Maya entered the office around mid-morning, balancing a brown paper bag and a folder of notes she'd written about the event for her report. She was grateful Mr. steel had dropped her off at home first. She'd had time to shower, change, and even rest a little.

Her hair was still a bit frizzy from the dampness in the air, and her cheeks were tinged pink—whether from the brisk walk or her nerves, she wasn't sure. She took a deep breath before stepping into the familiar quiet of the building. The soft hum of computers and the low murmur of distant conversations offered a kind of background calm she was slowly getting used to.

But the moment she reached the executive floor, everything shifted. The atmosphere was still and reverent, and Richard Steel's presence, though unseen, loomed like a shadow through the walls.

He hadn't spoken much during the car ride. His responses were clipped but not unkind. She'd been too nervous to say much herself, replaying her failed attempts to act professionally. Still, he'd driven her home. That was... considerate. Or maybe she was reading too much into it. Again.

She sat at her desk and began sorting through the notes from the event, organizing them with extra care. As she flipped through one of the documents, her eyes drifted toward the closed office door.

He was in there, the man that stood between her and possible banishment, she really couldn't mess this up.

She shook her head and stood to make his coffee. Black. 193 degrees. No sugar. No cream. Just the way he liked it.

By the time she knocked and entered his office, her hands were trembling.

She knocked twice.

"Come in," came his deep, even voice.

Maya pushed the door open, slipping inside like she was entering a museum she wasn't qualified to clean. Richard sat behind his desk, surrounded by sharp lines and calm silence. He glanced up. Just once. And that glance made her legs want to fold.

"I brought your coffee, sir," she said.

She crossed the room and placed the mug carefully on the coaster at his side. But just as she moved her hand back, he reached for it, and their fingers brushed.

It was light. Barely a graze.

But it happened.

Her breath caught — not because of pain, not because of cold, just... nerves. Her thoughts started racing. Had he noticed her hand tremble?

Why did she always feel so out of place in this office?

"Thank you," he said, voice unreadable.

She nodded quickly and stepped away. "I'll be at my desk."

He said nothing more. But as she turned to leave, his eyes followed her longer than necessary.

At her desk, Maya pulled out the notes from the event and tried her best to focus. She corrected typos, rewrote clumsy sentences, and tried not to let her thoughts wander back to the ballroom, the dancing, or the way he had looked at her with that unreadable expression.

Everything with him felt like "walking a dangerous tightrope," and it made her chest twist like a wet towel being wrung out.

She ran a hand through her hair and gave herself a mental shake. She was supposed to be professional. After yesterday's mess, she'd promised herself to stay grounded. No more spiraling.

She wasn't here to fall apart, couldn't afford to.

_________

Later that afternoon, Maya headed to the lounge to warm up lunch provided by the company. She stood at the microwave, watching it rotate her container of rice and vegetables, when the door creaked open.

Richard stepped in.

She blinked, surprised.

"Sir?"

He gave her a small nod. "Didn't realize anyone was in here." He said.

"I was just heating up my lunch sir." she said nervously as she held up the plastic container like it was proof.

Richard gave a nod of approval and stepped toward the coffee machine, paused, and reached for the empty pot. His movements were slower than usual.

"I can do that," Maya said, already walking toward him. "You usually don't—um—make your own."

His eyes flicked to hers, unreadable again. "I don't mind."

But he let her take the carafe anyway.

Their hands met again — brief contact, skin to skin.

Nothing happened.

To Maya, it was just a moment — awkward and fleeting. She focused on pouring the water and pressing the buttons. She filled his mug and handed it to him with a small smile, careful not to spill.

Their fingers touched a third time.

Still nothing.

Maya was happy with herself for not messing that up, at least she didn't spill it or worse, pour it on him, that would definitely get her fired.

But Richard was still watching her.

There was no confusion on her face. No discomfort. Just that slightly sheepish, well-meaning expression, she even looked almost happy.

He accepted the mug and said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome, sir."

He lingered. Not speaking. Not sipping. Just watching her.

Richard nodded once and left the room.

Back in his office, Richard stood by the window, untouched coffee in hand. The sky outside was clouded, casting grey light over the city below.

Three times, He had intentionally allowed contact.

Not even a shiver.

He had paid close attention, subtle as always. There had been no shift in her breathing, no change in skin tone. No trembling hands. No distant eyes or sudden paleness.

She didn't feel anything.

And that surely wasn't possible.

His curse — his very presence — was supposed to affect humans. Slowly. Unforgivingly.

But she was unchanged.

Not even a chill.

Was she immune to him?

Was he weaker?

Was she just a stronger human?

So many questions rushed through Richard's mind, he didn't understand it. Not yet. But he would.

There was something different about what was happening and for the first time in a long time, Richard's mind was focused on a human being.

Meanwhile, Maya sat at her desk, scarfing down lukewarm rice and thinking only one thing:

Don't drop soy sauce on the event report.

She had no idea the man down the hall was slowly losing his certainty about everything he thought he knew.