A/N: As Daryl gets introduced in this fic, I want you to remember this is for FUN and is very silly and to not be taken that seriously!!

Anyway, Rick's songs in this chapter are "Nervous" by The Neighbourhood and "FU in My Head" by Cloudy June. Idk if you guys are ready for the yearning levels of this chapter LMAO also it's so long??? not sure how that happened lol but I hope you enjoy!

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Ricks' POV
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My feet slam down heavily onto the unforgiving concrete, each stride sending a jolt of pain shooting up through my legs, the impact of my running shoe meeting the pavement only exacerbating the searing ache in my lungs. Despite the discomfort, or perhaps because of it, I grit my teeth and push harder, determined to get the best out of my workout before I go to work.

And the physical exertion serves as a welcome distraction from the lingering thoughts of.... last night.

I stumble momentarily as the memory resurfaces, making a curse escape my lips before I regain my balance and resume my run. The cool morning breeze provides a brief respite, cooling down my sweat-covered bare torso.

Damn it. First, she infiltrates my dreams, and now the thought of her nearly sends me headfirst into the pavement.

Strangely enough, the most concerning thing about it wasn't that Cassandra Adams of all people invaded my subconscious and ruined my favorite pajama pants. It's... the way it felt.

Her face wasn't just put on the woman that used to randomly pop up here and there. It was definitely Adams, and we weren't just having sex, we were making love.

It's the overwhelming and consuming love intermingled with the pleasure that I felt deep within my chest that continues to baffle me, even now. I didn't recognize the bed either- usually, they happen in my apartment or sometimes the office, but those cheap white sheets were nothing I recognized.

While in the startingly realistic dream, it felt like I had been waiting for years to finally be with her, and when we finally did, I was completely and wholly in love with her- Cassandra Adams.

It's just... confusing. And damaging to my pants. I have half a mind to send Cass a check for reimbursement. It is her fault after all.

After enduring a night of near-zero sleep, the events of last night serve only to stoke the flames of resentment burning within me toward her.

Despite that, I find myself unable to forget the vivid image of her face contorted with ecstasy as I relentlessly thrusted into her tight, wet-

This time, I do fall.

But to no fault of my own. To the fault of some big hairy thing colliding with my legs, and sending me hurtling to the ground.

Given how fast I was running, I'm lucky the beast of a dog ran at me from the side, knocking me into the grass to the right of the path and not forward onto the unforgiving concrete. Still, as I slam against the hard soil, I cringe, pain jolting through my body.

As I attempt to regain my bearings, the source of my fall- a massive, shaggy black hunter dog- takes advantage of my vulnerable position, showering my face with its repulsive slobber while panting non-stop.

"Daryl! Stop!" I hear distantly as I look at the dog in front of me.

"I'm so sorry, sir, I'm not sure why he's-" the rambling of his horrifyingly familiar-sounding owner cuts off abruptly as the dog gets pulled away. Immediately, I look up, my stomach throttling seeing her.

"Adams?"
"Grimes?"

Our names hang in the air, uttered in unison, as I lie sprawled on the grass like an idiot. Cass stands above me, holding back her massive dog, a vision in tight grey leggings and a snug white tank top that accentuates every curve of her figure.

Every curve that I definitely did not have a wet dream about last night like a damn teenager. To be fair, it's been a while since I've been laid. I prefer to blame that as to why and not the stubborn attraction to her that's been lingering in the back of my mind.

"What are you doing here?" Cass questions as I struggle to my feet with a grunt, glancing down to see if there's any grass climbing to my bare skin. I try to ignore the embarrassing fact that I'm shirtless in front of my coworker. The coworker I've sworn to destroy. The coworker who infuriates me endlessly. The coworker who is my direct competitor- trying to steal my job. The coworker who made me come last night.

Redirecting my focus to the woman herself, I make a concerted effort to keep my gaze locked on her face, rather than the cleavage tantalizingly thrust into my line of sight as she bends to wrangle her dog.

"I was..." thinking about how I fucked you in my dream last night "-running," I manage to say, clearing my throat, forcing myself to calm the hell down. My heart is thudding relentlessly against my ribcage, adrenaline skittering through my veins, making my gut twist.

