Rules of Engagement

Amara didn't sleep that night. She sat at her kitchen table until dawn, staring at the photographs spread before her like evidence at a crime scene. Every angle told the same story - two people who had forgotten to be careful for one perfect, destructive evening.

By seven AM, she had a plan. Professional distance. Flawless work. And absolutely no reaction when she saw Jace again.

The plan lasted exactly thirty-seven minutes.

"Blake." His voice cut through the morning bustle as she stepped off the elevator. "My office. Now."

She followed him through the maze of cubicles, hyperaware of every pair of eyes tracking their movement. Sterling & Associates had a zero-tolerance policy on workplace relationships - she'd seen three people terminated just last year for "inappropriate conduct." The employee handbook was crystal clear: any romantic involvement between supervisor and subordinate was grounds for immediate dismissal.

Did they know? Could they tell something had shifted between them?

Jace closed his office door and turned to face her. In the harsh fluorescent light, she could see the shadows under his eyes that matched her own.

"We need to talk about..."

"We keep this professional," she interrupted, her voice steadier than she felt. "Or we both lose. Isn't that what you said?"

He studied her for a long moment, his gray eyes searching her face. "What happened last night?"

"Nothing happened."

"Amara." The way he said her name made her chest tighten. "Your car was in the parking garage until almost midnight. Then you were back here at six-thirty. So I'll ask again - what happened?"

She'd forgotten how observant he was, how he cataloged details like a detective. It was the same intensity he brought to client presentations, the same focus that had made him the youngest partner in Sterling's history. And now it was trained on her.

"I stayed late to work on the Morrison strategy. Some of us take our responsibilities seriously."

The lie came easily, but she saw the moment he decided not to believe it. His jaw tightened, and he stepped closer. Close enough that she could smell his cologne - that expensive scent that reminded her of Saturday night, of hotel sheets and whispered confessions.

"If something is wrong, you need to tell me. This project is too important..."

"For you to let personal feelings interfere?" she finished. "Don't worry, Jace. I know exactly where your priorities lie."

The words hung between them like a blade. She watched him flinch, saw the way his hands clenched at his sides. For a moment, she thought he might reach for her, might break the careful distance they were trying to maintain.

Instead, he stepped back, his expression shuttering closed.

"Good. Then we understand each other." His voice was cold now, all business. "I want the Morrison preliminary report by Thursday."

She nodded once and turned to leave, but his voice stopped her at the door.

"And if anyone asks about Saturday night, we were never there together."

The rest of the day passed in a blur of research and caffeine. Amara threw herself into the Morrison account, but concentration felt impossible. Every time she looked up, she caught Selene Grant watching her from across the office floor. The HR director's smile was perfectly professional, but something in her eyes made Amara's skin crawl.

When she returned from lunch, her Morrison files had been moved. Just slightly - the stack turned at a different angle, papers not quite aligned the way she'd left them. She told herself she was being paranoid, but the feeling of being watched settled between her shoulder blades like a physical weight.

At four-thirty, Luca appeared at her desk with two cups of coffee and his usual grin. "You look like you haven't slept in a week."

"Just focused on the Morrison account." She accepted the coffee gratefully, noticing how Luca's eyes lingered on her face longer than usual.

"Right. The big promotion." His tone was carefully neutral, but she caught something underneath. "Working closely with Donovan now, I hear."

"It's a professional opportunity, Luca. Nothing more."

"Of course." He settled into the chair beside her desk. "It's just... you know the rumors, right? About what happened to Sarah Martinez when she worked on the Patterson campaign with him?"

Amara's blood chilled. Sarah Martinez had been a rising star, brilliant and ambitious. Last year, she'd been abruptly transferred to the Portland office. "What rumors?"

"Nothing concrete. Just that she got too close to a certain partner, and when things went south, she was the one who paid the price." Luca's voice dropped to a whisper. "Sterling & Associates protects its golden boys, Amara. Just... be careful."

By five o'clock, the office had mostly emptied. She was deep in budget calculations when her computer chimed with a meeting reminder. Strategy session with Jace. Conference Room B. She'd forgotten.

The conference room felt different at night. More intimate. The city lights twinkled beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, and she could see Jace's reflection in the glass as he spread documents across the table.

"Morrison Industries has worked with three agencies in the past five years," she began, settling into presentation mode. "Each campaign failed because they tried to make the company seem warmer, more approachable. But that's not who Morrison is."

"Go on." His voice was neutral, professional, but she caught him watching her mouth as she spoke.

"They're not your friendly neighborhood corporation. They're precision. Excellence. They're the company other companies aspire to be." She pulled up the mock-ups she'd been working on. "We don't apologize for their success. We celebrate it."

Jace leaned forward, studying her work. "This is brilliant." His fingers brushed hers as he reached for the presentation folder, and she felt that familiar spark of electricity. "But the budget projections are off."

"Where?"

He moved to stand beside her chair, close enough that she could feel the heat of his body. "Here. And here." His arm reached around her to point at the screen, and suddenly she was surrounded by him, breathing him in despite herself.

"I see it now," she whispered, but she wasn't looking at the numbers anymore. She was looking at the way his shirt stretched across his chest, at the strong line of his jaw, at the pulse point in his throat that she'd kissed just three nights ago.

"Amara." Her name was a warning, rough and low.

She turned in her chair to face him, and suddenly there were only inches between them. His eyes were dark, pupils dilated, and she could see her own desire reflected back at her.

"This is exactly what we agreed not to do," she breathed.

"I know." His hand came up to cup her cheek anyway. "But I can't stop thinking about Saturday night. About the way you looked when you..."

"Don't." She pulled back, forcing herself to remember Sarah Martinez, the employee handbook, everything she stood to lose. "Don't say it."

"Because it makes it dangerous?" She stood abruptly, putting distance between them. "We have careers to think about. Reputations. Everything we've worked for."

"And what if I don't care about any of that?"

The question hung in the air between them, loaded with possibilities and consequences. She stared at him, seeing something in his eyes she'd never seen before. Vulnerability. Hope. The possibility that maybe, just maybe, she wasn't the only one willing to risk everything.

"You should care," she said finally. "Because I do."

She was packing up her things when he spoke again.

"There's something you should know about Saturday night."

She froze, her hand on the conference room door. "What?"

"The charity gala. I only went because I knew you'd be there."

Her breath caught in her throat. "Jace..."

"I've been watching you for months, Amara. The way you work, the way you think, the way you bite your lip when you're concentrating on something that matters to you. I told myself it was just professional admiration, but I was lying to myself."

She turned to face him, saw the raw honesty in his expression. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you deserve to know that Saturday night wasn't a mistake for me. It was the first honest thing I've done in years."

Before she could respond, before she could process what he was saying, he was walking past her toward the door.

"The Morrison presentation is due Thursday," he said, his voice back to business. "Don't disappoint me."

She stood alone in the conference room for a long time after he left, her heart pounding against her ribs. Everything was changing, spinning out of control, and she couldn't decide if she was terrified or exhilarated.

The hallway was empty as she finally headed for the elevator. But as she passed the copy machine, she noticed something odd - the red light was blinking. Recording. At this hour, when the office was supposed to be empty.

Her phone buzzed with a text as the elevator doors closed around her. Unknown number.

*"Did you enjoy your late-night meeting? Some conversations are worth recording. Check your locker tomorrow."*

The blood drained from her face as she read the message. Someone had been watching. Again. And now they had something new to hold over her.

She caught her reflection in the polished steel of the elevator doors. She looked pale, shaken, like someone who'd just realized they were trapped in a game they didn't understand.

Because that's exactly what she was.