She Works Reception At A Law Firm, Not Knowing The New CEO Client Would Soon Love Her
Beyond the Glass Walls
The next evening, Bria stepped out of her apartment in a navy dress she hadn’t worn since her cousin’s wedding and nearly stumbled when she saw the sleek black car waiting.
The driver opened the door and she slid inside, expecting to see Reese already there. But the car was empty except for a small white box on the seat. Inside was a note: “Just in case you didn’t have time to grab one. R.”
She lifted the lid and gasped. A pair of silver heels, elegant, expensive, and exactly her size. She clutched the box to her chest, heart racing.
Dinner was at a rooftop restaurant overlooking the city skyline. Reese was already waiting, tall and devastating in a dark suit with no tie, sleeves rolled up like he didn’t care about looking perfect.
“You look—” he said slowly, staring at her. “Wow.”
Bria blushed. “Thanks for the shoes.”
“You’re welcome. Now sit, eat, tell me everything.”
And somehow, she did. They talked through appetizers, entrées, and dessert. They talked about her dream to work in publishing and his childhood in Chicago.
They spoke about the pressure of running a billion-dollar company when everyone expected you to fail, or worse, to succeed too much. He didn’t talk like a CEO; he talked like a man who’d seen too much too fast and was tired of pretending he didn’t care.
By the time dessert came, Bria had forgotten every rule she told herself about not getting involved with clients or falling for rich men. Reese wasn’t just rich; he was real and looking at her like she was the only real thing in the room.
She sipped her wine, trying to keep her voice light. “Do you do this with all the receptionists?”
“Only the ones who make me want to cancel meetings just to see them smile.”
She laughed. “That’s a terrible business strategy.”
He leaned in closer. “Maybe, but it’s working.”
And just like that, Bria Kent’s very normal life stopped being normal at all. She stood at the back of the elevator Monday morning, trying to ignore the ridiculous flutter in her chest.
She hadn’t seen Reese since their dinner Saturday night. He hadn’t come by the office Sunday, not that she expected him to, and he hadn’t called. But there had been no awkward silence either, just space.
Now, with every floor that ticked upward, she found herself rehearsing what she’d say if he walked through the door again. When she reached the front desk, the office phone rang.
She answered automatically with the firm’s standard greeting, but the voice on the other end cut straight through it.
“Don’t cancel your lunch break today.”
Bria’s pulse stumbled. “Excuse me?”
“I’m sending a car. Noon sharp. Wear something comfortable.”
She opened her mouth, but the line had already gone dead. She hung up slowly, blinking at the handset like it might give her answers. Comfortable? Noon?
Noon arrived with a sleek black car pulling up to the curb like it had been summoned by magic. Fifteen minutes later, she was standing in the middle of a glass-walled art gallery overlooking the river.
The space was completely empty except for Reese. His jacket was gone and sleeves were pushed up again, but there was something different in his face today—not tired or guarded, just focused.
“You brought me to a gallery?” she asked, glancing around at the massive canvases and sculptures.
“You mentioned once you used to sketch,” he said. “Thought you might like this.”
Her eyes narrowed. “When did I mention that?”
“You were talking about how you spent your first year in the city. Something about sketching strangers on the subway until it got too awkward.”
She hadn’t even remembered saying that. She stared at him. “You really pay attention, don’t you?”
“I don’t waste time asking questions I don’t care about.”
She looked around again, slower this time. The gallery wasn’t just curated; it was personal. One enormous charcoal drawing of a dancer mid-motion made her breath catch.
“That one’s yours,” he said quietly.
She turned. “What?”
“I bought it last year. The artist sold prints, but I tracked down the original.”
Her heart thudded. “Why?”
“Because it felt like something I wasn’t supposed to forget.”
She swallowed, suddenly unsure how to respond. He glanced at his watch.
“We’ve got 40 minutes before I’m due in Midtown. Want to walk?”
They stepped outside, the wind off the river tugging at her sleeves as they strolled the footpath. Reese stayed close, but he didn’t touch her; he didn’t need to.
