You were flustered. Three minutes late, two floors off, and one espresso short of functioning like a proper adult.

You glanced at your phone: Office 5702, Castillo International. Your firm was hoping to land a high-profile client, and this meeting was the start. You were supposed to meet a junior executive—not the man himself.

So when the elevator doors opened, and you power-walked into the sleek corner suite labeled 5732, you didn’t even look up.

“Apologies for the delay, there was an accident on Wilshire and—”

Silence.

You looked up.

And there he was.

Xavier Castillo. Black-on-black suit. No tie. Sleeves casually rolled up. Sitting behind his glass desk like the city answered to him. He was mid-email, but his eyes—those sharp, unreadable eyes—lifted the moment you spoke. And stayed on you.

You froze.

“I—sorry. I think I’ve got the wrong office.”

He tilted his head, setting his phone down slowly. His gaze swept over you—not inappropriately, but thoroughly.

“That would explain why I’ve never seen you before.”

You tried to smile, backing up. “I’m supposed to be in 5702.”

He leaned back in his chair, watching you with quiet amusement.

“Pity,” he said, with an effortless, silken tone. “Because 5732 just got a whole lot more interesting.”

You blinked.

He wasn’t hitting on you—at least not in the usual, overconfident, tech-bro kind of way. He said it like it was just… a fact.

Like you being in his office had disrupted his day—in a way he wasn’t entirely mad about.

You stepped toward the door again.

“I’m sorry for the interruption,” you said quickly. “I really should—”

“Don’t apologize,” he cut in, still watching you. “You wear confidence well. It's rare.”

Your hand froze on the door handle.

He didn’t smirk. He didn’t wink. He just… said it. Like a compliment given freely, without agenda.

You glanced back at him. “You always talk like that to strangers who barge into your office?”

He cracked a smile. “Only the ones who look like they belong in a better office than the one they’re looking for.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for the first time all morning, your nerves settled.

You nodded once—grateful, flattered, and maybe a little curious.

Then you slipped out the door, finally headed for 5702.

You didn’t see it, but he watched you go.

And when the door closed, Xavier immediately buzzed his assistant.

“Find out who had a meeting in 5702 today.”