Clementine, a social media manager with fiery red hair and emerald green eyes, was a contradiction. Shy in person, her mind buzzed with fascinating trivia just waiting for the right listener.
Sebastian Montgomery as the tabloids dubbed him, was an...
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Clementine sat cross-legged on her small living room floor, her laptop balanced on the coffee table, her fingers flying across the keyboard. The glow from the screen illuminated the stack of papers beside her, a half-empty cup of tea long gone cold. She had spent the entire evening compiling the final document—a thorough edit of everything from the business retreat, her notes meticulous, the formatting flawless. She was almost done when her phone buzzed against the table.
She glanced at the caller ID. Her Head of Department.
With a sigh, she tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder, still typing as she answered. "Hello?"
"Clementine, I need you to take the compiled file to Sebastian Montgomery."
Her hands froze over the keyboard.
"I—what?" she said, blinking.
"Sebastian needs to review it personally before it's sent out," her HOD explained impatiently. "He's not in his office, and we need this done tonight. You're the one who's been handling the edits—you'll take it to him."
Clementine swallowed. "I can just email—"
"No. He wants a hard copy."
Her stomach twisted. There was no arguing when it came to Sebastian.
"His address is—"
"I—I have it," she cut in quickly, her face heating.
There was a pause. "Then go. Now."
The call ended, leaving her with a sinking feeling.
She exhaled, saved the document, and shut her laptop.
This was just a delivery. That was all.
Still, she couldn't shake the nervous energy twisting in her chest as she grabbed the printed file and headed out.
Sebastian opened the door, his expression unreadable, but Clementine felt the shift in the air instantly.
A flicker of surprise crossed his face, followed by something harder—mild irritation, as if she had arrived at the worst possible moment.
She had never been to his home before, but she had imagined it would be as cold and precise as his office. The sight of him in the warm, dimly lit space—without his usual sharp suit, sleeves rolled up, his tie missing—somehow made her feel like she had crossed a line.
"What are you doing here?" His voice was flat, unimpressed.
She clutched the file tighter. "I—uh—was told to bring this to you."
His gaze flicked to the folder, then back to her. He didn't reach for it. "It couldn't wait until tomorrow?"
"No," she admitted quietly, her heart hammering. "You—you needed to approve it before—"
