It started with a power outage.
One moment, Gigi was staring at the glow of her laptop screen, fingers furiously typing out a last-minute proposal. The next, everything went black - screens, lights, hum of the AC. Silence swallowed the room.
Then came a voice from the other side of the office.
"You still here?" Raymond.
"Deadlines don't care about brownouts," Gigi muttered.
He approached with a flashlight from his phone, casting light on her face. "You're always the last one standing."
She didn't answer.
He leaned against the doorway of the conference room she had claimed as her late-night workspace. "The backup generator only powers half the building. Security said they'll restore everything in twenty minutes."
"Then I have twenty minutes to be brilliant."
He watched her for a moment longer. "Want a drink while you wait? I keep a bottle in my office."
She hesitated. "Not a great idea, sir."
"I'm not your boss right now. I'm just a guy stuck in a blackout with a coworker who works too hard."
It was the way he said it - light, casual, almost boyish - that made her pause. Against her better judgment, she stood.
"Just one."
His office was dimly lit by streetlights filtering through the window blinds. He poured two fingers of scotch into her glass, more into his. They sat across from each other in the semi-dark, the city flickering behind them like it was trying to wink her into trouble.
"To long nights and sharp minds," he toasted.
"To deadlines that don't flirt back," she answered.
They laughed. The mood loosened. Her guard didn't drop - but it shifted. Enough to let in a sliver of something she didn't name.
"You know," he said after a long sip, "I've met a lot of women in this industry. But none of them intimidate me the way you do."
She rolled her eyes. "That's not flattery. That's a warning."
"I mean it," he said, serious now. "You walk in like you own the room. Like nothing touches you."
"Because nothing should."
"What happened to you, Gigi?"
The question caught her off-guard. Not because it was personal - but because it sounded like he actually wanted to know.
She stood, needing space. "Nothing 'happened.' I just learned early."
"Learned what?"
She looked at him, silhouetted in the dark, face soft with curiosity - not lust, not arrogance, just something... human.
"That love is a beautiful scam. And I don't buy into it."
He stood too. "I don't think you believe that."
"I do," she said sharply. "I've seen it. Lived inside it. Watched it rot every woman in my family."
He stepped closer. "You don't have to let it rot you, too."
The moment stretched - quiet, electric. Then, without warning, he kissed her.
It wasn't rough or desperate. It was searching. Soft. Like asking a question.
She froze for a second… and then pulled back hard.
"What the hell was that?"
"I'm sorry," he said, breathing unevenly. "I don't know. I just - "
"You don't get to cross that line."
"Gigi - "
"Don't."
She stormed out of his office, heart pounding in betrayal and something dangerously close to panic. Not because she didn't see it coming - but because she did.
Outside, the building lights flickered back on.
Inside, something in her had already gone dark.