A FAMILIAR INTERRUPTION
Wednesday morning began quietly.
Chisimdi arrived just after eight, nodded to the lobby security officer, and took the elevator straight up to the executive floor.
Outside the suite, Ada was already sorting through a towering stack of physical mail while balancing a phone against her shoulder.
Seeing Chisimdi, she lowered the receiver.
“Morning, Chis.”
“Good morning, Ada.”
“How was your evening?”
“Quiet.”
Ada’s eyes crinkled with amusement.
“You always give me that exact answer.”
“Because it usually is.”
“You need to get out more, girl.”
Chisimdi laughed, dropping her handbag onto her desk.
“You’re starting to sound exactly like Chinny.”
“Then perhaps Chinny has a point.”
Shaking her head, Chisimdi booted up her desktop and began formatting her first spreadsheet.
Her phone buzzed against the wood.
It was Chinny, demanding to know why she had pulled a complete vanishing act after work the previous evening.
Chisimdi’s lips twitched as her thumbs flew across the glass, typing back that she had simply gone straight home.
The response was instantaneous: Exactly.
That’s the entire problem.
Letting out a quiet huff of laughter, Chisimdi flipped the phone face down to cut off the incoming lecture.
Across the corridor, Ada gathered a neat stack of documents and disappeared into Damian’s office.
Chisimdi forced her eyes to remain glued to her monitor.
She was trying her best not to track his door.
Damian’s morning was a relentless gauntlet of corporate fires.
By eleven o’clock, he had already endured two high-stakes escalations from the Abuja branch, a tense contract dispute, and a grueling alignment meeting that had overrun by twenty minutes.
When he finally retreated to his office, Ada followed him inside with a stack of contracts.
“These require your signature before the lunch break.
Also, the board secretary shifted your Thursday briefing to ten in the morning.”
“Alright.”
Ada hesitated by the desk.
“And Chisimdi asked me to remind you that the revised supplier documents are ready.”
Damian’s eyes snapped up from the contracts, tracking past Ada toward the glass partition.
Outside, Chisimdi was completely absorbed in her screen.
He forced his eyes back down.
“I’ll look them over.”
The moment Ada left, Damian let out a slow breath.
For the past forty-eight hours, he had strictly enforced his boundaries.
No unnecessary interactions.
No lingering at her desk.
No invented excuses.
It should have brought him peace.
Instead, the forced distance only made the office feel heavier.
A sharp knock broke his thoughts.
“Come in.”
Chisimdi stepped inside carrying a slim folder.
“Sorry to interrupt, Mr.
Adetola.”
“You’re not.”
She stepped up to the desk, sliding the file over.
“The supplier documents.”
Her eyebrows lifted.
“You know?”
“Ada reminded me.”
“Oh.”
She immediately pivoted to leave.
Damian watched the sharp turn of her shoulders, his filter slipping before he could stop it.
“You seem disappointed.”
She stopped, looking back over her shoulder.
“I thought I was actually being useful.”
“You are.” The response tore from him with uncharacteristic immediacy.
Chisimdi blinked, a faint flush coloring her cheeks.
She looked away first.
“Good.”
She took another step toward the exit.
“Chisimdi.”
She paused, her hand hovering near the handle.
Damian opened his mouth to ask her about her weekend—or the strategist who had asked her to lunch—but the words trapped themselves in his throat.
He looked down at the folder instead.
“Nothing.”
A real smile broke across her face.
“You really do that a lot, you know.”
“Do what?”
“Call my name, and then completely change your mind.”
His mouth curved into a phantom smile.
“Maybe you should stop turning around.”
“Maybe I will.”
She slipped out, the door clicking shut.
Damian leaned back into his leather chair, a quiet laugh escaping him.
It was a completely insignificant exchange, yet the sudden warmth in his chest refused to dissipate.
By lunchtime, Chisimdi was scanning a compliance email when a familiar voice sounded from behind her.
“Chis!”
She turned to find Amaka standing a few feet away, a paper coffee cup in hand and a wide grin on her face.
Chisimdi’s eyes widened in genuine delight.
“Amaka?”
“The one and only.” Amaka closed the distance for a quick embrace.
“You completely abandoned us downstairs.”
“I didn’t abandon anyone.
I got promoted.”
Amaka leaned against the partition, looking around the quiet suite.
“How is everyone downstairs?”
“Flooded with work.
And your old desk looks strangely tragic without you.
So, tell me—how is life up here in the clouds?”
Chisimdi’s eyes instinctively flicked toward Damian’s closed office door before she looked back.
“Busy.
Just busy.”
“Only busy?” Amaka narrowed her eyes knowingly.
Chisimdi let out a warning laugh.
“Do not start, Amaka.”
Amaka grinned, raising her hands in surrender.
“Fine, fine.
The team misses you.”
Watching Amaka disappear into the elevator, Chisimdi felt a sudden wave of nostalgia.
The executive floor was a different world—quiet, hyper-controlled, and fiercely professional.
Sometimes she deeply missed the chaotic camaraderie downstairs, where she hadn’t been hyper-aware of her every movement around her boss.
The heavy click of a door handle broke her thoughts.
Damian stepped out of his office, his eyes tracking the empty corridor toward the elevators.
“Who was that?”
Chisimdi turned her chair around.
“Amaka.
From my old department.
She just came up to check on me.”
The rigid line of Damian’s jaw relaxed.
“Are you heading downstairs to join her?”
Chisimdi blinked, caught off guard.
“No.
Why do you ask?”
“Just curious.”
The absolute honesty in his voice hung in the air.
Chisimdi studied his face, a small, daring smile tugging at her lips.
“You sound very curious, Mr.
Adetola.”
“I was.” He didn’t back down, his dark eyes holding hers steadily.
She turned back to her keyboard, her heart doing a sudden, violent flip against her ribs.
“Well, now you know.”
Damian lingered for one more second.
“Good.”
He retreated into his office, closing the door.
Chisimdi stared blindly at her monitor, the text blurring.
It was a harmless question, yet the low cadence of his voice made it feel entirely personal.
He didn’t sound like a boss monitoring staff.
He sounded like a man who simply wanted to know if she was leaving.
That afternoon, Damian found himself entirely unable to focus.
He told himself he was merely concerned about her adjustment—he didn’t want her feeling isolated on the executive floor.
Nothing more.
He glanced through the glass partition.
Chisimdi was standing by Ada’s desk, the two women laughing quietly over a document.
Her smile threw the entire stark, corporate room into sharp relief.
Damian looked back at his computer screen, his pen tapping a rhythmic, irritated beat against his desk.
A minute later, his eyes drifted right back to the glass.
She was still smiling.
Without realizing it, the tension left his own mouth, his lips curving upward in response.
Then, catching himself, his expression instantly hardened into a deep frown.
This was becoming an addiction.
And addictions were fatal when they involved a woman he had explicitly sworn to keep at arm’s length.
Forcing his jaw tight, he locked his eyes onto his work, refusing to look up for the next twenty minutes.
He buried himself in numbers, anchoring his mind in logic.
When he finally permitted himself to glance through the glass again, her desk was entirely empty.
His eyes immediately darted toward the elevator bank, checking the floor indicator.
He caught the movement and sharply pulled his gaze away, his fists clenching on top of his desk.
He wasn’t going to call Ada to ask where she went.
He wasn’t going to walk down the corridor to look for her.
He wasn’t going to invent an emergency to bring her back.
He had the discipline to stop this.
At least, that was the lie he needed to believe.