There are three cardinal rules to maintaining a secret office romance at a major advertising agency.
Rule Number One: Never arrive at the building at the exact same time. (Stagger your entrances by at least twelve minutes, and if you accidentally share an elevator, stare blankly at your phones like strangers). Rule Number Two: Do not use the company Slack channel for anything other than strictly professional communication. (IT can read everything, and IT loves gossip more than anyone else in the building). Rule Number Three: The supply closet is a rookie mistake. It is poorly ventilated, smells like toner, and is the most frequently visited
room on the floor.
Ava Reynolds knew all of these rules. She had literally written them down in the back of her leather notebook.
And yet, at 2:15 p.m. on a Thursday, she found herself backed against a towering stack of printer paper in the supply closet, Ethan’s mouth hot and demanding against her neck.
“We are breaking Rule Number Three,” Ava gasped, her hands tangled in his dark hair.
“I don’t care about Rule Number Three,” Ethan murmured, his lips trailing up her jawline. His hands were gripping her waist, his thumbs slipping under the hem of her silk blouse to stroke the bare skin of her stomach. “I haven’t been alone with you in four hours. I was starting to experience withdrawal symptoms.”
“You saw me in the kitchen ten minutes ago,” Ava pointed out, though she was currently tilting her head back to give him better access to her pulse point.
“Sarah was there,” Ethan argued, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Sarah is always there. I am beginning to suspect she has a tracking device on you.”
“She’s my junior strategist. It’s her job to shadow me.” Ava pulled his face up to hers, kissing him deeply. The thrill of the secret, the danger of being caught, made the chemistry between them burn even hotter. It was intoxicating. It was exhausting. It was the best two weeks of her life.
Since the afternoon in the Zen Den, they had fallen into a frantic, hidden rhythm. They were the perfect, professional co-leads in public, and completely, hopelessly tangled together in private. They spent their evenings at her apartment, eating takeout on the couch while Pixel the beagle slept on Ethan’s feet. They spent their mornings stealing glances across the bullpen.
“We have to go back out there,” Ava whispered against his lips, though she made absolutely no move to push him away. “Kline wants the revised budget by three.”
“Give me one more minute,” Ethan groaned, burying his face in her neck.
The door to the supply closet suddenly swung open.
Ava and Ethan sprang apart with the speed and coordination of a highly trained tactical unit. Ava grabbed a ream of printer paper, holding it to her chest like a shield. Ethan spun around, aggressively inspecting a box of blue highlighters.
Julian Vance stood in the doorway. He was wearing a faded vintage band t-shirt and holding an empty coffee mug. He looked at Ava, clutching the printer paper. He looked at Ethan, who was breathing heavily and holding a highlighter upside down.
Julian took a slow sip from his empty mug.
“I just came in for some staples,” Julian drawled, his voice dripping with dry, unbothered amusement. “But please, don’t let me interrupt the ‘budget review’. It looks very… rigorous.”
Ava’s face burned with the heat of a thousand suns. “We were just looking for the heavy-stock card paper.”
“Right,” Julian said, stepping into the closet and grabbing a box of staples from the shelf next to Ethan’s head. “Just a tip, Hayes. You have a smudge of Ruby Woo lipstick on your collar. You might want to handle that before you go back out into the bullpen. Sarah has a radar for that specific shade.”
Ethan looked down at his collar, swearing softly under his breath. Julian turned and walked out of the closet, pausing in the doorway.
“For the record, I have fifty bucks riding on you two making a dramatic public declaration. Try not to blow my payout by getting caught in a closet that smells like ink cartridges.”
The door clicked shut.
Ava dropped the ream of paper onto a shelf and buried her face in her hands. “We are terrible at this. We are the worst secret agents in the history of corporate espionage.”
Ethan chuckled, using his thumb to rub the lipstick smudge off his collar. “Julian won’t say anything. He enjoys knowing things other people don’t. It makes him feel mysterious.”
“Sarah is going to figure it out,” Ava groaned. “And when she does, she is going to murder me for not telling her.”
“Then let’s tell her,” Ethan suggested gently, stepping back into her space and wrapping his arms around her waist. “Let’s tell everyone. We don’t have to hide, Ava. There’s no agency policy against co-leads dating.”
“It’s not about HR,” Ava said, resting her forehead against his chest. “It’s about the pitch. If the Bean & Leaf board finds out we’re sleeping together, they’ll think our unified concept is just a byproduct of us hooking up. They won’t take the strategy seriously. We have to keep it quiet until the contract is signed.”
