Chapter 21
Chapter 21:
A sharp click echoed through the quiet.
Instead of ledgers or company secrets, a hidden compartment revealed a single scroll, carefully wrapped in protective paper.
Curiosity tightening in her chest, she unfolded it—and her eyes widened in shock.
They were her early sketches from the national design newcomers’ competition, the work she had submitted back in her sophomore year.
The memory of those drafts was etched sharply in her mind. On the night of the exhibition, a sudden blaze had devoured her booth, reducing every original sketch to ash. She had even lost the USB drive that held her copy.
She had resigned herself to believing her work was gone forever, yet here—tucked away in Austin’s study—the designs had resurfaced like a ghost from her past.
The pages were softly yellowed at the edges, but they were astonishingly well preserved.
“What are you doing here?” A cool, unhurried voice broke the silence from the doorway.
𝗨p𝖽a𝗍e𝗌 𝖾𝘷𝖾𝗋𝘆 𝘸𝗲е𝗄 oո
Brinley’s fingers jolted, nearly letting the fragile pages slip.
She turned in alarm to find Austin leaning casually against the doorframe—somehow back already.
His jacket was gone, leaving him in a crisp white shirt. His cufflinks had been undone, his sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal lean, corded forearms. In the warm glow of the study light, the faint scar near his wrist showed as a soft pink line, catching her eye.
His sudden presence nearly stopped Brinley’s heart. How could a man that tall move without making a sound?
“Mr. Moore?” Brinley blurted, startled. She hastily tucked the sketches behind her back, her pulse racing. “Didn’t you say you were heading to the company p>
Austin arched a brow as he stepped inside. His movements were soundless, as if he drifted rather than walked.
“I left a file behind.” His gaze slid to the hand she was hiding, and a faintly amused curve touched his lips. “Enjoying yourself in my study p>
Heat crept across Brinley’s cheeks. Unease pricked at her, but she straightened her spine. “I was only looking around,” she said quickly.
Then, with deliberate defiance, she brought the sketches out and lifted her chin. “But hiding my sketches—don’t you think that crosses the line into invading my privacy p>
Austin’s gaze lowered to the papers. His expression didn’t change, as if she were holding nothing more than a stack of invoices. “I found them by chance,” he said, calm and detached, almost lazy. “They had a certain spark. I thought they might tie in with a project at Moore Group p>
“Oh?” Brinley’s eyes narrowed, a sharper edge slipping into her tone. “Since when do you pay attention to university students’ designs p>
“Anything with potential tends to draw my attention,” Austin replied smoothly.
His voice dipped lower as he reached for the sketches. His fingers brushed hers—deliberate, unhurried.
The brief contact made Brinley flinch as if she’d touched a flame.
Austin’s quiet laugh followed. “What’s wrong? Something bothering you p>
Brinley tightened her grip, rolling the sketches and pressing them firmly against her chest.
…his chest. Her chin lifted in defiance. “Well, it feels like more than a coincidence that the designs you admire happen to belong to me p>
Austin’s gaze dropped to where her hand pressed against him. His Adam’s apple bobbed once, and then he stepped closer without warning.
Brinley stumbled back until the edge of the desk halted her retreat, trapping her between its hard corner and his towering frame.
The air shifted. Cedar and clean linen wrapped around her senses. From this distance, she could even make out the faint shadows his lashes cast along his cheek.
“It does feel like quite the coincidence,” Austin said, his voice dropping lower, heavy with an almost suffocating intensity. “Tell me, Brinley… are you doubting me p>