First Day Protocol

The elevator hummed as it climbed the thirty floors of Coleman Tower, and Mallory Coomer watched her reflection in the polished brass doors. She had spent forty minutes that morning choosing the outfit. A cream silk blouse tucked into a navy pencil skirt that hit just above the knee. Simple pearl studs. Hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail that made her look older, sharper, like someone who belonged in a corner office.

She looked professional. Competent. Nothing like the girl who had spent last night staring at her ceiling, wondering if she was making the biggest mistake of her life.

The elevator chimed and the doors slid open onto the twenty-ninth floor. The marketing department stretched before her, all clean lines and glass walls and the kind of minimalist design that cost more than her monthly rent. A receptionist smiled from a curved desk of white marble, and Mallory smiled back, clutching her laptop like a shield.

"Mallory Coomer. First day of the internship program."

The receptionist nodded and handed her a badge on a lanyard. "HR orientation is in conference room B. Down the hall, second left. They're expecting you."

The orientation lasted an hour. A woman named Denise walked her through compliance forms, nondisclosure agreements, and an employee handbook thicker than her graduate thesis. Mallory signed everything, asked the right questions, took notes in a neat script that she barely looked at. Her mind kept drifting to the top floor. To the corner office where Bridger Coleman would be sitting right now, reading reports, making decisions that moved millions.

She had known him for years. At Piper's birthday parties, at graduations, at the occasional dinner where he sat at the head of the table and asked polite questions about her studies. He had always been Piper's dad. A figure of authority and warmth, someone who handed her a glass of champagne at Piper's twenty-first and told her she was like a second daughter to him.

That was before.

Before she had sent in her application. Before the interview where he had looked at her differently, his steel-gray eyes holding hers a moment longer than necessary. Before HR had called to offer her the position, and Piper had squealed with joy, and Mallory had felt something twist in her chest that she refused to name.

Denise finished the orientation and handed her a folder. "Mr. Coleman wants to see you in his office before you start. Top floor. His assistant will show you up."

Mallory's heart stumbled. She kept her face calm, nodded, thanked Denise, and walked toward the elevator.

The ride to the thirtieth floor was silent. The doors opened onto a different world. Dark wood paneling, soft lighting, the kind of hush that came from wealth and power. An assistant sat at a desk outside a set of double doors, and she smiled at Mallory with practiced warmth.

"Ms. Coomer. Go right in. He's expecting you."

Mallory pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The office was enormous. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city, the skyline stretching out in a panorama of glass and steel. A massive desk sat at the center, clean and organized, with a single framed photo facing away from her. And behind the desk, rising as she entered, was Bridger Coleman.

He was taller than she remembered. Or maybe she just hadn't noticed before, when he was her best friend's father and not her boss. He wore a charcoal suit that fit him perfectly, the jacket open over a crisp white shirt. His hair was salt and pepper, cut short, and his eyes were that same steel gray she had seen in the interview, sharp and assessing and impossible to read.

"Mallory." His voice was low, warm, with a rumble that seemed to settle in her chest. "Welcome. Please, have a seat."

She sat in the chair across from his desk, crossing her ankles, keeping her spine straight. The leather was soft and expensive. The whole room smelled like him. Sandalwood and something clean, like rain on concrete.

He sat back down, and for a moment they just looked at each other. The silence stretched, not uncomfortable but charged, like the air before a storm.

"How was orientation?" he asked.

"Thorough. I signed my life away in triplicate."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Good. That means Denise did her job." He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk. The movement brought him closer, and Mallory caught the faint lines at the corners of his eyes, the way his jaw was sharp and clean-shaven. "I want to be clear about something, Mallory. This internship is merit-based. You earned it. Your portfolio was exceptional, and your references were strong. You're not here because of Piper, or because of our family connection. You're here because you have talent."

She nodded, her throat tight. "I understand."

"Good. Because that connection also means I'll hold you to a higher standard. You'll work harder. You'll stay later. You'll prove that you deserve this opportunity, not because of who you know, but because of what you can do." His eyes held hers. "Do you understand what I'm asking?"

"Yes, sir."

Something flickered in his gaze at the word. A heat that was there and gone so fast she almost missed it. He leaned back, and the moment passed.

"Your desk is in the bullpen on twenty-nine. You'll report to Sarah Chen, the senior marketing manager. She knows you're coming. If you have any issues, any questions, anything at all, my door is open."

The words were professional. The way he said them was not. There was a weight to his voice, a deliberate pause between each phrase, that made her skin prickle.

She stood, smoothing her skirt. "Thank you, Mr. Coleman. I won't let you down."

"I know you won't." He stood as well, and for a moment they were face to face, separated only by the width of his desk. He was so much taller than her. She had to tilt her chin up to meet his eyes. "One more thing, Mallory."

"Yes?"

"Call me Bridger when we're alone. Mr. Coleman is for the boardroom."

Her breath caught. She nodded, not trusting her voice, and turned to leave.

She was at the door when it swung open and Piper burst through, all bright smiles and wild dark hair and a coffee cup in each hand.

"Mal! I caught you!" Piper thrust a coffee at her, beaming. "I wanted to surprise you on your first day. Dad, isn't this amazing? My best friend working at Coleman Industries. It's like a dream come true."

Mallory took the coffee, her fingers numb. She watched Piper cross the room and kiss her father on the cheek, watched Bridger's face soften into something warm and paternal. The contrast was dizzying. One moment she had been alone with him, the air thick with something unspoken. Now Piper was here, laughing, touching his arm, and Mallory felt like an intruder in her own skin.

"I'm so proud of you," Piper said, turning back to her. "You're going to kill it. Seriously. Dad, isn't she going to kill it?"

"She's going to do very well," Bridger said. His voice was even, controlled. But when his eyes met Mallory's over Piper's shoulder, there was something in them that made her stomach flip.

Piper chattered on about dinner plans, about a party next weekend, about how they should celebrate. Mallory nodded and smiled and drank her coffee, and all the while she was acutely aware of Bridger watching her. The way his gaze lingered on her mouth when she took a sip. The way his thumb traced the edge of his desk, slow and deliberate.

"I should get to my desk," Mallory said finally. "Sarah's expecting me."

"Right, right. Go be amazing." Piper hugged her, quick and fierce. "I'll text you later. Dad, walk me out?"

Bridger nodded and followed Piper to the door. As he passed Mallory, his hand brushed her elbow. A light touch, barely there, gone in an instant. But it sent a jolt through her, sharp and electric, and she knew he had felt it too by the way his jaw tightened.

She walked to the elevator on legs that felt unsteady. The doors closed behind her, and she leaned against the wall, pressing the coffee cup to her forehead.

This was a mistake.

She could feel it, deep in her bones. The way he had looked at her. The way she had felt when he said her name. The way her pulse had raced when his hand touched her elbow.

She was supposed to be professional. Focused. She was supposed to be Piper's best friend, and he was supposed to be Piper's father, and none of this was supposed to feel like this.

But it did.

The elevator stopped on twenty-nine, and Mallory stepped out, straightening her blouse, lifting her chin. She found her desk in the bullpen, a clean white surface with a monitor and a phone and a small plant that someone had left as a welcome gift. She sat down, opened her laptop, and pulled up the first assignment.

She would keep her distance. She would focus on the work. She would be professional and competent and she would not think about the way Bridger Coleman's voice dropped when he said her name.

She would not think about the way his hand had lingered on her elbow.

She would not.

But even as she made the promise, she knew it was a lie. The attraction was already there, a spark she couldn't unfeel. And somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice whispered that she didn't want to put it out.

She wanted to see what happened when it caught fire.