Jealousy was an emotion Zara Okafor prided herself on not entertaining.
At least, that was what she told herself as she stood outside the glass-walled conference room on the twenty-second floor of Sterling Holdings, fingers clenched tightly around her tablet. Through the transparent walls, she could see Adrian Blackwood leaning casually against the conference table, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, laughter softening the sharp angles of his face.
And the cause of that laughter was not her.
It was a woman—tall, elegant, impossibly confident—standing far too close to him.
Zara inhaled slowly, counting to three the way she always did when emotions threatened to interfere with professionalism. One. Two. Three.
Still, the tightness in her chest refused to ease.
"Focus," she muttered under her breath. "You're here for work."
Yet her eyes betrayed her, drifting back to the scene inside the room. The woman—Lena Hart, if Zara remembered correctly—was a consultant flown in from the London branch. Zara had skimmed her profile earlier that morning: MBA from Oxford, ten years of international experience, devastatingly beautiful in a polished, effortless way.
The kind of woman who belonged in Adrian's world.
Lena brushed a strand of hair behind her ear as she spoke, her smile warm and familiar. Adrian leaned in slightly, listening intently, his expression relaxed in a way Zara had rarely seen directed at anyone else.
Something sharp twisted in Zara's stomach.
She straightened abruptly and turned away from the glass, scolding herself. Why did it matter? Her relationship with Adrian was fake—an arrangement born out of convenience, necessity, and far too many lies layered beneath half-truths.
And yet…
Her tablet buzzed softly in her hands.
Adrian: Where are you? Meeting's about to start.
Zara stared at the message for a moment before replying.
Zara: Outside. Coming in.
She squared her shoulders and stepped into the conference room, the click of her heels announcing her presence.
Adrian looked up immediately.
For a fraction of a second, something unreadable flickered in his eyes—relief, perhaps—before his face settled into its usual composed expression.
"Zara," he said, his voice warm. "Perfect timing."
Lena turned toward her, eyes assessing but polite. "You must be Zara Okafor. I've heard quite a lot about you."
Zara forced a smile. "I hope all of it was good."
Lena laughed lightly. "Only the best. Adrian speaks very highly of you."
The words shouldn't have affected her. They were harmless. Professional.
So why did they feel like a challenge?
"Let's get started," Adrian said, gesturing toward the seats.
Zara took the chair directly across from Lena, acutely aware of every glance, every subtle shift in body language. Throughout the meeting, Lena was brilliant—articulate, strategic, commanding the room with ease. Adrian engaged her fully, their back-and-forth seamless, almost intimate in its rhythm.
Zara contributed when necessary, her insights sharp and precise, but her focus kept slipping.
Each time Lena smiled at Adrian.
Each time Adrian nodded in agreement.
Each time their shared history—whatever it was—hinted at something deeper.
By the time the meeting ended, Zara's head throbbed.
"Excellent work, everyone," Adrian said. "Lena, welcome officially to the team. Zara will coordinate with you on the project timeline."
Lena rose gracefully. "I'd love that."
As the room cleared, Lena lingered, gathering her things. "Adrian, do you still drink your coffee black? No sugar, no nonsense?"
Zara froze.
Adrian chuckled. "Some habits never change."
"Good," Lena said. "Then dinner tonight will feel just like old times."
Dinner.
Tonight.
Zara's heart skipped, then sank.
"That sounds great," Adrian replied. "I'll see you at eight."
Zara kept her expression neutral, though her fingers dug into the edge of the table.
Old times.
So they had history.
Lena finally turned to Zara, her smile kind but curious. "You should join us sometime. Adrian's lucky to have someone like you around."
Before Zara could respond, Lena walked out, heels clicking confidently down the hall.
The silence that followed felt heavy.
Zara gathered her tablet, avoiding Adrian's gaze. "I'll email Lena the project outline."
"Zara," Adrian said quietly.
She paused but didn't turn around.
