Theo’s hand dropped from the door.
“No,” he said. “Not yet.”
Daria stared at him. “You’re voluntarily staying trapped in a corporate bathroom?”
“One of the executives cornered me outside ten minutes ago with a merger proposal and three lawyers.” His expression flattened. “This is currently the quietest room in the building.”
Despite herself, she laughed again.
The sound softened something in his face.
“You should do that more often,” he said.
“What? Laugh in public? Dangerous suggestion.”
“No.” His eyes held hers in the mirror. “Sound like someone who still expects life to surprise her.”
The air shifted strangely after that.
Not romantic exactly. Not yet. But intimate in the dangerous way honesty always was.
Theo loosened his cuffs and sat carefully on the marble counter beside the sink, expensive shoes planted against the tile. For the first time since she’d started working at Thorn Pharmaceuticals eight months ago, he looked less like a magazine cover and more like a man who hadn’t slept enough.
“You know,” Daria said carefully, “people are terrified of you.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
“You say that like you didn’t cultivate it.”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “Fear is efficient.”
“And lonely.”
That made him go still.
The fluorescent lights hummed overhead.
Somewhere in the distance, a printer started whirring beyond the walls of the twenty-second floor.
Theo looked at her for a long moment before saying quietly, “You notice more than people think.”
Daria shrugged. “Receptionists hear everything. People stop seeing you after a while. You become furniture with a phone line.”
“I doubt anyone could mistake you for furniture.”
Heat crept into her cheeks.
Wonderful.
Now she was blushing in front of a billionaire while smelling faintly like stress and drugstore concealer.
She crossed her arms tighter. “You don’t have to flirt with me because we’re trapped.”
“I wasn’t flirting.”
His pause lasted exactly one beat.
“Though now I’m considering it.”
“Oh my God.”
The laugh escaped her before she could stop it, louder this time.
Theo looked absurdly pleased with himself.
Then her phone buzzed again.
Belle.
Daria’s stomach tightened instantly.
Theo noticed the change in her face. “You don’t have to answer.”
“I kind of do.”
She swiped the screen and pressed the phone to her ear. “What?”
Belle sighed dramatically on the other end. “Finally. I’ve been calling for an hour.”
“I’m at work.”
“You always say that.”
Daria closed her eyes.
Theo quietly looked away again, giving her privacy he technically couldn’t give in a locked bathroom three feet wide.
“What do you need, Belle?”
“The electricity got shut off.”
Of course it did.
Daria pressed fingers to her forehead.
“We’re behind two months,” Belle continued. “I told you that already.”
“I sent money last week.”
“It wasn’t enough.”
A sharp ache bloomed behind Daria’s ribs.
Her sister was twenty-three years old. Smart. Funny. Beautiful when she wanted to be. But grief had hollowed Belle out after their grandmother died, leaving behind someone restless and angry and always waiting for Daria to rescue her from consequences.
“How much?” Daria asked quietly.
“Three hundred.”
Daria almost laughed from exhaustion.
She had forty-two dollars in her checking account.
“Belle—”
“You said you’d take care of us.”
The words sliced deeper than they should have.
Because she had said it.
At nineteen, standing beside Grandma’s hospital bed while machines beeped softly in the dark, Daria had promised she would keep them together.
She hadn’t realized promises could become chains.
“I’ll figure something out,” she whispered.
“You better.”
The call ended.
Daria stared at the black screen for several seconds before lowering the phone slowly.
Theo was watching her now.
Not intrusive.
Just attentive.
“That sounded difficult,” he said.
“My family has a gift for emergencies.”
“And you have a gift for carrying all of them.”
She let out a breath. “You ever get tired of being responsible for everybody?”
His laugh was quiet and bitter.
“That’s essentially my job description.”
Silence settled again.
Then Theo reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone.
Daria narrowed her eyes instantly. “If you’re about to offer me money, I will climb into the ventilation system to escape this conversation.”
To her surprise, he looked mildly offended.
“I was calling maintenance.”
“Oh.”
He stared at her for a second longer. “Though your assumption says concerning things about how people have treated you.”
Daria looked away.
Because men with money often believed kindness was a transaction waiting to happen.
Theo dialed a number.
No answer.
He tried another.
Straight to voicemail.
He sighed and slid the phone back into his pocket.
“Apparently everyone has gone home except us.”
“Fantastic.” Daria leaned her head against the wall. “This is how horror movies start.”
