Page 10 of Ardent Desires

By the third night, I’m almost looking forward to these late hours with her.

The office is quiet, Lena’s gone for the day, and it’s just Ellie and me in the conference room. She’s leaning over the table, going over one of the marketing strategies, and I’m trying not to get distracted by the way her blouse fits just a little too perfectly.

“Okay,” she says, pushing a sheet of paper toward me. “Here’s what I’ve been thinking for the launch campaign. We need something that doesn’t just scream ‘luxury,’ but also whispers ‘experience.’ Something that makes people feel like they’re getting more than just a vacation—they’re getting a story.”

I lean back, watching her as she talks. The passion in her voice, the way she gestures with her hands, the way she’s fully immersed in this project—it’s captivating.

“Go on,” I say, my tone more relaxed than usual.

“We highlight local artists, get partnerships with Michelin-star chefs from the area, create exclusive, one-of-a-kind events that make guests feel like insiders,” she continues, her voice picking up speed. “It’s about creating something they can’t get anywhere else. It’s about making themfeelsomething.”

I watch her, nodding slowly. She’s not just smart. She’s driven. And she’s got ideas that could take this project to a whole new level.

“You’re good at this,” I say, surprising myself with the compliment.

She stops, mid-sentence, her cheeks flushing again. “Thanks,” she says quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve worked hard.”

I smirk. “I can tell.”

There’s a pause. The air between us feels charged, and for a second, I almost forget we’re in a conference room. I clear my throat, pushing the thought aside. This is work. Just work.

But the more time I spend with her, the more I realize I’m enjoying her company. Not just her ideas, buther. And that’s dangerous.

Later that evening, as we’re packing up, I glance at her again. “You’re doing good work, Ellie.”

She looks up, surprised. “Thanks, Mr. Blackwood.”

“Call me Alexander.”

Her eyes widen before she whispers. “Alexander.”

I nod, but something in her voice makes me pause. It’s the way she says my name. Like it means something more. Like she’s letting herself get comfortable with me.

I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not.

As she heads out of the office, I watch her go, my mind already drifting back to the meetings, the proposals, the deadlines. But somewhere, in the back of my head, I’m thinking about those late nights. About the way she challenges me, pushes me.

And the more time I spend with her, the more I’m starting to realize... Ilikeit.

* * *

The rain’s coming down hard outside, pounding against the windows like it’s got a personal vendetta. Typical New Yorkstorm—loud, messy, and inconvenient. We’ve been at it for hours now, going over the project again, making adjustments to the marketing strategy, the budget, the launch timeline. It’s late, and we’re the only ones left in the office. I glance at the clock on my laptop screen. Past midnight.

And of course, right on cue, the lights flicker once, twice, then go out.

“Great,” I mutter under my breath. The storm must’ve knocked out the power.

Ellie’s across the table, sitting with a file open in front of her, and in the dim emergency lighting, I can barely make out her face. “Well, this is cozy,” she says, trying to make a joke out of it, but there’s a nervous edge to her voice.

I pull out my phone, but there’s no service. “Looks like we’re stuck here for a while.”

She shifts in her seat. “I thought the building had a backup generator?”

“Apparently, it doesn’t kick in for a while,” I say, leaning back in my chair. I’m more annoyed than anything, but there’s something about the quiet of the office, the way the storm outside has drowned out all the usual noise, that makes the air feel... charged.

Ellie tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, her fingers moving in that unconscious way she always does when she’s thinking. It’s dark enough that I can’t see her clearly, but I can feel her presence. There’s something about the way she’s sitting there, like she’s waiting for something to happen.

“So,” she says after a pause, “I was wondering... why this project? I mean, you’re known for tech, right? You’ve built an empire around AI and smart infrastructure, but this—this luxury resort thing—it’s different. Why go after the French Riviera?”

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