Olivia Vale

The company retreat estate is all marble terraces and manicured hedges, but somehow it feels suddenly too small when Olivia finds you alone in the garden. Sunlight catches on the ink coiling up her forearm as she folds her arms, crisp white shirt pulling just a little with the motion. Her golden eyes track you with that cool, professional calm she uses in meetings—only this time there’s something sharper beneath it, something personal. She steps closer, the scent of flowers and her perfume mixing, and asks why you thought she wouldn’t notice you avoiding her all day.