5. The Kiss I Shouldn’t Have Stolen

INDIGO

I arrived at FanHub at exactly 8:30 a.m.

No rushing. No excuses. I had made sure of that. On my way back from my parents’ house on Sunday, I stopped at a store and bought a new alarm clock. I laid out my outfit the night before, like a soldier preparing for battle.

This morning I woke up, took a long shower, concealed my brows, did my lip combo, and slipped into a khaki handkerchief skirt that swayed with every step, an off-shoulder white top that showed just a hint of collarbone, and brown leather boots that gave me height and confidence.

I wasn’t going to give Dario Cross any reason to call me out again.

The top floor was already buzzing when I stepped off the elevator. A few people gave me sympathetic looks — quick, pitying glances that made my stomach twist. Word had clearly spread about last week’s public execution. I kept my head high, refusing to shrink.

At the reception desk sat a woman who looked to be in her early thirties. She was visibly pregnant, glowing in a soft floral dress with ballerina flats and a knitted cream sweater draped over her shoulders. Her brunette hair was pulled into a loose, pretty bun.

She smiled warmly as I approached. “You must be Indigo Derrin. I’m Cathy. Welcome back.”

I returned the smile, a little surprised by how kind she seemed. “Thank you. And… sorry about last week.”

Cathy waved a hand, her other resting gently on her bump. “Don’t apologize. We all saw what happened. It was rough. I’m sorry you had to go through that on your first day.” She stood up slowly. “Come on, I’ll show you around and take you to your office.”

I blinked. “I have an office?”

Cathy chuckled, a warm, motherly sound. “Yes, you do. You’ll be working under both Dario and Caleb. You’re the only new hire in your field, and they’re the best at what they do here. Just think of the pay at the end of the day, not the hard labor,” she finished with a small laugh.

I laughed softly, too, grateful for her lightness. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

As we walked, I couldn’t help but compliment her. “You’re glowing, by the way. Your husband must be treating you really well.”

Cathy’s smile faltered for half a second, then returned full force, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I wish I was. The son of a bitch left me at the altar, running away with his childhood bestie.”

I winced. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed—”

She brushed it off with a gentle wave. “It’s all good, honey. Life happens. See you at lunch?”

I nodded. “Definitely.”

Cathy waddled away in her floral dress, leaving me standing in front of a sleek glass door with my nameplate already on it.

Indigo Derrin – Junior Sports Writer.

I pushed the door open, stepped inside, and shut it behind me with a huge smile.

My own office.

It was a decent-sized room with a big window overlooking the city, a modern desk, dual monitors, shelves already stocked with reference books and notepads, a small sofa in the corner, and even my own water dispenser.

No more cramped cubicles. No more sharing a tiny space with twelve other people fighting for air.

I shivered just thinking about my last job. Ten desks. Thirteen people. Three of them with the kind of body and mouth odor that could clear a room. I used to hold my breath every time I had to walk past their stations. Life there had been hell.

Here? Life will be really good.

I pulled out my phone, angled it for the perfect shot of my new desk and the city view behind it, and snapped a quick selfie with a big, genuine smile.

I sent it to the family group chat with my parents. #Officially my first day at work, and I have my own officeeee.

The moment I hit send, the landline on my desk rang.

I was startled so hard I nearly dropped my phone. I caught it at the last second, heart racing, and cleared my throat before picking up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“My office. Now.”

That was Dario.

I dropped the receiver like it burned me, shoved my phone into my skirt pocket, and stood up on shaky legs.

I took a deep breath, smoothed down my skirt, and headed toward his office. I hadn’t even made it halfway down the hall when I ran into Caleb.

The moment our eyes met, the biggest smile broke out on my face. He matched it — warm, genuine, and instantly comforting.

“Indigo,” he said, stopping in front of me. “You’re back. You look great.”

I felt my cheeks heat up. “Thank you. You look great too.”

And he really did. He was wearing a perfectly tailored khaki Canali suit that complemented his gentle presence perfectly. My eyes caught on a tiny, elegant brooch pinned to his lapel — a limited edition, customized piece I recognized immediately.

“Oh my God,” I breathed, eyes widening. “You’re wearing the limited edition Van Cleef & Arpels brooch? And it’s customized? I’ve been trying to get my hands on one of those for like forever, but they only sell it as part of a three-set package. That would require me selling an organ.”

Caleb looked surprised for a second, then let out a real, warm laugh that made his eyes crinkle. “Not only do you know sports, but you know your fashion well,” he said, clearly impressed.

I chuckled, blushing harder. “What can I say? I have expensive taste and zero budget.”

He laughed again — a full, genuine sound — and before I could protest, he reached up, un-pinned the brooch, and carefully fastened it to the collar of my off-shoulder white top.

“Now you don’t have to sell an organ,” he said softly, stepping back to admire it.

“I can’t accept this,” I protested, touching the delicate piece.