“You ever wish you’d done something else?” she asked, breaking the silence.
He looked over at her. “All the time. But I never had the chance.”
“Why not?”
“My father died when I was sixteen. Everything he left behind was falling apart. I didn’t get to pick my future; I just tried to hold on to what was left of his.”
She hadn’t expected that. She glanced at him, unsure what to say. He gave a brief nod, like he’d already moved past it.
“What about you? Why the law firm?”
“It was supposed to be temporary. I had an internship lined up with a publishing house after college, but they shut down the month I graduated. Rent doesn’t wait.”
He looked at her. “You still want to publish?”
She smiled faintly. “Doesn’t pay much, and the hours are brutal, but yeah, I do.”
He stopped walking. She turned to face him, and his eyes were unreadable.
“Bria,” he said slowly. “I don’t want to play games with you.”
Her throat tightened. “I don’t want games either.”
“I’m not good at casual. I don’t have the time for it, and I’m not interested in pretending I don’t care when I do.”
She nodded, pulse racing.
“So if this is just fun for you, tell me now. I’ll respect it. But if you’re scared because it’s real, I need you to say that instead.”
Something shifted in the air between them. The wind, the river, and the city behind them all faded.
“I’m scared because it’s real,” she said finally.
His jaw clenched. “Then we’re on the same page.”
A black SUV pulled up near the curb. Reese glanced toward it, then back at her.
“I have to go, but I’ll see you tonight.”
“Tonight?”
“Seven. Dress warm.”
That evening, she stepped out in a long wool coat. A midnight blue car was waiting. They drove north past the city limits until they pulled off the main road.
Bria saw tiny golden lights wrapped around trees. In the middle of a quiet, snow-dusted woodland stood a glass greenhouse glowing with light. Reese stood at the entrance.
“You did this?” she asked.
“I wanted something quiet. Somewhere I could actually hear you.”
They ate beneath the stars, surrounded by warmth and the scent of jasmine. Halfway through the meal, she looked up at him.
“Why me?”
He leaned back. “Because you see people, not just what they show you. You ask questions no one else bothers to ask. When you look at me, I don’t feel like I have to earn your approval.”
She swallowed. “You don’t.”
He reached across the table, brushing her fingers.
“I’ve spent my life building walls. I didn’t think anyone could see past them. And now… now I’m hoping you don’t stop looking.”
It wasn’t a declaration or a promise, but it was the most honest thing anyone had ever said to her. Bria Kent wasn’t just falling; she was already gone.
The first time Bria walked into Reese’s penthouse, she realized she’d never understood wealth like this. Later, she asked about his piano. He revealed he stopped playing after his brother died in a motorcycle accident at twenty-three.
“You don’t have to explain,” she said gently.
“I do,” he replied. “Because you’re the first person I’ve let in past the front doors.”
“That’s not nothing.”
He shook his head slightly. “It’s everything.”
The next morning, she woke tangled in his sheets. Reese spoke of making changes—selling the penthouse, moving headquarters.
“I’ve spent years building things I thought I needed, but none of it means anything if I can’t share it with someone who sees me.”
“I want to believe you,” she said. “But this is moving fast. Too fast.”
“I know. But I don’t want to pretend I’m not all in.”
Later that day at the office, Jonathan Adler informed her she was being transferred to Reese’s team for administrative support effective immediately. Bria was furious that Reese hadn’t asked her. She stormed to the executive wing.
“You requested I be transferred to your team,” she demanded.
“I did. Because I trust you.”
“You didn’t even ask me!”
“I didn’t think I needed to.”
Her voice hardened. “I’m not one of your board members, Reese. You don’t get to make decisions about my life without asking.”
He stood, pacing toward her. “I wanted you closer. This way we can see each other without sneaking around. I thought it would make things easier.”
“For who? You? So you can keep tabs on me without leaving your ivory tower?”
He flinched.
“I don’t want to be another convenience in your perfectly curated world,” she said. “Start treating me like your equal, not your experiment.”
She turned before he could answer and pushed through the doors. That night, there was no text, no call, no car. Just silence.