"I didn't realize you two knew each other so well," she said, her voice controlled.
Adrian hesitated. "We worked together years ago. Nothing more."
"Right," Zara replied, the word clipped.
She turned to face him then, arms crossed. "You don't owe me an explanation."
Adrian studied her carefully. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," she said quickly. "Because this—" she gestured vaguely between them "—isn't real. Remember?"
The words hung between them, sharp and unforgiving.
Adrian's jaw tightened. "I remember."
"Good," Zara said. "Enjoy your dinner."
She walked out before he could say anything else, her composure cracking the moment the elevator doors slid shut.
That evening, Zara sat on her couch, laptop open but untouched. A half-finished report stared back at her as the minutes ticked by.
Eight o'clock.
She imagined Adrian seated across from Lena in some upscale restaurant, candlelight reflecting off crystal glasses, their conversation flowing easily. She pictured Lena's laughter, Adrian's rare, genuine smile.
"Stop," Zara whispered.
She stood abruptly and paced the room. This was ridiculous. She had no claim over Adrian. No right to feel this way.
So why did it feel like betrayal?
Her phone buzzed on the coffee table.
For a moment, she considered ignoring it.
Then she saw the name.
Adrian.
She hesitated before answering. "Yes?"
"Where are you?" he asked.
"At home."
A pause. "Why?"
"I had work to finish."
Another pause, longer this time. "I cancelled dinner."
Zara's breath caught. "You didn't have to."
"I know," Adrian said. "But I wanted to talk to you."
Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words.
"About what?" Zara asked softly.
"About today. About Lena. About… whatever this is between us."
Zara closed her eyes. "There is no 'this.'"
"Isn't there?" Adrian challenged gently.
She exhaled shakily. "You're seeing things."
"Then why did you look at me like that?" he asked. "Why did it matter?"
Zara opened her eyes, staring at the city lights beyond her window. "It didn't."
Another lie.
"Zara," Adrian said, his voice low. "I don't like lying to you."
The irony of that statement almost made her laugh.
"Well, you should get used to it," she replied. "That's what this arrangement is built on."
"Maybe that's the problem," he said quietly.
Her heart pounded. "Adrian—"
"Let me come over," he interrupted. "Please."
She hesitated. Every instinct told her to say no.
But another part of her—the reckless, vulnerable part—whispered yes.
"Fine," she said. "But just to talk."
"I promise."
When Adrian arrived, the tension between them was immediate, electric.
He stood just inside the doorway, jacket in hand, eyes searching her face. "You look tired."
"So do you," Zara replied.
They moved to the living room, standing awkwardly until Adrian finally spoke.
"Lena means nothing to me," he said. "Not anymore."
Zara scoffed. "You don't cancel dinner with someone who means nothing."
"I do when someone else matters more," he said without hesitation.
The words struck her like a physical blow.
"Don't," she whispered.
"Don't what?"
"Don't say things you don't mean."
Adrian stepped closer. "I mean this."
She looked up at him, emotions swirling dangerously close to the surface. "Then why does it scare me?"
"Because you feel it too," he said.
Her defenses crumbled.
"I was jealous," Zara admitted, the word tasting foreign and raw. "And I hate that. I hate that you can make me feel things I didn't agree to feel."
Adrian reached out, hesitating before brushing his thumb gently against her cheek. "I never planned for this either."
Their eyes locked, the air between them heavy with longing and fear.
"This is complicated," Zara whispered.
"Yes," Adrian agreed. "But it's real."
For a moment, she let herself lean into his touch.
Then reality crashed back in.
"No," she said, stepping away. "It can't be."
Adrian's hand fell to his side.
"We're pretending," she continued, voice trembling. "And pretending is all we're allowed."
Adrian nodded slowly, disappointment flickering across his face. "For now."
As he turned to leave, Zara felt the ache settle deep in her chest.
Jealousy had opened a door she wasn't ready to walk through.
And she knew, with terrifying certainty, that closing it would only make everything harder.