Page 25 of Grumpy Orc CEO

I lean back in my chair, rubbing my temples in an attempt to stave off the growing headache. Staying late is about finishing this project on time. That's what I keep telling myself.

Yet there's an uncomfortable truth lurking beneath that rationale: part of me is avoiding Jarvin during regular office hours because being around him stirs up too many confusing emotions.

With a sigh, I refocus on the screen in front of me. Numbers and data start to run together as fatigue sets in. I adjust the brightness on my monitor, trying to fight off the drowsiness threatening to overwhelm me. My fingers move swiftly over the keyboard, but each keystroke feels heavier than the last.

I hear another sound from Jarvin’s office—a low murmur that could be him talking on the phone or maybe just muttering to himself as he works through his own tasks. It's a strange comfort knowing he’s nearby, even if it complicates things for me emotionally. God everything is so conflicting.

“Just focus,” I mutter under my breath, straightening up and diving back into the work at hand. This project needs to get done, and that's what matters most right now.

When the project is finally completed, I gather my things and head to the stairwell, hoping to avoid any late-night encounters. The reality of taking twelve flights of stairs just to avoid facing my emotions is astounding.

The building is eerily quiet, the only sounds coming from the hum of the air conditioning and my own footsteps echoing down the hall. My bag feels heavier than usual, weighed down by exhaustion and the jumble of emotions I’d rather not dissect.

I reach the stairwell door and pause for a moment, taking a deep breath. The air feels cool against my skin, a welcome contrast to the stuffy office. Just as I’m about to push the door open, I hear the elevator ding open at the end of the hall.

My heart skips a beat. I glance back, and there he is—Jarvin commanding an air of confidence that seems to fill the entire corridor.

His gaze locks onto mine, and I feel a rush of heat flood my cheeks. He raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Taking the scenic route?" he asks, his tone laced with challenge.

For a moment, I consider bolting down the stairs anyway. But something in his eyes holds me in place—a determination that makes it clear he won’t let me slip away so easily. Before I can talk myself out of it, I abandon my plan and move toward the elevator, my heart pounding with every step.

As I approach, Jarvin steps aside to let me in. The small space feels even smaller with him standing so close. The doors slide shut behind us with a soft whoosh, and I can feel his eyes on me as we descend.

I keep my gaze fixed on the floor numbers ticking down above the door, trying to steady my breathing. What am I doing?

The silence stretches out between us, thick with unspoken words.

"Late night?" he finally asks, breaking the tension.

I nod, scoffing without looking at him. "Yeah. Wanted to finish that project."

"Good work," he says simply, but there’s something in his voice—an undercurrent of sincerity that catches me off guard.

"Thanks," I manage to reply, my voice barely above a whisper.

Inside the elevator, the atmosphere is thick with unspoken tension. Jarvin stands close—too close—his presence overwhelming. I can feel the heat radiating off him, and it makes my skin tingle with anxiety and something I don’t want to name.

I glance over at him, his muscular form and size filling the elevator. A fleeting impulse runs through me making me want to reach out and trace the hard ridges of his chest. Instead, I ball my fists and cast my eyes down.

He shifts slightly, and out of the corner of my eye, I see his jaw tighten. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he accuses, his tone low and bristling.

My head snaps up and I meet his eyes, accusing and something else—longing?

“I’ve been busy,” I say back, my voice sharper than I intended. The words hang in the air, brittle and defensive.

Suddenly, the elevator jolts and comes to an abrupt stop between floors, knocking me against his solid body. The lights flicker once, twice, then go out completely before dim emergency lighting kicks in.

My breath catches in my throat as the confined space amplifies the tension between us. I can feel the muscles tensing behind a suit.

“Great,” I mutter under my breath, as I straighten myself, trying to mask my fluttering heart with sarcasm. It’s easy to avoid him in the office, but here, so close, it’s as if the feelings I’m trying to deny are begging to be free.

We glance at each other, and it’s just like the first time our eyes met at the airport. My heart beats erratically against my ribs and it’s as if I can’t breathe. His gaze is intense, burning straight through me and I know he feels it too.

Jarvin shifts closer, his presence now almost suffocating in the darkened elevator. “Lucy,” he says softly but firmly, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. “We need to talk.”

I turn to face him, our eyes locking in the dim light. “About what?” My tone is defiant, but there’s a quiver in it that betrays me, a glimmer of desire thrums through me.

“About this,” he gestures between us, frustration evident in his voice. “Whatever this is.”

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