Ethan sighed, kissing the top of her head. “Fine. We keep it quiet until the ink is dry. But the second that contract is signed, I am taking you to the most expensive restaurant in this city and kissing you in front of the entire waitstaff.”
“Deal,” Ava smiled, looking up at him. “Now go. Staggered exits.
Rule Number One.”
Ethan kissed her one last time, quick and hard, before slipping out of the supply closet.
Ava waited exactly three minutes, counting the seconds in her head, before walking out into the hallway. She smoothed her blouse, took a deep breath, and marched back into the bullpen, projecting an aura of absolute professional calm.
The calm lasted for exactly twelve seconds. “Ava!”
Sarah was sprinting across the bullpen, her heels clicking frantically against the hardwood floor. She looked like she had just seen a ghost, or possibly a very alarming spreadsheet.
“What’s wrong?” Ava asked, her heart dropping into her stomach. “Did the client reject the budget?”
“Worse,” Sarah gasped, grabbing Ava’s arm and dragging her toward their pod. “So much worse. It’s Tyler.”
“What did Tyler do? Did he microwave another fork?”
“He went viral,” Sarah said, shoving her phone into Ava’s face. Ava blinked, staring at the glowing screen. It was a TikTok video.
In the video, Tyler the Intern was standing in his cramped apartment kitchen. He was wearing the dark green, canvas Bean & Leaf barista apron that Julian had designed as a prototype for the new uniform. Tyler was holding a whisk like a microphone and lip-syncing passionately to a sped-up version of a 2000s pop punk song, while simultaneously attempting to aggressively froth a bowl of milk.
The video was chaotic, hilarious, and deeply endearing. It also had 4.2 million views.
“Okay,” Ava said slowly, her brain struggling to process the numbers. “He made a funny video. Why is this a crisis?”
“Look at the comments,” Sarah urged, swiping down. Ava read the top comments.
@CoffeeQueen99: Wait, is that a new Bean & Leaf apron? It looks so good!@ChiTownHustle: Who is this man and what Bean & Leaf does he work at? I need to go there immediately.@MarketingBro: Did Bean & Leaf just leak their own rebrand? Genius.@SarahsBurnerAcct: I would let this barista ruin my life.
“They think he’s a real barista,” Ava realized, the horror finally setting in. “They think this is a guerrilla marketing campaign for the rebrand.”
“He’s the number one trending topic in Chicago right now,” Sarah said, her voice tight with panic. “They’re calling him ‘Bean Boy’. Buzzfeed just published an article trying to track down which store he works at. Ava, the Bean & Leaf board is going to see this. We haven’t even pitched the final visual assets yet, and Tyler just leaked the uniform to four million people!”
“Where is he?” Ava demanded.
“He’s hiding under his desk,” Sarah pointed to the intern pod. “He’s terrified Kline is going to fire him.”
“Get Ethan,” Ava ordered, her strategic brain kicking into overdrive. The secret romance was instantly forgotten, replaced by the cold, hard adrenaline of a PR crisis. “Get Ethan, get Julian, and get Tyler out from under his desk. Conference Room B. Five minutes.”
Ten minutes later, the crisis team was assembled in the Thunderdome.
Tyler was sitting at the end of the mahogany table, looking like he was about to face a firing squad. He was still wearing the prototype apron.
“I’m so sorry,” Tyler whimpered, burying his face in his hands. “I just thought the apron made my shoulders look broad. I didn’t think anyone would actually watch it. My usual TikToks only get twelve views, and most of those are my mom.”
“Tyler, breathe,” Ethan said calmly, leaning against the whiteboard. “You’re not fired.”
“I might fire him,” Julian noted from the corner, sketching in his notebook. “He completely ruined the reveal of the canvas texture.”
“Nobody is firing anyone,” Ava said, pacing at the head of the table. She looked at the video playing on a loop on Sarah’s phone. “Okay. The board is going to be furious that the uniform leaked. But… look at the engagement. Four million views. Ninety-eight percent positive sentiment. They love the apron. They love the energy.”
“It’s authentic,” Ethan agreed, catching Ava’s eye. He saw exactly where her brain was going. “It’s not polished. It’s chaotic and human. It’s exactly the kind of organic reach brands pay millions of dollars to manufacture.”
“We don’t apologize,” Ava said, stopping her pacing. She looked at Ethan, the professional synergy snapping perfectly into place. “We lean in.”
“We make him the face of the teaser campaign,” Ethan finished, a
slow, brilliant smile spreading across his face. “Wait, what?” Tyler squeaked, looking up.
