Chapter 139: Now It’s His Turn

Chapter 139: Chapter 139: Now It’s His Turn

The luxury hotel suite in the center of the city was quiet, except for the soft hum of the expensive air conditioning.

Zoey stood in front of the massive floor-to-ceiling window, looking out over the glittering skyline. She wore a silk robe. She held her cell phone, quickly scrolling through her schedule for tomorrow’s brand photoshoot.

Gregory Caldwell sat on the edge of the large bed behind her.

Gregory was a highly successful corporate lawyer. He was polished, wealthy, handsome, and obviously obsessed with Zoey.

But their relationship was unbalanced.

Zoey didn’t love him. She liked what their arrangement gave her. She liked the money. She liked the luxury. She liked the convenience of having a successful man who was always available exactly when she wanted him. She liked the physical satisfaction.

Gregory, however, was emotionally invested. He genuinely thought he was in a real, committed relationship. Zoey knew much better.

Gregory had arranged this expensive suite. He had ordered an elaborate dinner. Massive bouquets of white roses were already waiting in the room. He had handled every single reservation detail without her having to lift a finger.

Zoey had barely even noticed. Her attention was focused on her phone screen.

Gregory just watched her. He didn’t ask about her day. He didn’t ask how she was feeling. He was just fascinated by her appearance. He was obsessed with having Zoey Mitchell on his arm, but he didn’t actually know Zoey Mitchell at all.

Gregory poured two glasses of expensive champagne. He stood up and walked over to her, handing her a glass.

"We should go to Paris next month," Gregory suggested casually, standing close behind her.

Zoey didn’t take her eyes off her phone. She typed a quick message to her agent.

"We’ll see," Zoey murmured.

"You always say that," Gregory chuckled softly.

"Because it works," Zoey replied without missing a beat.

Gregory laughed loudly. He completely thought she was just teasing him. She wasn’t.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her bare shoulder. He pulled her phone gently out of her hand and tossed it onto a nearby table. Zoey sighed softly and turned around, letting him lead her back to the bed.

Later, Gregory rested against the pillows, smiling at her like she’d given him something precious.

Zoey was already checking her email.

That jarring contrast told the entire story of their relationship.

Gregory reached out and traced his finger along her bare spine.

"You know I could give you absolutely anything you want," Gregory said quietly.

Zoey stopped checking her email. She slowly turned her head and looked over her shoulder. She looked directly into his devoted eyes.

She didn’t say, I love you too. She didn’t say, I already have everything I want.

"I know," Zoey stated simply.

It was a cold, practical statement. It was very Zoey.

The next morning at the city newsroom was deafening chaos.

Ben sat at his desk, aggressive typing echoing in his small cubicle. The Editor-in-Chief had just dropped a massive investigative project directly onto his lap, and the deadline was completely ridiculous.

Daisy walked over, carrying her heavy camera bag. She stood next to his desk.

"You look tired," Daisy noted calmly.

"I am working," Ben muttered, his eyes glued to the screen.

"You have been working since the second I arrived an hour ago," Daisy pointed out.

"Exactly," Ben replied.

Daisy smiled slightly.

Ben noticed the smile out of the corner of his eye. His fingers paused on the keyboard for a fraction of a second. Then, he immediately looked right back at his screen. It was tiny progress, but it was progress.

"The Chief wants specific historical photos for the piece," Ben said roughly. "We need to go down to the archive room."

The newspaper’s old archive room was located in the basement. It was cramped, dusty, and incredibly quiet.

Massive metal shelves lined the small space. There were old cardboard boxes, physical files, and thousands of dusty photographs stacked everywhere.

Ben flipped through a heavy filing cabinet in the corner. Daisy stood a few feet away, adjusting the flash on her camera, preparing to take digital copies of the old documents.

Suddenly, the heavy metal door swung shut.

Click.

Neither of them paid any attention. They were both still working.

A few minutes later, Daisy finished adjusting her lens. She walked over to the door and pushed the heavy metal handle.

It didn’t move.

Daisy pushed it again. Nothing.

She turned around.

"Ben," Daisy said quietly.

"What?" Ben asked, still reading an old file.

"We’re locked in."

"No, we’re not," Ben replied automatically.

"The door isn’t opening, Ben."

"Pull harder," Ben instructed.

"I’ve pulled it three times," Daisy argued, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Then pull it correctly," Ben shot back without looking up.

Daisy stared at him. The sheer audacity of his response completely stunned her.

"Do you want to try?" Daisy challenged smoothly, stepping back.

Ben sighed heavily. He dropped his file, walked over to the door, grabbed the handle, and yanked it.

Nothing.

He yanked it again. The heavy metal handle completely refused to budge. The deadbolt had slipped into place from the outside.

Daisy slowly folded her arms.

"Congratulations," Daisy stated dryly. "We’re trapped."

This was the exact moment the forced proximity became awkward.

