The office was mostly empty by the time Paige gathered her notes, the city glittering through the glass walls like a reminder of who was still out there, all the people living lives that weren’t measured in quarterly reports.
She loosened the cuff of her blouse, just barely, when she heard a voice behind her.
“You don’t leave until the room is conquered, do you?”
She turned. Daniel. The new hire, sharp suit, sharper smile. He leaned against the door frame like the evening was made for him.
“Conquered,” she echoed, her voice cool, practiced. “Some of us just like to be thorough.”
He grinned, unbothered. “You rattled them in there. That projection? No one else was bold enough to say it, but you were right. You had them scrambling.”
Paige felt something tighten in her chest. Attraction?
No, not that. Recognition.
The gleam in his eyes wasn’t patronizing or cautious. It was hungry. He saw her precision, her bite. She felt seen in a way she hadn’t in years, maybe ever.
“Scrambling isn’t the goal,” she said, though the corner of her mouth betrayed her. “Accuracy is.”
“And power,” he added, stepping closer. “You don’t have to pretend you don’t like it. That was the most powerful thing in the room tonight. Watching you work.”
Paige looked away, out at the skyline. She told herself it was just professional respect, the kind colleagues exchanged after late nights and long hours. But deep down, a long-dormant part of her stretched awake.
The part that wanted to be seen not as a mother, not as someone’s wife, not as the safe pair of hands who always delivered, but as magnetic. Unstoppable. Desired.
Later, she’d recognize that was the night it began.
The subtle, dangerous thrill of being recognized for the parts of herself she usually kept tucked away. The parts she softened for everyone else.
Those edges had been honed long before. In a childhood that worshiped competition and excellence. Where achievement was expected, not celebrated. Even perfection barely made a ripple in her parents’ eyes.
They were as cool, cold, and polished as the marble floors of her childhood home.
Home.
That was generous.
Where she grew up had never felt like home. She hadn’t realized that until she had built one with Rowan. A life that was beautiful and steady, and beginning to feel like a cage.
Not because it wasn’t beautiful, but because it was.
Beautiful, unfamiliar.
Uncomfortable.
And here, in this moment with Daniel, she felt the first, dangerous slack of that noose.
“Good night, Daniel,” she said evenly, sliding her purse over her shoulder and brushing past him, close enough to feel the heat of his skin through her blouse.
The scent of him, so different from Rowan, filled her nose.
On the drive home, she still felt the thrill of her encounter with Daniel. It still buzzed under her skin.
The way Daniel’s dark eyes had sparkled when she’d challenged him. The way he’d seem to rise to meet her without moving at all.
So many saw her as careful or contained. Maybe even intimidating. She’d heard that word more than once used to describe her.
But Daniel hadn’t been intimidated. He’d seen her as commanding. And she’d felt the pull of being mirrored.
Paige loosened her grip on the steering wheel, exhaling through a smile she hadn’t realized she was wearing. The car smelled faintly of cedar and leather. Rowan’s scent lingered from the last time he’d driven it.
Her smile faded.
The thrill was still there, alive in her chest. But it twisted now, half heat and half guilt. She told herself it meant nothing. Just chemistry.
Admiration.
A reminder she was still capable of stirring something beyond respect.
She took the long way home, letting the traffic lights stretch out the distance between who she was expected to be and who she’d briefly remembered she could be.
By the time she turned down the familiar street lined with maples and overgrown hydrangea, the night had settled. The house waited. Perfect, symmetrical, silent.
Rowan’s truck was in the driveway. A single lamp remaining lit for her glowed in the living room window. Paige sat for a moment in the car, engine idling, the weight of the day finally catching up to her.
Then she killed the ignition, fixed her expression in the review mirror, and stepped back into the life she’d built.
Her phone buzzed in her hand as she closed the door behind her.
A message.
She didn’t look at it right away. Just stood there for a beat, her pulse catching in that quiet space between thrill and regret.
Then she set the phone face down on the counter,
and went to turn off the lamp.
New here? This is just the first part of Paige’s Story.
Continue Paige’s Story with Part 2: The Temptation.
Want to read about the woman who built a new life with Rowan? Read Mira’s Story.
Want to read about the “strong friend” Paige’s mirror helped shatter? Read Halley’s Story.
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