“I assure you, Miss Rivers, if I intended murder, I’d choose a less humiliating location.”
“That’s comforting.”
Another flicker of amusement crossed his face.
Then his gaze dropped briefly to her hands.
“You’re shaking.”
She looked down.
Damn it.
She hadn’t noticed.
“I skipped lunch,” she admitted reluctantly.
Theo stared at her.
“Daria.”
Something about hearing her first name in his voice made her pulse stumble.
“You work twelve-hour shifts.”
“I’m aware.”
“You skipped lunch.”
“I had crackers.”
“That’s not lunch.”
“Look at you,” she muttered. “One accidental emotional breakthrough and suddenly you’re worried about my nutrition.”
Without another word, Theo reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket.
Daria blinked as he pulled out a small silver tin.
“What is that?”
“Peppermints.”
“You carry emergency peppermints?”
“I attend shareholder meetings.”
Fair point.
He opened the tin and held it out.
Daria took one carefully.
Their fingers brushed.
Tiny contact.
Barely there.
Still, heat climbed unexpectedly up her arm.
Theo noticed.
She knew he noticed because his eyes sharpened slightly.
The room suddenly felt much smaller.
Daria cleared her throat and stepped back. “So… your family owns half the city. What’s your tragic flaw besides being emotionally constipated?”
Theo looked genuinely startled.
Then he laughed.
Not polite laughter.
Real laughter.
Deep enough to echo softly off the tile.
“You’re very brave,” he said.
“No,” Daria replied. “I’m trapped. Different thing.”
“That wasn’t my tragic flaw, by the way.”
“Oh?”
His smile faded slowly.
“I stay where I’m needed long after I should leave.”
The words carried weight.
Before Daria could ask what he meant, voices sounded faintly outside the bathroom door.
Theo straightened immediately.
So did she.
A woman laughed somewhere beyond the hallway.
Then came footsteps.
The handle rattled once.
Locked.
“Hello?” Daria called quickly.
The footsteps stopped.
Then a familiar female voice drifted through the door.
“Theo?”
Daria froze.
Theo’s entire expression changed.
Not dramatically.
But enough.
The warmth disappeared behind polished steel.
“Vivian,” he said flatly.
Daria’s stomach twisted instinctively.
Vivian Laurent.
Chief legal officer at Thorn Pharmaceuticals. Elegant, ruthless, and rumored to be unofficially engaged to Theodore Kingsley depending on which gossip source you trusted.
Outside the door came a short silence.
Then: “Why are you in the women’s restroom?”
Theo pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Long story.”
Another pause.
“Are you alone?”
Daria looked at him.
Theo looked back at her.
Something unreadable passed across his face.
“No,” he answered calmly.
Silence exploded on the other side.
“Oh,” Vivian said finally.
That single syllable somehow carried enough icy sophistication to freeze the Mississippi River.
Daria suddenly became hyperaware of her smeared mascara and swollen eyes.
Fantastic.
Exactly how every woman wanted to meet the CEO’s glamorous almost-fiancée.
“Maintenance is on the way,” Vivian said coolly. “Though the optics of this are potentially catastrophic.”
Theo’s jaw tightened. “Thank you for your concern.”
“You have a board dinner in forty minutes.”
“I’m aware.”
Her heels clicked once against the floor outside.
Then she stopped.
“Theodore,” she said quietly through the door, “your mother has been trying to reach you.”
Something dark crossed his face instantly.
“Noted.”
Vivian left.
The hallway fell silent again.
Daria looked carefully at Theo.
Whatever lightness had existed moments earlier vanished completely.
“You okay?” she asked before thinking better of it.
Theo exhaled slowly through his nose.
“No.”
The honesty of it startled her.
He turned away, shoulders rigid.
“My mother believes grief is embarrassing,” he said quietly. “Marcus died and she reorganized the funeral flowers because she thought white lilies looked weak.”
Daria stared at him.
“That’s horrible.”
“She considered it practical.”
Something in his voice made her chest ache.
This man had been raised in a world where vulnerability was treated like infection.
No wonder he wore composure like armor.
Without thinking, Daria stepped closer.
“Theo.”
He looked at her.
Up close, she could see exhaustion beneath his eyes.
Loneliness too.
The kind that money never touched.
“My grandma used to say rich people were just sad people with better curtains,” she murmured.
A surprised sound escaped him.
Almost a laugh.
“She sounds remarkable.”
“She really was.”
For a moment neither of them moved.
The room narrowed around them.