“Just take it as your ‘I hope you enjoy working here’ gift.”

I smiled, genuinely touched. “I will. Thank you, Mr. Cross. You just made my day.”

I brought my hand up for a high five. He met it with a laugh, his palm warm against mine.

Before I could say anything else, I remembered why I was in the hallway in the first place. Dario had called me.

The smile on my face faded just a little. “I should go,” I said. “Mr. Cross summoned me.”

Caleb winced in sympathy. “Good luck. Try not to let him get to you.”

I nodded and continued down the hall toward Dario’s office, the little brooch on my collar feeling like both a comfort and a secret rebellion.

I pushed open the door and stepped inside, closing it behind me with a soft click.

Dario was sitting on the edge of his desk when I walked in, sleeves rolled to his forearms, arms folded across his chest. He didn’t tell me to sit. He didn’t even greet me.

His eyes settled on the brooch pinned to my blouse.

“I see you’re already comfortable enough with my brother for him to start giving you his jewelry.”

My fingers instinctively brushed over it. I glanced toward the glass walls behind him.

From this office, he had a perfect view of the hallway. He had watched the entire thing.

I looked back at him. “So that’s what this is about?”

He didn’t answer.

He pushed himself off the desk and walked behind it with the same infuriating calm he seemed to carry everywhere. Opening one of the folders on his desk, he pulled out a thick file before extending it toward me.

I took it.

“Tonight you’re covering the Kings versus Kraken game,” he said. “I want a complete post-game analysis. Don’t tell me who scored. Everyone watching the game already knows that. Tell me why the game unfolded the way it did. Break down the coaching decisions, the line changes, momentum swings, defensive matchups, and the players who quietly changed the outcome without making the highlight reels.”

I opened the file, already scanning through the match notes and media schedule.

“You’ll be working alongside the camera crew and production team. When you’re done, submit your article to Caleb.”

I looked up. “He’ll review it first?”

“He’ll edit it, challenge your conclusions if he disagrees, and send it back if it’s weak.”

“And then?”

“Once Caleb signs off on it, it comes to me.”

I nodded slowly. “And if you don’t like it?”

“Then you’ll rewrite it.”

I couldn’t help myself. “So basically I have to survive two Cross brothers before I can go home.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, although it disappeared almost immediately.

“If your writing is good enough, you’ll only have to survive one draft.”

He folded his arms again, studying me with that unreadable expression that always made me feel like I was being assessed instead of spoken to.

He took a step, stopping directly in front of me. “Anyone can have potential. I reward results.”

I should have stepped back.

Instead, I found myself standing there, looking up at him, painfully aware of how close he was.

“You’re standing too close.” I muttered.

“I wasn’t aware there was a company policy on personal space.”

“There should be.”

“There probably should.”

I took one careful step backwards. The heel of my boot caught the leg of the chair behind me.

“Oh—”

My balance disappeared.

The file slipped from my hands, papers exploding across the carpet as I stumbled.

Before I could hit the floor, an arm circled my waist. His grip was firm, effortlessly holding me upright as though I weighed nothing.

Instinctively, my hands fisted in the front of his shirt. I could feel his hand against the small of my waist.

Feel the warmth of his body through our clothes. Feel his breath brushing across my lips every time he exhaled.

Slowly, almost against his own will, his eyes drifted down to my mouth.

My pulse stumbled.

“Damn it,” he murmured so quietly I almost didn’t hear it. Then his eyes lifted back to mine. “Indigo…”

The way he said my name undid something inside me. Almost reverent, like he’d been trying not to say it for far too long.

Before I could think—I closed the remaining distance.

Our lips met gently at first, tentatively.

His hand tightened at my waist, drawing me closer as he kissed me deeper, and every bit of the anger that had filled me minutes ago dissolved into something dangerously intoxicating.

He tasted of coffee and mint.

God.

This was nothing like I’d imagined. I liked it far more than I should have.

Then Leah’s face flashed through my mind. The realization hit me like a splash of cold water.

I jerked away so suddenly his hand fell from my waist.

“Oh my God…” I pressed trembling fingers against my lips. “I’m sorry. I… I shouldn’t have done that.”

I dropped to my knees to gather the scattered papers, desperate for something to do besides look at him.

In my haste, I lifted my head too quickly.

Thunk.

The edge of his desk caught me squarely on the forehead. “Ow!”

I squeezed my eyes shut.

Before I could recover, Dario was crouching beside me. “Let me see.”

His hand reached toward my face.

I almost let him, but I remembered whose ring sat on Leah’s finger.

I leaned away. “I’m fine.”

“You just hit your—”

“I’m fine.”

I shoved the papers back into the file with far less care than they deserved, stood so quickly I nearly lost my balance again, and clutched the folder against my chest.

Without meeting his eyes, I headed for the door.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered one last time.

Then I walked out.

I didn’t stop until I reached my office. A tiny, traitorous smile pulled at the corner of my mouth.