5. Leslie The First Crack
Leslie: The First Crack
I stay late at the office again, eyes glued to my laptop as the words blur together.
It’s been like this for days—meetings, drafts, endless revisions. I’ve barely had time to breathe, let alone eat. When the clock hits seven, I finally close the laptop. My shoulders are aching from hunching all day.
I should go home. But the thought of my empty apartment feels heavier than the exhaustion clinging to my bones.
I grab my bag, deciding to take a walk instead. Maybe some fresh air will clear my head. Or at least keep me from collapsing on my couch the second I walk through the door.
As I step outside, Amanda’s voice flashes through my mind, a quiet echo as I walk down Kyle's staircase. "You’re smart, Leslie. Just be careful where you step."
She’d said it casually, like an offhand remark, but something about the way she looked at me made it feel like more. Like a warning wrapped in pleasantries.
I shake it off and keep walking, watching as the city buzzes with life even as the sun dips below the skyline.
My feet carry me to a street I’ve never noticed before, lined with small boutiques and cafés. One in particular catches my eye—a cozy little place with soft yellow lights glowing through the windows.
Without thinking, I push the door open, and immediately, I'm greeted by the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee and something sweet, maybe cinnamon.
It’s warm inside, a welcome contrast to the crisp evening air. A handful of people are scattered around, mostly lost in their laptops or books. It’s quiet, intimate. Exactly what I need.
I order a latte and find a seat by the window, sinking into the plush armchair.
The cushions practically swallow me whole, but I don’t mind. It feels safe. I take a long sip of my drink, letting the warmth spread through me, easing some of the tension from my body.
My eyes drift to the window as I watch strangers pass by, their faces illuminated by street lamps. A couple walks by, laughing and holding hands.
I look away, a dull ache rising in my chest. I haven’t had that kind of connection in . . . well, longer than I care to admit.
I push the thought away and stare at the foam in my cup. I came here to clear my mind, not to feel sorry for myself. But just as I start to relax, the door opens, and the bell above it rings softly.
I don’t look up. Not until a shadow falls over my table.
“First you took my parking spot, now you take my table too?”
My eyes shoot up and meet Kyle’s surprised stare.
His suit jacket hangs open, his tie loosened just enough to be considered casual. But his posture is stiff, shoulders squared, jaw tight. He looks . . . exhausted. But that doesn’t soften the sharpness in his gaze as he looks at me, like I’ve personally offended him by existing.
“What are you doing here?” His eyes flick to the empty cup on my table before landing back on me.
I straighten, trying to match his intensity. “I was just . . . having coffee.”
“At my table?” His eyebrow arches, his tone accusing.
I blink, glancing at the chair I’m in. “Your table? No one told me this table was reserved.”
He lets out a harsh breath, his fingers raking through his hair. “I come here every Monday, and I sit at this exact spot.”
I open my mouth, then close it. What are the odds? Out of all the cafés in this city, I had to pick this one on this night.
“I didn’t know it's your table, this is my first time here,” I say, my voice softening. “I was just . . . tired. Needed a break.”
His shoulders relax just a fraction, his eyes flicking over me, searching. Finally, he sighs, his fingers tapping the back of the empty chair across from me. “Mind if I sit?”
I hesitate, caught off guard by the request. But he looks . . . worn out, like he’s been carrying the weight of the world all day.
“Go ahead.” I gesture to the chair, watching as he sinks into it, his posture stiff even as he tries to relax.
He waves at the server, who brings his drink without him saying a word. Just like he said—it’s his routine. A hot cup of tea shows up with the smell of chamomile filling the space between us.
I raise an eyebrow, unable to hide my surprise. “Tea?”
His eyes flick to me, a hint of challenge in his gaze. “Something wrong with that?”
“No,” I answer quickly, hiding my smile behind my cup. “Just . . . didn’t expect it.”
He watches me for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Coffee makes me jittery. I prefer to stay in control.”
Of course he does. It fits him—composed, calculated Kyle Donovan. But something about him tonight is . . . off. His shoulders are too tense, his eyes clouded with something heavy.
Silence stretches between us, broken only by the soft hum of music from the café speakers. I should say something, but I don’t know what. This is the most we’ve spoken without some kind of argument.
He clears his throat, his fingers tracing the rim of his cup. “Chloe liked the makeup.”
I blink, caught off guard. “Really?”
He nods, his gaze dropping to the table. “She . . . doesn’t open up to her mom and me easily. But she hasn’t stopped talking about you since Saturday.”
A warmth spreads through my chest, unexpected and sweet. “She’s a great kid.”
His jaw tightens, a muscle ticking below his cheekbone. “Yeah . . . she is.” He hesitates, his eyes flicking up to mine. “Thanks. For . . . you know, being kind to her.”
For a moment, I see past the CEO, past the icy exterior. Just a father, worried about his daughter.
“You don’t have to thank me,” I say softly. “I enjoyed spending time with her.”
His shoulders relax a little, his fingers curling around his cup. “She needs good influence. Her mother’s . . . not exactly the best role model.”
I tread carefully, not wanting to push too far. “It must be hard. Balancing everything.”
His eyes darken, his gaze fixed on his tea. “It’s exhausting. But it’s my responsibility. They didn’t ask for this . . . chaos.”
I swallow, the vulnerability in his voice catching me off guard. I’ve never heard him like this before. So raw. So . . . human.
“You’re doing your best,” I offer, not sure what else to say. “That’s all anyone can do.”
