Nadia kept her eyes on the files in Dylan's hand as she struggled to match his pace. She was still not sure why he had wanted her to attend the meeting.

During the presentation, and for a short while after that, she had started to believe he was going to put her on the project. Wallace Technologies was as big as a tech firm could get and it would have been an opportunity of a lifetime for her to get to work with them. Clearly, Dylan believed otherwise.

"You seem to have a lot going on in that little head of yours," he said, slowing his pace to allow her to fall in step beside him. "Go ahead. Spit it out."

At times, before the Gods of Concealment had decided to take their blessings away from her, she had found herself wondering the same about him. Though, in contrast to his categorical questioning, she had preferred to bury her thoughts and remain in hiding.

"I'm not allowed to talk," she informed him. Given his intolerance of the Wallaces, Nadia had expected to be reprimanded. Instead, out of the corner of her eyes, she saw him take a look at his wristwatch before replying.

"I'll grant you 10 minutes to pour your heart out."

"So very generous of you, Mr VanAssche," Nadia said, making sure the sarcasm in her tone was expressed well.

"Is that how you're going to spend your precious minutes, Hayden? In my praise?" Dylan said, the mockery back in his voice. "Not that I mind."

Barely a minute had passed since they exited the conference room and she could feel the taunt-raining clouds shaping over her head again.

Nadia stole a glance at him. Compared to the conference room, his facial muscles were relaxed. He didn't have his usual mocking grin and his eyes were focused on the corridor ahead, but she could sense the nominal shift in the air around him.

Why?

Was his impassiveness in front of the Wallaces only a way to make them impervious to this mischief lying beneath or his constant teasing of her just another way to satisfy the bitter sadist she had witnessed during the meeting? Nadia had come to realise that his face gave away nothing more than he intended the other to find. And the stark contrast between the two made her wonder which one of it was real.

"Why was I at the meeting?" Nadia asked. She knew she should simply snatch her files away and run to polish her disappearing skills for the next two months, but curiosity got the better of her. It always did.

"You're smart enough to figure it out."

She had. He did want her to work on the project. "But you rejected it. It was a good deal."

"Was it, Hayden?" Dylan cocked his head to the side to look at her, inviting her to challenge his decision. She didn't.

"It was a good app," Nadia corrected herself, relying on her area of expertise.

The corridor opened into the office workspace, then narrowed into another passageway. She didn't know where they were headed to. The place was gigantic. Even after two months and hours of roaming around the headquarters, absorbing the details, as well as finding spots to hide if he ever showed up unexpectedly, there were still a lot of areas left for her to uncover.

"Where are we going?"

"How much do you know about Wallace Technologies?" Dylan asked as they turned to their right. The door at the end of the hallway had a nameplate drilled into it. The word ARCHIVES was printed on it in gold.

"I've read about it a little."

"How little?"

"A few things. They were mostly in association with your company," Nadia replied, regretting being truthful the instant the words hit her ears.

"Ultimately, you accept you used to stalk me," she could hear the contentment in his voice.

"I said your company."

"My company and I are the same, Hayden," Dylan asserted.

As they got closer to the doors of the archive room, Nadia sprinted forward to reach the knob before he did. With the life she had lived, she knew to keep her expectations negligible. Chivalry wasn't something she was much accustomed to and she particularly disliked how Dylan always held the door open for her. He was the last person she should attach hopes of showing her any form of courtesy.

The first twist of the knob didn't make the door budge. Nor did the second. Nor did any number of attempts after that. Since there was no visible keyhole or a latch, Nadia threw a look back at Dylan. He had decided to stay behind, watching her struggle with the doorknob with profound interest.

"Broken," she notified him.

He took a step forward, towards the door. Nadia, in turn, let go of the knob and took one away. Dylan touched a card to the black screen of the—nearly invisible—reader below the knob of the equally black door. It unlocked with a mechanical snap. He nodded, "it is. Indeed."

With a deep, frustrated breath, Nadia walked through the door that he held open for her. It appeared the universe was conspiring against her.

"What other projects are you working on at the moment?" Dylan said as he dumped her files on one of the many study tables set up in one corner of the archive room. The rest of the area was occupied by rows and rows of tall bookshelves, almost touching the high ceiling above. What looked like thousands of boxes and documents—files, folders, manuscripts and digital records—were systematically arranged on the shelves.

Nadia followed Dylan to the first aisle. "Ms Elaine was our only major client. Now that she approved the project, wrapping up and reviewing is all that remains to be done."

"I believe your team can handle that on their own?"

"Perfectly well," Nadia assured. Two months of working with her team had taught her to bank on them with a blindfold on. She may be their superior by virtue of her designing and developing skills, but within the first week of working together, she had realised their practical experience surpassed hers by a mile.

"What happens to me?" Nadia asked. After his extremely polite dismissal of the deal with the Wallaces, she wondered if his earlier order—a word that she had started to despise—would still hold. "Do I get back to my usual job? The notice said I'll be working for you for the next two weeks."

"Do you not work with me now, Hayden?" Dylan selected a box at random from the shelves and passed it to her. Nadia felt the impact of its weight straight to her feet, supported on pointed stiletto heels, as she followed him to the last aisle.

"Looks like I do," she sighed, dropping the box on the little reading table near the fringes of the shelves when told to do so.

