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*Love No More*
*Chapter 3: The Overtime That Changed Everything*
8:47 PM.
XYZ Tower. Floor 43.
The entire building was dark except for one light. His.
I told myself I wasn’t staying late for him.
I was staying for the merger report.
Because if I messed up in my first month, I’d be out. And I couldn’t afford to be out.
My coffee had gone cold two hours ago. My eyes burned.
The door to his office was open a crack.
"You’re still here."
His voice made me jump.
Daniel Carter stood by the window, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up. He looked less like a CEO and more like a man who hadn’t slept in days.
"The merger report," I said, holding it up. "You need it by 8 AM."
He turned. Those ice-cold eyes scanned me.
"Most PAs would’ve left at 6."
"Most PAs don’t want to be fired in their first month, sir."
Something shifted in his expression. For the first time since I started, he actually _saw_ me. Not my title. Not my mistakes. Me.
"Sit."
"I'm fine standing, sir."
"That wasn’t a request, Abigail."
I sat. Across from the man who hated distractions. Across from the man I had sworn I would never feel anything for.
The room was quiet except for the rain hitting the glass.
"Why do you work so hard?" he asked suddenly.
The question caught me off guard.
"Because I don’t have anything else to go home to."
The words left me before I could stop them.
He didn’t respond. He just reached into his drawer and pushed a takeout box across the desk. Still warm.
"Eat."
"Sir?"
"You didn’t eat lunch. I noticed."
My chest tightened. "Thank you, Mr. Carter."
"Don’t read into it," he said quickly, turning back to his laptop. "I need you alert tomorrow."
But his tie was loose. His jaw was softer. For a second, he looked human.
"Did you eat, sir?" I asked before I could stop myself.
"I don’t get hungry."
"Everyone gets hungry."
He stopped typing. Stared at me like I’d said something offensive.
"You talk back a lot."
"Only when you’re wrong, sir."
The corner of his mouth twitched. Almost a smile. Almost.
"Finish the report," he said finally. "I’ll drive you home."
"That’s not necessary—"
"It’s 9 PM, Abigail. I’m not debating this."
He said my name like that. Full. Heavy.
_Abigail._
It felt dangerous in his mouth.
The car ride was silent. Rain streaked the windows. When he handed me my folder at the drop-off, his fingers brushed mine.
Warm.
Nothing like the cold rain from six months ago.
Nothing like Mark.
I whispered it as I closed the car door.
"No men. Ever again."
But my heart?
It was beating too fast.
Again.
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