Fluorescent light.
Quiet breathing.
The faint scent of his cologne—clean cedar and rain.
Daria became aware of how close they were standing.
Close enough to notice the gold flecks in his eyes.
Close enough that if she leaned forward—
The bathroom lights suddenly shut off.
Darkness swallowed the room.
Daria yelped softly.
Then emergency backup lighting flickered dim red along the floor.
“Oh, that’s not ominous at all,” she muttered.
Theo swore under his breath.
The red glow transformed the room into something intimate and surreal.
Daria’s pulse quickened unexpectedly.
Theo stepped toward her automatically, instinctive and protective.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
But she was standing very still now.
Because his hand had settled lightly against her elbow.
Warm.
Steady.
Careful.
Neither of them moved away.
Outside, thunder rolled faintly across the New Orleans sky.
Rain began tapping softly against distant windows.
Theo looked down at her.
Daria’s breath caught.
There was something dangerous about being seen when you’d spent your whole life trying to hide your struggles.
And Theodore Kingsley was seeing her.
Not the receptionist.
Not the tired woman behind the desk.
Her.
“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” she whispered.
“Like what?”
“Like you understand me.”
His thumb shifted slightly against her sleeve.
“Maybe I do.”
The words landed softly between them.
Daria’s heart beat harder.
This was reckless.
Impossible.
Absurd.
And yet standing here in the dim red light, she felt closer to him than she had to anyone in years.
Theo’s gaze dropped briefly to her mouth.
The air changed again.
Then—
A loud metallic CLANG shattered the moment.
The door suddenly jerked open.
Bright hallway light flooded the room.
Daria jumped back instantly.
A maintenance worker blinked at them from the doorway.
“Oh,” he said slowly.
Theo stepped away from her at once, expression sliding back into perfect corporate calm with almost frightening speed.
“Thank you,” he said smoothly.
The worker looked deeply uncomfortable.
“Right. Uh. Door’s fixed.”
Daria grabbed her purse immediately.
Reality crashed back in all at once.
Reception desk.
Overdue rent.
Vivian Laurent.
Worlds that did not overlap.
Theo glanced at her as the worker disappeared down the hallway.
For one strange second, neither moved toward the exit.
Then Theo spoke quietly.
“There’s a company gala on Saturday.”
Daria blinked.
“What?”
“I need a guest.”
Her mouth fell open.
“You cannot be serious.”
“I rarely am.”
“That’s not true at all.”
A faint smile touched his mouth.
“Come with me.”
Every rational instinct in her body screamed no.
This man belonged to penthouses and private cars and families whose names lived on hospital wings.
Daria belonged to overdue notices and grocery budgets and praying her debit card wouldn’t decline.
But another part of her—the exhausted, lonely part—wanted one evening pretending life could become something else.
Theo stepped closer.
Not enough to touch.
Just enough to lower his voice.
“You looked at me tonight like I was a person instead of a position,” he said. “That’s rare.”
Daria swallowed hard.
“This is a bad idea.”
“Probably.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“No,” he agreed softly. “But it’s honest.”
Before she could answer, her phone buzzed again.
Unknown number.
She frowned and answered cautiously. “Hello?”
A man’s voice spoke immediately.
“Miss Rivers?”
“Yes?”
“This is St. Mercy Hospital regarding your grandmother’s outstanding medical balance—”
Daria’s blood went cold.
“My grandmother died two years ago.”
“Yes, ma’am, but your name remains attached to the debt obligation.”
Theo’s expression sharpened instantly as he watched her face drain of color.
The caller continued talking, words blurring together.
Collections.
Legal action.
Final notice.
Daria barely heard any of it.
Because at that exact moment, down the hallway beyond Theo’s shoulder, she saw Vivian Laurent standing near the elevators.
Watching them.
And beside her stood an older woman in pearls and ivory silk with cold aristocratic eyes Daria recognized instantly from business magazines.
Evelyn Kingsley.
Theo’s mother.
The older woman looked directly at Daria.
Then at Theo.
Then at the space between them.
Her expression hardened.
Not confusion.
Recognition.
As though she already knew exactly who Daria was.
A chill slid down Daria’s spine.
Theo turned slightly, following her gaze.
The moment he saw his mother, every muscle in his body locked.
Evelyn Kingsley smiled faintly.
It was not a warm smile.
It was the smile of someone who had just spotted the beginning of a problem.
And somehow… Daria had the terrifying feeling this woman had been expecting her.
