I was speed-walking through the corridor, clutching a stack of folders against my chest like armor.
The meeting had already started. Xander hated lateness.
I'd seen him dress down a department head for arriving two minutes behind schedule, his voice cold enough to freeze the entire room.
So I practically ran this time and rounded the corner too fast.
The collision was inevitable—papers scattering like startled birds, my balance faltering, the folders slipping from my grip. I braced for impact with the floor, but it never came.
Strong hands caught my arms, steadying me. "Whoa, easy there."
I looked up into a face I didn't recognize, and for a moment, I forgot I was late for anything.
Warm hazel eyes flecked with gold, the kind that crinkled at the corners when he smiled—which he was doing now. Sandy hair that was artfully disheveled, like he'd just rolled out of bed but somehow made it look intentional and impossibly attractive.
He was handsome in a more warm charm and effortless appeal. His face had a boyish quality to it, all playful energy, but there was nothing boyish about the rest of him.
Tall and lean, with the kind of athletic build that suggested tennis matches and morning runs rather than hours in a gym. He was not wearing a jacket, his tie loosened and the top buttons of his shirt were undone just enough to hint at rebellion against corporate conformity.
When he smiled, really smiled, dimples appeared in both cheeks, and I felt something flutter unexpectedly in my chest.
He was the kind of man whose smile made you want to smile back.
"I'm so sorry," I stammered, crouching to gather the fallen papers. "I wasn't looking where I was going…"
"Don't be." He dropped down to help me, still smiling like I'd just made his day instead of nearly knocking him over. "Best thing that's happened to me all day, honestly. I'm Archie, by the way."
He handed me a stack of reports, his grin widening. Something about him felt different from everyone else here. Open, warm, utterly lacking the tension that permeated every interaction in this company.
"Daphne," I accepted the papers.
"Daphne," he repeated, like he was tasting the name. "Pretty. You work for the tyrant upstairs, don't you?"
I blinked, caught off guard. "Mr. Hale?"
Archie laughed, the sound bright and unguarded. "Is there another tyrant I should know about?"
Despite myself, despite the stress and the lateness and the constant knot of anxiety in my chest, I laughed too.
"He's not that bad," I said, though even I could hear the uncertainty in my voice.
"Give it a few more weeks. You'll see." Archie's eyes sparkled with mischief.
I found myself relaxing for the first time in days. He was funny. Easy.
I assumed he must be an employee from another department. Marketing, maybe. He had that energy—creative, personable, the kind of person who thrived on connection.
Then I glanced at my phone and panic flooded back. "I have to go. The meeting…"
Archie waved me off with exaggerated formality, bowing slightly like a courtier in a period drama. "Don't let me keep you. The tyrant waits for no one."
I rushed to the conference room, slipping inside just as Xander began speaking. His eyes flickered to me, a brief acknowledgment, a slight tightening of his jaw, but he continued without comment.
I took my seat quietly in the corner, arranging my papers, heart still pounding from the sprint.
The meeting proceeded smoothly. Quarterly projections. Partnership updates. A presentation on market expansion that made my eyes glaze over despite my best efforts.
I took diligent notes, kept my head down. Then the door opened, and a latecomer strolled in. I turned my head and froze.
It was him. Archie. Except now he was wearing the confidence of someone who belonged at this table, not in the hallway making jokes about robot sneezes.
He dropped into a chair directly across from Xander with the ease of someone who'd done this a hundred times.
Xander's expression hardened. "You're late."
"Traffic was a nightmare." Archie sighed dramatically, settling back in his chair like he owned it. “You know how it is."
My stomach flipped. That was a lie. We'd parted ways less than ten minutes ago.
My eyes darted to Archie, and he caught my gaze immediately. One corner of his mouth quirked up. He winked.
A silent request: play along.
Xander's eyes flickered between us. He'd noticed. I saw a flash of something dark crossing his features—suspicion, maybe, or something sharper. But he said nothing.
Simply turned back to the presentation and continued the meeting as if nothing had happened.
I spent the next hour hyper-aware of both men. Xander's controlled tension. Archie's casual glances in my direction, each one accompanied by a slight smile, like we shared a secret.
When the meeting finally ended, I gathered my things quickly, eager to escape the strange energy suffocating the room. I made it to the hallway before footsteps fell into pace beside me.
"So, Daphne." Archie's voice was light, teasing. "How are you finding life under Xander's iron fist?"
I laughed despite myself. "It's... demanding."
"Demanding." He snorted, falling into step beside me close enough that our shoulders almost brushed. "That's diplomatic. I would have said soul-crushing, but you're clearly nicer than me."
He glanced down at me, those hazel eyes sparkling with mischief. "And prettier. Much, much prettier than anyone else who's survived more than a week up there."
I felt heat creep into my cheeks. "I'm sure that's not true."
Archie's grin softened into something more genuine, and he tilted his head, studying me with an intensity that felt different from Xander's—warmer, more openly appreciative.
"Seriously though, if you ever need a break from the intensity up there, my office is on twelve. Open door policy. I have better coffee, and I promise to make you laugh at least three times per visit."
"Only three?"
"I'm being modest." He leaned slightly closer, and I caught a hint of his cologne—something fresh and clean, like ocean air. "Truth is, I'm hilarious."
I found myself really smiling for the first time in days. "I might take you up on that."
"Please do." He reached out and touched my arm lightly—just a brush of fingers, barely there. "You have a beautiful smile, by the way. You should do it more often."
I didn't know what to say to that. The compliment felt genuine, not practiced, and it caught me off guard.
There was something about him—something uncomplicated that felt like a breath of fresh air after weeks of tension and unspoken secrets.
"Archibald."
The cold voice cut through our conversation like a blade.
We both turned. Xander stood a few feet away, his expression unreadable but his posture rigid. His gaze moved from Archie to me, then to where Archie's hand still rested near my elbow.
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't distract my employees from their work."
Archie rolled his eyes with theatrical exasperation, but he didn't move away from me. If anything, he shifted slightly closer, and I got the distinct impression he was enjoying Xander's reaction.
"Relax. We were just talking. You know—that thing humans do? With words and facial expressions? You should try it sometime. It's quite enjoyable."
"This isn't the time."
"It's never the time with you."
Archie turned to me, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial murmur that somehow felt more intimate than it should.
"He's been like this since his youth. Total bore. Complete control freak. I keep hoping he'll lighten up, but it's been fifteen years and nothing. It's tragic, really."
My eyebrows rose. "You've known each other that long?"
"Unfortunately." Archie's grin widened, mischief dancing in his eyes. He jerked his head toward Xander. "Let him tell you the story. It's more entertaining from his perspective—all that repressed emotion."
He turned back to me, and for a moment, his playful expression softened. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear—a gesture so unexpected and intimate that my breath caught.
"See you around, Daphne," he said quietly, his eyes holding mine with unmistakable interest. "Don't forget about that coffee. I'll be counting the days."
And with that, he sauntered off, leaving me standing in the hallway with Xander's heavy gaze fixed on me like a weight. I waited for him to say something—an explanation, a warning, anything.
The silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken words, before he simply turned and walked away.
"Follow me," he said over his shoulder, and I had no choice but to obey.