The copier room was colder than the rest of the office, the whir of the machine the only sound filling the space. Beatrice hadn't expected to see River when she slipped in to grab some copies, but as soon as she saw him leaning against the counter, eyes flicking over the page he was holding, everything else seemed to disappear. The air felt tighter.

River glanced up, catching her eye, and for a second, everything in Beatrice stilled. It was that same feeling again—the one that had her stomach in knots and her pulse skipping whenever he was close. But this time, there was no playful teasing, no sarcastic comment to break the tension. Just the weight of his gaze holding her in place.

Beatrice crossed the room, feeling the static between them, the air thick with something unspoken. He didn't move, just stood there, watching her approach with that same quiet confidence. Her heart pounded, loud in her ears, and she swore he could hear it. She kept her face neutral, as if this was just another mundane task, but she couldn't ignore the way her hands trembled as she grabbed the papers from the copier.

It should have been a quick in-and-out, but neither of them left. Neither of them spoke. She could feel his eyes on her—watching, waiting—like he knew something she didn't. And for a moment, Beatrice wondered if she wanted him to close the distance between them. The copier hummed again, the only reminder that they weren't completely alone in the world, but it felt like they were.

Turning her back to him, Beatrice placed the papers in a neat stack, but she could feel him behind her, closer now. His presence was magnetic, drawing her in even when she was trying to keep some distance, to keep things professional. But how could she, when his energy filled the small room, wrapping itself around her?

Glancing over her shoulder, she found his eyes already on her, dark and intense. Her breath caught in her throat. There was something in that look—something more than the casual flirtation they'd danced around for weeks. This was different. It was heavier, hungrier.

Beatrice turned fully to face him, leaning back against the counter as she met his gaze. His jaw was tight, his eyes never leaving hers, and the tension between them was thick enough to cut with a knife. He didn't say anything—he didn't need to. His eyes roamed over her, and the way they lingered made her skin heat. It was a silent question, and the answer was written all over her face.

She couldn't stop the smile that tugged at her lips, a mix of nerves and anticipation. His eyes dropped to her mouth, lingering there like he was memorizing the curve of her smile, the dip of her dimple. The room felt smaller. Her skin tingled under the weight of his gaze, and it was like her body knew what was coming before her mind caught up.

His hand brushed against hers as he reached for the papers she'd stacked. It was such a small touch, barely a graze of skin against skin, but it felt like a spark. Beatrice pulled in a sharp breath, trying to steady herself. But the way his fingers lingered—just for a second longer than necessary—had her heart racing.

Neither of them moved, standing inches apart. The tension between them was palpable, like a thread pulling tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any second. Beatrice looked up at him, her eyes meeting his, and in that moment, she knew there was no going back from this.

"River..." she whispered, the word hanging in the air between them.

As soon as she said his name, his pupils dilated, swallowing up the blue of his eyes until there was almost none left. It was like watching his control slip just a little, the depth of his want laid bare in that moment. His breath hitched, his body stiffening like he was trying to hold himself back, but the hunger in his gaze told her otherwise. It was raw, unfiltered—and it made her pulse quicken even more.

His eyes darkened, and she could see the way they roamed over her face, dipping to her lips as if he was imagining what it would be like to close the space between them. The way his pupils blew out made her feel like the only thing he could see, the only thing he wanted.

Beatrice's heart thundered in her chest, and she felt herself leaning into him, pulled closer by the weight of the silence between them. He didn't move, didn't close the distance, but she could feel the heat radiating off him, the tension pulling tighter and tighter until it was almost unbearable.

Then, it hit her—the look on his face. His smirk, barely there but unmistakable, was a silent admission. He knew. He knew exactly what kind of effect he had on her, and it pleased him. His eyes held a glimmer of satisfaction, a quiet arrogance that sent a flicker of annoyance through her. He liked this, the power he had over her, and it made her skin prickle with frustration and a strange kind of thrill at the same time.

And God, did she hate how much she liked it. How much she liked him.

They stood there, the moment heavy between them. He didn't say anything, just let the smirk linger, his gaze never wavering. There was something about that knowing look, the way his eyes sparked with that maddening mix of confidence and desire, that made Beatrice want to push him away, but also pull him closer.

It was infuriating. And it was exciting.

She should have stepped away. She should have made some excuse, said something to break the moment before it went too far. But she couldn't. Her pulse was pounding, and her body was betraying her, leaning closer when she should have pulled away.

The silence between them was deafening, and Beatrice could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on them. She knew what would happen if she let it go on, but she couldn't help the way her body responded to his—the way her breath quickened, the way her skin prickled with anticipation.

She wanted him to kiss her. God, she wanted it more than anything. But instead, he stepped back. Just an inch, but it was enough to leave her breathless, craving the touch that never came.

"We should get back," he said, his voice low, rough around the edges. His eyes never left hers, though, like he was daring her to make a move.

"Yeah..." she nodded, though her heart screamed for something else. "We should."

He grabbed his papers, but before he left, he looked back at her one more time, his lips twitching up into that small, cocky smile, one that told her he knew exactly what she was feeling. And that he liked it.

And just like that, he was gone, leaving Beatrice standing in the copier room, her heart racing and her body humming with the promise of something more.

She returned to her desk, still feeling the heat of the moment lingering on her skin. But when she sat down, something unexpected caught her eye. There, lying on the edge of her desk, was a single playing card. The Queen of Hearts. Beatrice stared at it, confused, her fingers tracing the edges of the card.

What was it doing here? She hadn't seen anyone leave it. Before she could process it any further, Rowan appeared beside her, his presence catching her off guard.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice carrying a casual friendliness, but there was something off in the way his eyes lingered a little too long, a bit too expectant. It almost felt like he was watching her, searching for something.

Beatrice smiled, trying to shake the strange feeling that had settled in her chest. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a lot on my mind today."

Rowan's expression shifted slightly, his smile widening in a way that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Seems like you've been getting pretty close with the others around here." His words were light, but there was an edge to them, a hint of something deeper that Beatrice couldn't quite pin down. "I don't always see you much."

She glanced at him, picking up on the subtle trace of loneliness in his words. For a second, she almost felt sorry for him. He seemed a little out of place, always on the outskirts of the office buzz, never fully a part of the casual conversations that flowed so easily between the others. Her sympathy for him softened her voice, the kindness in her tone almost instinctive.

"Oh, I didn't realize," she said, offering him a gentle smile. "I'm still getting used to everything here, but you should definitely join in when we all grab lunch or hang out after work. It's always fun."

His face relaxed slightly, but there was still a shadow behind his eyes. It was like he wanted to believe her, wanted to step into that world, but something held him back. Beatrice kept her smile in place, genuinely meaning what she'd said but also slightly naive to the tension she was unknowingly stirring.

"I'll keep that in mind," he replied, his voice soft but polite. "Thanks, Beatrice. Are you sure you're alright?"

Beatrice was slightly thrown off at this as she hadn't felt that she was acting in any way that would justify his concern. "I'm fine."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Beatrice with an odd, lingering sense that she had missed something in their interaction. But her thoughts quickly drifted back to River, the charged moment in the copier room replaying in her head. The card in her desk drawer felt like a loose thread in the midst of it all, something she couldn't quite piece together yet.