her desk—no name, no label, just a clean fold and sharp corners. Her stomach flipped the moment she saw it.
There was only one person it could be from.
Heart thudding, she glanced around, but no one was looking her way. Slowly, she slid into her chair and opened it.
Inside was a single piece of paper.
You've been in my head more than the boardroom agenda.
Lunch? Just us. No titles. No pressure.
No signature.
But she didn't need one.
Jace.
Of course it was him.
She bit her lip, unsure whether to smile or panic. The note was simple. No grand promises. No flashy lines. Just… him. Stripped back and honest.
And that scared her more than anything else.
Still, her fingers traced over the handwriting like it meant something more.
Maybe it did.
—
By the time noon rolled around, Mel had gone back and forth a hundred times. She should say no. It was a bad idea. A terrible idea.
But when she walked outside, he was already waiting.
Leaning against the hood of a black Jeep. Casual black shirt. Boots. That same unreadable expression on his face until he saw her—and his lips curved into a slow, almost shy smile.
"You came," he said.
Mel crossed her arms. "I'm not sure I should've."
"Yet here you are."
She sighed, shaking her head. "Where are we going?"
He opened the passenger side door. "Somewhere lowkey. You'll like it."
She hesitated for a heartbeat, then got in.
—
Twenty minutes later, they were seated at a small rooftop diner tucked above a bookstore. Warm breeze. String lights overhead. City noise just a soft murmur below.
Mel looked around. "This doesn't feel like a typical Jace Morgan choice."
"That's the point." He offered her a small smile. "I'm not trying to impress you."
She arched a brow. "Really?"
"Nope. Just trying to be real with you. You deserve that."
They ordered food—sandwiches, nothing fancy. Jace talked about music, how his dad hated the stuff he blasted from his car. He joked about Alex being a terrible wingman. She laughed more than she expected to.
But under the easy flow, there was something deeper. Quiet. Building.
Finally, Mel looked at him.
"I still don't know what this is."
He didn't pretend to misunderstand.
"It's not a game," he said quietly. "I'm not trying to mess you up. But if you're asking what I want…"
Mel held her breath.
"I want to see where this goes," Jace said. "If you'll let me."
She looked down at her plate, then back at him. "I'm scared."
"I know." He leaned forward, voice low and steady. "So am I."
And for the first time, she believed him.
He drove her back to work, then he left saying see you later