There was no immediate kissing. There was no instant, overwhelming sexual tension. Because these two people had massive history.

College Daisy used to chase him. Adult Daisy had stopped.

And Ben was only just now starting to realize that he did not like the fact that she had stopped.

Now, they were stuck together in a tiny, dusty room. And for the very first time in their entire lives, Daisy wasn’t desperately trying to make the situation romantic. She actually just treated him exactly like a mildly annoying coworker.

Ben was the one slowly becoming uncomfortable.

They sat down on the dusty floor in opposite corners of the small room, waiting for someone in the newsroom above to finally notice they were missing.

Daisy pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. "No signal."

Ben grabbed his phone. "Nothing down here."

Daisy leaned her head back against the metal shelf and actually laughed.

"This is embarrassing," Daisy smiled.

"For you," Ben corrected smoothly.

"How is this my fault?" Daisy demanded.

"You touched the door," Ben reasoned.

"Because you told me to!"

Daisy laughed again. It was a bright, genuine sound.

Ben looked at her sitting on the floor. He hadn’t heard that specific, unfiltered laugh directed at him in a very long time.

Daisy suddenly noticed him staring at her.

"What?" Daisy asked.

"Nothing," Ben muttered quickly, looking away.

"You’re staring."

"I’m thinking."

"That’s dangerous," Daisy teased lightly.

The old, familiar rhythm finally started returning naturally between them.

Daisy opened her large leather tote bag. She reached inside and pulled out a tall, insulated travel mug filled with hot coffee.

Ben noticed immediately.

"Is that mine?" Ben asked instantly.

Daisy looked at him. She looked down at the mug.

"No," Daisy said simply.

Ben completely paused.

"Oh," Ben said quietly.

That tiny ’Oh’ hurt him more than a paragraph of heavy emotional angst. Because college Daisy used to constantly bring him terrible coffee. Now, she didn’t even think about it.

She took a slow sip from the mug, unbothered.

A few minutes later, she got hungry. She reached back into her tote bag and pulled out a small, incredibly specific brand of peanut butter crackers.

Ben stared at the bright orange wrapper.

"You still carry those?" Ben asked in genuine surprise.

Daisy looked up, slightly taken aback. "You actually remember that?"

"I remember things," Ben muttered, leaning his head back against the shelf.

Daisy looked at him entirely differently in the dim light.

That was the exact moment. There was no kiss. There was no massive romantic confession. It was just quiet, heavy recognition.

Ben was actually remembering her.

Eventually, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway outside.

Someone was finally looking for them.

Daisy stood up quickly. The confined space forced them incredibly close together. Ben stood up at the exact same time.

He reached for the door handle. Daisy reached for it at the exact same moment.

Their hands completely collided.

They both instantly stopped.

Daisy looked up at him. Ben looked down at her.

A heavy, thick beat passed between them. The air in the tiny room suddenly felt thin.

"You can move your hand," Ben whispered roughly.

"I know," Daisy whispered back.

"You’re not."

"Neither are you."

Before anything else could happen, the door was suddenly yanked open from the outside by a confused intern.

Ben and Daisy immediately stepped apart. The interruption saved them from crossing a massive line.

They quickly walked back upstairs to the busy newsroom.

Both of them sat down at their respective desks and pretended nothing had happened in the basement. Daisy went back to editing her digital photographs. Ben went right back to aggressively typing his article.

Five minutes passed in silence.

Then, Ben stood up. He walked over and gently placed something directly on Daisy’s desk.

It was a fresh, steaming cup of dark roast coffee.

Daisy looked at the coffee. Then, she looked up at him.

"You already did this yesterday," Daisy pointed out.

"I know," Ben said.

"So why again?"

Ben kept his eyes glued to his own computer screen.

"After surviving that archive room with me," Ben stated flatly, "you earned it."

Daisy actually laughed.

And this time, staring at his computer screen, Ben finally smiled first.

Daisy picked up the warm coffee cup.

She suddenly noticed something stuck to the side of the cardboard sleeve. It was a tiny, yellow sticky note.

It wasn’t a romantic poem. It wasn’t a confession of undying love.

It just said:

Tomorrow. 8 AM. Don’t be late.

She looked across the busy newsroom. Ben was already absorbed in his work again, aggressively typing away.

Daisy smiled softly and peeled the note off the cup.

Then, her desk phone rang loudly.

It was the Editor-in-Chief.

"Daisy," the Chief barked through the receiver. "I need you officially attached to Ben’s new investigative assignment."

Daisy glanced across the room at Ben. "What assignment?"

"You’re leaving tomorrow," the Chief stated. "Three days. Out of town."

The line clicked dead.

Daisy slowly lowered the receiver.

She looked across the newsroom.

Ben was still typing, completely unaware of what had just happened.

Three days and out of town, Just the two of them?

Daisy stared at him.

This was going to be a problem.