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“Olivia,” he called out without looking up, “we should go over the presentation one more time before we present.”
“Sure,” I replied, willing my voice to remain steady as I quickly got dressed in my pajamas. The anticipation of being near him made my pulse quicken.
Seated across from him at the table, I struggled to concentrate on the words and images displayed on the screen. The close proximity allowed me to catch the subtle scent of his cologne, a mixture of woodsy undertones and fresh citrus. It was intoxicating, and I found myself leaning closer, attempting to detect each individual note.
“Olivia?” Alexander’s voice broke my focus, and I glanced up to see concern etched across his face. “You here?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak for fear that my voice might betray my inner turmoil. He studied me for a moment, then set aside his laptop, giving me his full attention.
“Look,” he said gently, “I know this isn’t an ideal situation, but we need to make the best of it. And if there’s anything that’s bothering you or making you uncomfortable, please tell me.”
His openness caught me off guard, and I found myself admitting, “It’s just… hard to separate work from… everything else when we’re living in such close quarters.”
He nodded, understanding dawning in his eyes. “I agree. Perhaps we should set aside some time each evening to just… talk. About anything other than work, I mean.”
“Okay,” I replied hesitantly, unsure of where this might lead but curious nonetheless.
***
Two days had passed since our arrival, and the tension between Alexander and me had turned into something almost resembling a friendship. That night, as I sat on the plush couch with my bare feet tucked under me, I found myself sharing parts of my life that I had never spoken about before.
“Growing up, my family went through some tough times,” I began hesitantly, studying the intricate patterns on the carpet. “My dad lost his job when I was young, and it really affected all of us.”
Alexander shifted in his seat to face me, his eyes filled with compassion. “I’m sorry to hear that, Olivia. It must have been hard for you and your family.”
“Hard” was an understatement, but I nodded in agreement. “It made me grow up faster than I would have liked. I had to learn how to be strong, not just for myself but for my mom and younger sister too.”
“Your resilience is admirable,” he said, his voice low and warm. “I can see now why you’re so driven and successful in your career.”
“Thanks,” I said, blushing slightly at the compliment. “What about you? Your dad’s the founder of the company, right?”
Alexander leaned back against the couch, his hands resting on his thighs. “Yeah, he is. And he always had high expectations for me—not just academically, but also in terms of taking on responsibilities within the company. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps and eventually take over as CEO.”
“Did you ever feel pressured by that?” I asked, curious.
“Of course,” he admitted with a sigh. “But I realized that I could either let those expectations define me or use them as motivation to prove myself. That’s partly why I work so hard—to make sure I’m worthy of the position.”
As we continued talking, I found myself growing more and more comfortable in his presence, sharing stories and experiences that I had never dared to reveal before. We seemed to be connecting on a deeper level, and it felt strangely intimate.
Despite this newfound camaraderie, living with Alexander wasn’t always easy. In the mornings, his obnoxiously loud alarm jolted me awake at an ungodly hour. His rigid shower schedule meant I could never get back to sleep, the sound of the water running and the bathroom door opening and closing only adding to my annoyance.
“Alexander,” I snapped one morning as I stumbled out of the bed, hair disheveled and eyes bleary from lack of sleep. “Can you please be more considerate with your alarm? It’s waking me up every day, and I’m exhausted.”
He looked surprised, caught off guard by my outburst. “I’m sorry, Olivia. I didn’t realize it was bothering you so much. I’ll try to be quieter in the mornings.”
“Thank you,” I grumbled before retreating back into bed, hoping for a few more precious minutes of rest.
As another day went by, we attempted to navigate our shared space with mutual respect. Even though it wasn’t perfect, and there were still moments when we irritated each other, I couldn’t deny that there was an undeniable chemistry developing between us—one that I couldn’t help but be drawn to no matter how hard I tried to push it away.
But Alexander made it easy at times. Like when I came into the bedroom after breakfast, having just gotten dressed for the day before eating.
“Olivia,” he snapped, eyeing the pile of clothes on the chair I tried on and discarded, “can you please put your things away? It looks like a tornado swept through here.”
I wasn’t sure why him bossing me around in my personal life irked me, but I felt my blood boil at his comment. “You’re not my father, Alexander. I’ll clean up when I feel like it.”
“Fine.” His tone was curt, the tension between us thickening like molasses.
We went back and forth like this, building both a friendship and animosity between us. Underneath it all, that chemistry was making it worse, and every moment I got closer to him was matched with another where we were at each other’s throats. It was almost like a balance.