“Sarah,” Ava barked, pointing at her best friend. “Draft a press release. ‘Bean & Leaf embraces the chaos of the morning hustle.’ We officially claim Tyler as our own. We announce that the apron is a sneak peek of the new era.”
“Julian,” Ethan added, “can you mock up a graphic for the official Bean & Leaf Instagram? Something that says ‘Bean Boy Approved’?”
“I can do it in ten minutes,” Julian said, not looking up from his sketchbook. “But I’m charging double my hourly rate for having to type the words ‘Bean Boy’.”
“Do it,” Ava said. She looked at Tyler. “Tyler, you are going to make a follow-up video. You are going to wear the apron, and you are going to announce that Bean & Leaf is officially launching their new app next month. You are going to tell four million people that the new app is going to make their mornings completely frictionless.”
Tyler stared at her, his mouth hanging open. “You… you want me to be an influencer?”
“I want you to save this account,” Ava corrected. “Can you do the lip-sync thing again, but this time while holding a phone with the app wireframe on it?”
“I can lip-sync to anything,” Tyler said, sitting up straighter, a sudden spark of determination in his eyes. “I was the understudy for Troy Bolton in my high school production of High School Musical.”
“Perfect,” Ethan said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s get to work.”
For the next three hours, Conference Room B was a war room. They moved with terrifying, synchronized efficiency. Ava drafted the narrative, Ethan prepped the app visuals for the video, Sarah handled the media outreach, and Julian designed the graphics.
By 5:00 p.m., the follow-up video was live. By 6:00 p.m., it had a million views.
By 7:00 p.m., Marcus Kline walked into the conference room, holding his phone. He looked at the exhausted, adrenaline-fueled team sitting around the table.
“The CEO of Bean & Leaf just called me,” Kline said, his gruff voice echoing in the quiet room.
Ava held her breath. She glanced at Ethan, who reached under the table and gently squeezed her knee.
“He said,” Kline continued, a slow, massive grin breaking across his face, “that the ‘Bean Boy’ teaser is the most innovative, agile piece of marketing he’s seen in a decade. He loved it. The board loved it. They want Tyler at the official launch party.”
Tyler let out a loud, triumphant sob and dropped his head onto the table.
“Brilliant pivot, Reynolds,” Kline said, nodding at Ava. “Hayes, good work integrating the app reveal. Go home, all of you. You earned it.”
An hour later, Ava and Ethan were sitting on the floor of Ava’s living room, eating cold sesame noodles straight out of the takeout containers. Pixel was asleep on the rug between them, occasionally twitching his paws as he dreamed.
The adrenaline of the PR crisis had faded, leaving behind a warm, comfortable exhaustion.
“I can’t believe that worked,” Ava laughed, leaning her head against the edge of the sofa. “We turned a massive NDA violation into a viral marketing triumph. Tyler is going to be insufferable tomorrow.”
“He’s already insufferable,” Ethan smiled, taking a bite of his noodles. “He asked Julian if he could design him a personal logo. Julian looked like he wanted to throw him out the window.”
Ava laughed, the sound bright and genuine in the quiet apartment. She looked at Ethan. He was wearing a faded grey t-shirt, his hair messy, sitting on her rug like he had always belonged there.
The contrast between this warm, domestic reality and the sterile glass box of his corporate apartment was staggering.
“You were amazing today,” Ethan said softly, setting his takeout container on the coffee table. He shifted closer to her, his knee brushing against hers. “The way you took control of that room. You didn’t even blink. You just saw the angle and executed it.”
“I had a good team,” Ava said, her heart doing that familiar, fluttery
flip.
“You’re going to be an incredible Vice President, Ava,” Ethan said,
his voice filled with absolute, unwavering certainty. He reached out, his fingers gently tracing the line of her jaw. “Kline would be an idiot not to give it to you.”
Ava leaned into his touch, closing her eyes. The VP promotion. It was the dream she had been chasing for six years. It was the reason she had stayed in Chicago, the reason she had worked eighty-hour weeks, the reason she had built her life here.
And for the first time, the thought of it didn’t just bring her joy. It brought a tiny, sharp prick of anxiety.
Because if she got the VP role, her life was going to change. And she wasn’t entirely sure how Ethan Hayes was going to fit into it.
“Ethan?” Ava whispered, opening her eyes to look at him.
“Yeah?” he murmured, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth.
“Nothing,” Ava said, pushing the anxiety away and pulling him closer. “Just… kiss me again.”
He did. And for the rest of the night, the outside world, the promotions, and the ticking clocks simply ceased to exist.