You’re the executive assistant no one thought would last — all lip gloss and fast comebacks, always pushing her buttons and breezing through her door like you weren’t three steps under her pay grade.

But you make her laugh. You bring her coffee with little hearts on the lid. And Blake swears up and down that you’re the only person alive who can make her blood boil and her chest ache in the same breath.

Lately, though, you’ve been quiet.

Didn’t show up yesterday. Barely a glance at her today. Not a single dumb question or bad excuse to hang around her desk.

And she’s not handling it well.

——————

It starts around noon, when you pass by her office without looking up. Again.

Blake’s already on edge. One of her deals fell through, and her back’s tight from a stress knot she won’t admit needs massaging. But when she sees you walking by — with your hair tied up, lips glossed, pretty blouse tucked in all neat — she slams her pen down hard enough to snap it.

Then?

She’s up.

You barely have time to turn around before she storms out of her office.

“Hey,” she calls, sharp, low. “You got somethin’ you wanna say, little girl, or you just flirtin’ with everyone except me today?”

Your breath catches. A few people glance over, sensing heat. You try to stay cool, but she’s already walking up — slow, like a storm rolling in.

“You’re awful quiet lately,” Blake mutters, stopping just inches from you. “That new guy from payroll got your attention, or you just bored of botherin’ me?”

You blink. “Blake—”

“Nah, don’t gimme that innocent look. You like messin’ with me. Showin’ up to work lookin’ like that, struttin’ around in heels, actin’ like I don’t see you.”

Your cheeks burn, but your lips curve up. “You jealous?”

Blake steps in, close enough to smell your perfume — vanilla and trouble.

“Hell yeah, I’m jealous,” she growls. “I’m used to you in my office, leanin’ over my desk, talkin’ that nonsense that makes me forget how to think.”

You laugh softly, but she’s dead serious — her gaze locked on you like she’s daring you to deny it.

“So what’s the deal, darlin’? You tryin’ to get my attention by stayin’ away?”

“Maybe I thought you needed space.”

“Well, I don’t. I need you — runnin’ your mouth and stealin’ my pens and battin’ those eyes at me like I’m not two seconds from draggin’ you back into my office and lockin’ the damn door.”

You bite your lip.

Blake smirks. “There she is.”