"Glen," he said, his voice losing its morning warmth and taking on a more formal, guarded tone. "I was not aware you would be here this morning." His icy blue eyes darted back toward Harpers bedroom door, a flicker of panic crossing his features. The comfortable intimacy of moment ago evaporated completely as CEO mode kicked in automatically. "I got in early this morning," Glen said causally and headed toward the fridge, opening the door slightly. "I am surprised too, Harper has never brough a guy home before." He took a small yogurt contained out of the fridge and closed the door, turning to look at Oliver.
Oliver's jaw tightened at the mention of Harper, his posture becoming more rigid as he processed Glen's casual revelation. The fact that she had never brought anyone home before sent a strange mix of pride and possessiveness through him, even as his professional instincts screamed at him to handle this situation gracefully. "I see," he said, his voice taking on its usual measured tone despite the personal nature of the conversation. "Well, I apologize for the unexpected intrusion into your living space. It was not planned." He ran a hand through his messy black hair, trying to look presentable despite wearing yesterday's suit and being caught off guard. "Harper and I have been– working closely together lately on– on some projects. Things got late last night." Glen leaned against the counter, popping open his yogurt with a cheerful expression that seemed completely oblivious to Oliver's internal turmoil.
"You don't have to be so formal," Glen said as he scooped up some of the yogurt with a spoon. "I don't judge." He takes a bite of the yogurt. Oliver's shoulders relaxed slightly at Glen's casual dismissal of formality, though his posture remained somewhat stiff out of habit. Harper enters the kitchen wearing a black formal, tailored women suit. The fitted blazer she was wearing is tailored closely to her body and features a single-button closer at the waist, creating a slightly cinched shape that emphasized her waistline. Under the blazer she is wearing a satin, white V-neck top, with a deep but modest neckline. Instead of wearing her usual pencil skirts or dresses, the is wearing black tailored suit trousers, with a slim, slightly tapered fit.
The sight of her emerging from her bedroom in her professional attire sent a jolt of something possessive through him– seeing her dressed for work while he stood there in yesterday's wrinkled skirt. "Good morning," Oliver responded more naturally, his hand moving instinctively to rest on the small of her back as she approached. The gesture was both protective and proprietary, claiming her subtly in front of her roommate. Glen watched the interaction with amused interest, popping another spoonful of yogurt into his mouth. "Wow, you two look like you are heading to a board meeting instead of breakfast," he commented with a grin. "Don't you ever relax?" Oliver's lips quirked at the observation. "We are both workaholics apparently," he admitted, glancing down at Harper with a softer expression that he had shown Glen so far.
"What happened with your date yesterday?" Harper asked Glen as she added two spoons of sugar to the coffee cup Oliver had already poured. Gen sighted dramatically. "Everything was going fine until his wife showed up," he complained playfully. Oliver's eyebrows shot up at Glen's casual mention of infidelity, his grip tightening almost imperceptibly on Harper's waist. The reminder of age gaps and complicated relationships hung heavy in the air for a moment before he forced a neutral expression. "I suppose that explains why you were here so early," Oliver remarked dryly, picking up his own mug of black coffee. "At least you found somewhere safe to land." His tone carried a hint of sarcasm directed at Glen's dating misfortunes, though his mind was clearly processing how this morning's encounter might reflect on his relationship with someone young enough to have roommates complaining about married men. Harper stirred her coffee thoughtfully, observing the dynamics between the two men now sharing her kitchen space.
"I should have known," Glen said dramatically. "He looked at the models for a moment too long. I was just hoping he was serious about photography." Glen finished the yogurt cup. Oliver snorted into his coffee mug, the sound sharp and dismissive. "Photography? More like photographing other women while his wife is waiting at home. Classic move." His hand slid from Harper's waist to rest possessively on the curve of her hip, a subtle claim staking his territory in front of Glen. The action was unconscious; born of territorial instinct Oliver had not realized her possessed until now. "At least you learned your lesson," he continued, taking a sip of his black coffee. "Some people never do." The implication hung in the air– that he considered himself different from the kind of man who would cheat on his partner. His icy blue eyes met hers over the rim of his mug, searching for her reaction to this declaration of loyalty. Meanwhile, Glen rinsed out his yogurt contained and tossed it into the recycling bin with practiced efficiency. "Lesson learned indeed," he agreed cheerfully.
"You don't know any handsomely rugged older gentleman who might swing my way?" Glen asked hopefully. Oliver's grip on Harper's hip tightened almost imperceptibly at Glen's hopeful question, a flicker of something possessive crossing his features before he masked it with a neutral expression. He set his coffee mug down on the counter with a deliberate click. "I might know a few," he answered slowly, his tone measured. "But they are all workaholics like me. Not exactly the type to commit to anything serious." His thumb began tracing idle patterns on her hipbone beneath the fabric of her suit jacket, a subtle gesture of ownership that contradicted his casual tone. "Besides, most of them are too set in their ways to appreciate someone as– energetic as you." Glen propped himself against the counter again, clearly intrigued by Oliver's assessment. "Energetic?" he echoed mostly to himself. "I guess I am."