As soon as the lid of the box was off, she knew which one among the alphabetically organised files he was going to pick: one with the green tab with WALLACE written over it. The first page of the document was a catalogue with a series of alphanumeric sequences. Dylan marked four of them before sliding the sheet to her.

"Get these."

"You realise I'm not your assistant," Nadia said defiantly, crossing her arms. Her job demanded her to write codes and lead teams, not fetch folders and follow him around like an animal de compagnie.

"Get to work, Hayden, or I'll make sure you become one," Dylan said, pinning her with his eyes.

Her glare at that was immaculate but the threat was effective. Nadia snatched the sheet and turned around, to compare the sequence on the paper with the labels attached to the folders resting on the selves.

"This is workplace harassment," she muttered to herself as she pulled the sliding ladder to the appropriate spot.

An older experience of spraining her ankle prompted her to take off her heels before climbing the steps of the ladder. Though with all the abuse her feet had suffered throughout the day, she doubted the pain would be any less.

Not calculating the variation in the flat surface of the floor and the thin rung of the ladder was what cemented her feet's disastrous fate: Nadia slipped with the first step. Her hand shot up to clasp the ladder to prevent her face from slamming into the metal while she balanced herself using an otherworldly skill that she was surprised to discover within herself.

"Very smooth, Hayden."

The relief she felt at the accomplishment was soon squashed under the weight of the sarcasm in Dylan's voice. He hadn't even flinched, but she saw the fascination in his eyes for the brief circus she had put on display.

Doubling the caution, Nadia pulled the first folder out, climbed down the steps, plonked it on the table next to Dylan, and went back to drag the ladder to the next spot, only to realise that shelf was reachable on foot. With a groan, she repeated the act with the second one.

Though she could feel his eyes tracking her movements, Nadia concentrated on the job she was ordered to do. One look would be enough to get her riled up.

The third folder was when he came to rest a muscular shoulder against the metallic shelf. With two steps up on the ladder, she was now at his eye level—the perfect height for giving him an angry side glance.

"Why am I doing this? You rejected the deal," Nadia demanded as she pulled the folder and tossed it to him.

"What happened to the polite, professional self, Hayden? Is this how you talk to your boss?" Dylan asked. His eyebrows were raised in mock surprise as he pretended to take offence.

It was hard to maintain professionalism when all she wanted was to frisbee the file to his face. She resisted the urge to tell him that—or do that to him.

"Apologies, Mr VanAssche. May I know why I'm doing this when you already rejected the deal?" She asked instead, drowning her words in barrels of courtesy.

"That's more like it," he smiled, putting the folder back on a higher shelf. Nadia grabbed it again—annoyed—and went to set it on the table with the others.

"I gave them a choice for the deal. They're going to take it," Dylan said, his eyes travelling around the room with her.

"Mr Wallace made it clear he will not."

"And yet he will. He needs this project."

"To request a merger again?" Nadia asked, remembering the sheer desperation that the Wallaces had tried to shroud with indifference.

"To request a merger again," he confirmed, looking impressed by that deduction.

"But Cathy was right," Nadia said. She slid the ladder to the last spot.

Dylan followed. "She was."

"Then why not accept the merger?"

With the last folder in hand, they walked back to the reading table. Dylan closed the lid of the box and placed his elbow over it. The fragile cardboard faltered supporting his huge frame.

"Let's put it this way, Hayden," he leaned forward as if to tell her a secret. "They're sailing too close to the wind. And when the storm gets to them and tears them apart, I'd prefer to watch from the shore rather than share the boat."

Nadia gave it a thought, then nodded in understanding. He had decided to retain the facts to himself, throwing her only the crumbs of an idea. Obviously, there was more to it than he was letting on.

"What's the storm?" She had to ask.

Dylan simply smiled in response. He picked up the box and started to move towards the first aisle. Nadia slipped her feet back into her heels and grabbed the folders before going after him.

"If that's the case, why sign the deal at all?"

"Take a guess," he returned the box to the shelf.

"Because you like to torment kind, hard-working people to exert your tyranny," Nadia offered.

"Not all, Hayden. Just one," Dylan said with a charming smile. "It was indeed a good deal."

Nadia opened her mouth to argue, then closed it, cursing herself internally for backing away from his challenge earlier. She collected the rest of the files from the table and joined him near the entrance. Since her hands were full of heavy folders, Nadia was grateful when he got the door for her.

"Go through these documents then come to me for more details when you're done. You'll need them when working with James," he instructed, as they walked into the hallway.

"James Wallace? I'll have to work with James Wallace?"

Dylan nodded. "He will be the project manager."

"He is a bully," Nadia grumbled. If the few minutes in the conference room were any preview, she was not keen on watching the full movie.

Dylan must have noticed the disinclination on her face as he raised his brows, amused. "Not a very good first impression, then."

"Though certainly far from the worst," she chaffed with the slightest hint of an ancient resentment.

"Really? Who was the worst?" Dylan frowned.

She whirled at him, her eyes narrowed to almost slits. The sparkle in his hazel ones gave away his act and Nadia turned around to walk faster. Her heels clattered on the hardwood floor with greater intensity to indemnify the deep, resonating sound of his laughter.

"Jerk," she murmured to herself, then had a horrifying epiphany: she was smiling.