Chapter Ten: Sparks, Stumbles & Silent Questions

The morning sun filtered softly through the tall glass windows of Westwood Enterprises, casting long shadows on the polished floors. Tuesday had arrived quietly, but the undercurrent of awkwardness was anything but.

Aria sat at her desk, her fingers hovering over the keyboard but her mind miles away. She replayed the collision from yesterday — the way Adrian had stumbled, that brief flash of pain in his eyes, and the carefully hidden softness she thought she'd glimpsed before he masked it behind his usual polished calm.

She sighed, pushing her hair behind her ear, trying to focus on the spreadsheet glaring back at her screen. But the numbers blurred as she wrestled with a strange fluttering in her chest — one she didn't understand and wasn't ready to name.

Meanwhile, in his sleek glass office, Adrian Westwood leaned back in his leather chair, eyes closed, headphones on, letting the delicate strains of Chopin's Nocturne fill the room. It was his refuge, a place untouched by the chaos that Aria seemed to bring with her at every turn.

A knock interrupted his solitude. "Sir, your mother is here," his assistant Zara announced with a knowing smile.

Adrian pulled off his headphones and straightened. "Send her in."

Moments later, Eleanor Westwood entered, impeccably dressed in a soft lavender blouse and tailored skirt. Her silver hair was perfectly styled, and her serene smile belied the sharp mind behind those blue eyes.

"Adrian," she said warmly, "I heard about the… incidents. Are you alright?"

He gave a faint smile. "Nothing I can't handle, Mother."

Eleanor studied him thoughtfully. "You work too hard. You need balance."

Adrian's eyes flicked toward the door. "That's what the weekend is for."

She chuckled softly. "And what about your social life? You never bring anyone home."

He shrugged, the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "There's no one to bring."

Eleanor's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Don't be so sure, dear. Sometimes love sneaks in when you least expect it."

Back at her desk, Aria's phone buzzed. A message from Gramps: "Dinner tonight. We need to talk about these 'feelings' of yours."

She smiled, grateful for his gentle teasing and unshakable support.

Later that afternoon, during a quick break in the conference room, Adrian's best friend Darian burst in with his usual grin.

"Dude, you've been acting weird all day. Spill it."

Adrian sighed, rubbing his temple. "It's… complicated."

Darian raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you say that?"

Adrian smirked. "Since now."

"Alright, let me guess," Darian said, folding his arms. "It's about her, isn't it?"

Adrian's face flushed slightly. "Maybe."

Darian laughed. "Welcome to the chaos, man."

Meanwhile, Aria tried to bury her feelings under a mountain of work, but every glance toward Adrian's office made her heart pound a little faster. She was utterly confused, unsure whether to be annoyed, intrigued, or terrified of what these new emotions meant.

That evening, as Aria arrived at Gramps' mansion, she was greeted by his usual booming laughter and a dinner table laden with food.

"Tell me everything," he demanded, pouring her a glass of lemonade.

She hesitated, then confessed, "I think… I don't know. Maybe I'm starting to care about him. But it's so frustrating! He's so… different."

Gramps nodded knowingly. "Love often comes disguised as frustration."

She smiled. "You make it sound so simple."

"Simple?" He laughed. "No. But worth every mess."

At the same time, Adrian lay awake in his penthouse, the city lights sparkling below like a constellation of possibilities. He thought about Eleanor's words and about Aria — the unpredictable whirlwind who'd stormed into his carefully ordered life and left everything up in the air.

For now, neither could fully understand the growing connection between them. But those first sparks — awkward, confusing, and fragile — were undeniable.