The days that followed slipped into an almost suspicious calm.
Denisse fell into her rhythm easily, efficiency becoming muscle memory. She anticipated needs before they were voiced, prepared briefs before they were requested, and smoothed over small gaps left behind by the transition. It was the kind of work she'd always been good at, the kind Lesley's father had once praised her for with quiet approval.
And Lesley—
Lesley worked just as hard to keep up.
She buried herself in reports, meetings, and handovers, absorbing everything her father had left behind. She asked questions. Took notes. Stayed late. The chaos Denisse had come to expect was, for once, restrained.
Too restrained.
And their war?
It felt like it had paused. Not ended. Paused.
That was what bothered Denisse the most.
She sat at her desk, posture straight, eyes on her screen, but her thoughts were nowhere near the numbers in front of her. Her gaze flicked, almost involuntarily, toward the glass wall of the CEO's office.
Nothing.
Too quiet.
Knowing Lesley, Denisse thought, she wouldn't just let things slide.
Not the phone call. Not the rant. Not the things Denisse wasn't even sure had been overheard.
Her fingers tapped lightly against the desk.
"Why isn't she doing anything?" she murmured under her breath. "Did she really not hear it...?"
"There you go again," a familiar voice said cheerfully. "Talking to yourself again in the middle of the workday."
Denisse jumped slightly.
Gigi stood in front of her desk, coffee in hand, eyebrows lifted in amusement.
"I'm thinking," Denisse replied flatly.
"That's never a good sign," Gigi said, pulling up the edge of the desk and leaning against it. "What doesn't add up now?"
Denisse leaned in and lowered her voice. "Everything is too smooth. Ms. Chaos in there isn't making a single move."
Gigi followed her gaze toward the office, then shrugged. "Isn't that... good? Peaceful? Maybe she really didn't hear your dramatic monologue that night."
"Maybe," Denisse said. "But I'm not lowering my guard."
She exhaled slowly. "You know what they say. Calm before the storm. And knowing her—" she shook her head. "She doesn't accept defeat."
Gigi hummed thoughtfully. "Fair. But maybe she's tired. Or maybe she decided being a functional CEO is more important than petty revenge." She smirked. "Besides, she actually looks pretty impressive lately."
Denisse rolled her eyes. "Oh, so you've switched sides now?"
"Absolutely not," Gigi said. "I'll always support you. I just... have eyes. And the CEO happens to be offensively attractive."
"We'll see," Denisse muttered. "I'm not buying the truce yet."
Before Gigi could respond, the door to the CEO's office opened.
Lesley stepped out.
And for a split second, the world slowed.
Denisse didn't mean to look. She really didn't. But her eyes followed the movement anyway. The way Lesley's hair shifted as she walked, catching the light. The easy smile she gave Gigi in greeting. The way the tailored pantsuit fit her like it belonged there, like she belonged there.
Stop.
Denisse shook her head almost imperceptibly.
What was that?
"Denisse," Lesley said, voice smooth, businesslike. "Can you have these documents scanned and send me the electronic copies? I'll be in the COO's office. If anyone looks for me, let them know."
"Yes, Ms. Ashford," Denisse replied automatically.
"I can walk with you, Ms. Ashford," Gigi chimed in. "I'm heading back to my boss's office anyway."
"Sure," Lesley said, smiling. "Let's go."
They turned to leave.
As they walked away, Gigi glanced back over her shoulder and mouthed dramatically, She's mine for now.
Denisse snorted softly and rolled her eyes.
When she sat back down, the office seemed louder again. Or maybe that was just her thoughts returning all at once.
Why was she noticing so much lately?
Why did her gaze linger?
Why did she register details she used to ignore?
Nope, she told herself firmly. Enemy. Remember?
The idea that it could be something else tried to surface. Something unnamed. Something inconvenient.
She crushed it immediately.
Denisse straightened, turned back to her computer, and began scanning the documents with practiced precision.
Whatever this was—
She wasn't letting it distract her.
Not now.
Not ever.
--
Later that evening, Denisse stood beneath the steady warmth of her shower, letting the water drum against her shoulders until the tension of the day finally began to loosen. The office, the quiet truce, the way Lesley's presence lingered in her mind longer than it should have—all of it slowly washed down the drain.
She shut the water off and stepped out, wrapping a towel around herself as steam clung to the mirror and the air felt soft and heavy. She reached for her phone on the counter just as it began to ring.
Mr. Ashford.
Denisse paused for half a second, then answered.
"Hello, Mr. Ashford. How are you?" Her voice slipped easily into its familiar, respectful cadence.
"Hello, Denisse," Anthony Ashford said warmly. "I'm doing well. And you? I hope my daughter hasn't been giving you too much of a headache."
Denisse smiled faintly, pressing the towel more securely around her shoulders.
If you only knew, sir.
"Oh no, Mr. Ashford," she said smoothly. "She's been... just as capable as you were."
There was a quiet sigh on the other end of the line. "Lesley is smart. Smarter than she realizes, honestly. I know she can surpass me one day. It's just—" He hesitated. "She wasn't supposed to step into this role so suddenly. That's what worries me. But she doesn't have a choice anymore."
Denisse leaned against the counter, listening carefully. "I understand, sir. But she's handling it well. The transition has been smooth, and she's already earned the board's trust."
That seemed to ease him. His voice softened. "I hope it continues that way. And Denisse... I need to ask you something."
"Yes, sir."
"Please give her the same support you gave me when I was still your boss. Do everything you can."
Denisse didn't hesitate. "You don't need to ask, sir. I'll do everything I can to help her. In any way she needs."
"Thank you," Anthony said sincerely. "I'm truly grateful you're part of this company. And that you have such a... good working relationship with my daughter."
Denisse bit back a smile.
If you only knew the things your daughter has put me through.
"Of course, sir."
"I won't keep you any longer," he continued. "It's late. You two have an out-of-town conference tomorrow."
"Yes, sir."
"And Denisse," he added gently, "if you ever need anything—anything at all—don't hesitate to ask."
"That's very kind of you, sir. Thank you."
"Get some rest, dear. Good luck at the conference tomorrow. Take care of my daughter. And yourself."
"Yes, sir. Good night."
The call ended, leaving the apartment quiet again.
Denisse stared at her phone for a moment, something warm and heavy settling in her chest. Pride, maybe. Or responsibility. Or both.
Even if her current boss was her self-proclaimed enemy—even if Lesley Ashford had made her sweep an entire building for a hair clip that had been in her pocket all along—Denisse still gave everything she had to her work.
She always had.
She dried her hair, moving through her nighttime routine with practiced familiarity. Cleanser. Serum. Moisturizer. The small, grounding rituals helped calm her racing thoughts.
When she finally slipped into bed, the sheets cool against her skin, her body ached pleasantly with exhaustion.
Tomorrow would come early.
Tomorrow, it would just be her and Lesley—away from the office, away from witnesses.
Denisse closed her eyes, unaware that sleep would come far more easily than expected.
Or that the calm wouldn't last.