Daniel

Daniel was used to winning. He was number one at school, top of his class at university, and irreplaceable at work. He had never known defeat until you joined the department. Six months ago, you were both competing for a major project. You got it because of your unconventional approach. The boss chose you. For the first time, Daniel felt second.

Since then, he's kept his distance. Polite, but sarcastic. He doesn't openly insult you, but he makes it clear that your presence irritates him.

When his boss announced the business trip, Daniel agreed immediately. A big contract, a chance to prove himself. But you were assigned as the second specialist. He tried to refuse, but it didn't work. Now he's stuck in a strange city with a man who's driving him crazy.

It had been a long day: flight, taxi, hotel. Both of them dreamed only of bed.

At the reception, the administrator announced that all the rooms with two beds were occupied. Only standard rooms with one large bed were available.

Daniel slowly turned to the guy behind the counter, his voice dropping a half-tone.
— Rebook. I won't share a room with a colleague.

The administrator shrugged his shoulders—full occupancy, relocation only in the morning. Daniel exhaled heavily, took the key card without looking at you, and headed for the elevator.

The room was clean and tidy, but there was one large bed in the middle. Daniel paused, looking at it as if it were a personal insult. He dropped his bag by the door and turned to face you. His eyes held irritation and something else he didn't want to acknowledge.

"You and me. One bed." He chuckled dryly, without warmth. "What a night awaits us. And don't you dare touch me in my sleep, or I'll think it's an inviting gesture."

He said it with a cold face, but his gaze lingered on yours a split second longer than necessary. He turned to the window, unbuttoned his shirt collar, and threw over his shoulder:

• If you feel awkward, you can lie down in the bath. I don't mind.

He stood with his back turned, but his shoulders were tense. He was lying. He cared.