He looks at me then, his eyes softer than I’ve ever seen them. “Sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough.”
My heart twists, an unexpected ache. It’s easy to forget that underneath the power suits and sharp words, he’s just a man trying to keep his world from falling apart.
Silence wraps around us, the hum of the café fading into the background. His fingers drum against his cup, his jaw tightening and relaxing as if he’s holding back words he can’t quite say.
I take a slow breath, my heart beating a little too fast. “You’re a good father, Kyle.”
His eyes snap to mine, surprise flickering in their depths. “You don’t know that.”
I lean forward, my elbows resting on the table. “You’re there for her. You care. That’s more than a lot of people can say.”
He looks away, his shoulders tensing. “Caring doesn’t fix everything.”
I pause, noticing his grip tighten on his cup. He looks tired, dark circles under his eyes, and his voice sounds heavy. It stirs something inside me.
Without thinking, I reach across the table, my hand resting on his. “You’re doing more than you think.”
His head jerks up, eyes locking onto mine. I should pull my hand back, break the connection before it turns into something I can’t control. But his fingers curl under mine, holding me there, his skin warm against my cold fingers.
The air shifts and the space between us starts to shrink. His gaze drops to our hands, then back to my face, his eyes searching, questioning. I can’t breathe, my heart pounding so loud I’m sure he can hear it.
“Leslie . . .” His voice is low, almost a whisper, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. It’s such a small touch, but it sends a shiver up my spine.
I don’t move. I can’t. I’m trapped in his gaze, lost in the way his face softens, his walls cracking right before my eyes. He leans in, just a little, his eyes flicking to my lips.
My breath catches, my heart slamming against my ribs. Is he going to—
He pulls back suddenly, his hand dropping away as if it burns him. His jaw tightens, his shoulders becoming stiff. “I should go.”
The words are sharp, breaking the spell. I blink, my mind struggling to catch up. “Right. Of course.”
He’s already standing, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. “I shouldn’t have—” He stops himself, his eyes flicking to mine, filled with something I can’t read. Regret? Longing? I don’t know.
Without another word, he turns and walks out, his shoulders tense, his steps quick. The door closes behind him, the bell rings softly.
I sit there, my hand still resting on the table, the warmth of his touch lingering on my skin. My heart won’t slow down, my mind spinning with what almost happened.
I press my fingers to my lips, my skin is tingling, and an electrical current is still buzzing through me. Did I imagine it? The way his eyes softened, the way his breath hitched when I touched him?
No. That was real. And it was dangerous.
I let out a shaky breath, my chest tightening. I’m falling into something I don’t understand, something I can’t control. And the worst part? I don’t know how to stop.
***
“I knew it! I knew this would happen,” Grace’s voice crackles through my phone speaker, excitement vibrating in every word.
Grace has been my best friend since college, the one person who’s seen me through every high and low. And right now, she’s enjoying this way too much. “Your hot, grumpy boss almost kissed you? This is straight out of a rom-com!”
I flop back on my couch, staring at the ceiling. “He didn’t actually kiss me.”
“But he almost did!” Grace insists, her tone smug. “Which is even better. That means he’s thinking about it. Probably couldn’t stop himself.”
I groan, covering my face with my arm. “This is bad. This is so, so bad.”
“What’s bad about it?” Grace asks, her laughter barely contained. “You have a crush on the most eligible billionaire in the city, and he clearly feels something too. This is gold.”
“He’s my boss,” I say, my voice muffled by the pillow. “My boss, Grace. This is the definition of messy.”
“Messy is fun,” she teases. “Besides, you’ve had a crush on him since day one. Don’t act like you’re not a bit excited.”
I bite my lip, my cheeks heating. “I’m . . . confused.”
“That’s because you like him.” Her voice softens. “And because you’re scared.”
I close my eyes, the memory of his face so close to mine replaying in my mind. “He looked . . . different tonight. Not like the boss who barks orders or argues with me every single chance he gets. He looked . . . lost. Like he needed someone.”
Grace’s voice is gentle. “And you want to be that someone, don’t you?”
My throat tightens, the truth pressing down on me. “I don’t know. I don’t want to get hurt.”
“Then be careful,” she says softly. “But don’t run away from it. If he makes you feel something, maybe it’s worth the risk.”
I don’t answer, my fingers tightening around my phone. Is it worth it? Risking my job, my heart, all for a man who barely lets anyone in?
Before I can say anything, my phone buzzes. A new text message. My heart stutters when I see his name on the screen.
Kyle
Are you free Friday night? I need you to come with me to the awards ceremony.
My mouth goes dry, my heart slamming against my chest. Awards ceremony? With him? In public?
I stare at the message, a thousand questions racing through my mind. Why me? Why now? Is this about work . . . or something else?
Grace’s voice pulls me back. “Hello? Are you still there? What’s happening?”
I swallow, my eyes glued to the screen. “He just asked me to go with him to an awards ceremony.”
Grace lets out a happy laugh. “Oh, this is getting so exciting.”
My heart races, panic and excitement swirling together. “What do I do?”
“Go, obviously!” Grace says, her excitement contagious. “Wear something that’ll make his jaw drop.”
I bite my lip, my stomach twisting. “This is getting complicated.”
“Welcome to love, babe.” Grace laughs. “It’s messy, crazy, and absolutely worth it.”
I close my eyes, Kyle’s face flashing through my mind. His touch, his voice, the way he looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time.
I’m in trouble. Deep, deep trouble.