"Before your beast tackled me to the ground," I continue pointedly, shooting a reproachful glance at the dog, who barks playfully in response, his tail wagging enthusiastically. Cass scoffs dismissively, shaking her head in disbelief.

"'Beast'? Daryl is a sweetheart. Maybe you're just a frail man who has bad form," she suggests, her tone laced with sarcasm as she meets my gaze defiantly. The familiar thrill of arguing with her thrums in my chest, and despite my best efforts, a grin creeps across my face.

"Well, he seems to like me," I remark with dry amusement, pointedly looking down at the way her dog is thrashing against Cass's firm grip on the leash, trying to get to me.

Her green eyes narrow in response. How did I never notice how green they were before?

"No, he doesn't. That would make him a traitor and a bad judge of character, and Daryl is neither." Cass replies haughtily, the muscles in her arms flexing as she forcibly yanks the determined dog backward.

"Daryl's an... odd name for a dog," I mutter, casting a curious glance at the scruffy yet endearing dog. His soulful blue eyes lock onto mine with unwavering intensity, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth in a canine grin, his tail wagging incessantly.

Cass sighs heavily. "That was his name when I adopted him from the shelter a week ago. He's seven and already knows it too well so there's no point giving him a new one," she explains wearily as she gazes at the dog with a mixture of fondness and exasperation.

My attention momentarily drifts from the dog to Cass herself, my heart quickening its pace as I take in her appearance in its entirety.

I find myself momentarily captivated by the stray hairs that escape her messy ponytail, gleaming like strands of gold in the early morning sunlight. The glistening sheen of sweat on her flushed and undeniably attractive face draws my gaze, tracing the delicate curve of her neck down to the subtle rise and fall of her chest, accentuated by the strands of her ponytail cascading over her left shoulder.

She looks...

"... What?" Cass asks suspiciously, shifting uneasily and eyeing me down, her brows furrowed.

Abruptly shaken out of my fog of thoughts, I blink rapidly, bringing myself back to reality. Quickly swallowing back the panic of her possibly seeing that I was just (admiring?) her, I shake my head, looking down.

"Just- think I might be concussed. Be prepared for the medical bill I'll send to you and your beast," I retort with a forced air of bored indifference, hiding my thoughts beneath a facade of cool detachment that I desperately hope she can't see through.

Cass lets out a frustrated huff, her initial confusion swiftly transforming into irritation. "You are unbelievable," she breathes, rolling her eyes and shaking her head in exasperation. I try and fail not to notice the way her tongue darts out to moisten her bottom lip as she looks away momentarily before a mischievous smile tugs at the corners of her lips.

"By the way, stalking isn't a good color on you," Cass adds with a smug tilt of her head, shooting me a pointed look before she resumes her jog, dragging the dog along with her.

Stalking?

I scoff incredulously before darting back onto the sidewalk to catch up with her as she picks up her pace, jogging effortlessly down the path. I push myself harder than before, determined to keep pace with her. Damn, she's fast.

"Stalking? I've been going on this run for ten years Adams. If anything, you're the stalker," I retort as I match her stride, causing her to huff disdainfully, her gaze fixed firmly ahead.

Daryl seems pleased that we're running together now as he's happily trotting between us, his tongue hanging out of his mouth.

[ A/N: out of context that sentence has me HOLLERING ]

"This is my park. My building is right there, so I think you should change your route," Cass huffs out, nudging her head to the street to the right of us, and I follow her line of sight, ignoring the way her voice sounds when she's breathless like this.

Breathless like the way she was panting my name last night. My name- not Grimes, Rick.

I can still hear the way she said it, in a single breath, her voice taut with pleasure.

My heart skips a beat as I nearly trip over my feet once again, prompting Cass to shoot me a look. I don't return the gesture, my pulse racing as I realize that she's gestured toward the street where my building is.

"Which building?" I ask, turning to her, watching as she has to quickly dodge a nearby runner, her shoulder bumping into mine as she does.

The electric shock of our bare shoulders connecting sends a jolt through me, leaving me momentarily stunned. Jesus. Why does that keep happening?

"The tallest one with the glass lobby, not that you deserve to know."Cass retorts with a sigh, her words tinged with a hint of annoyance as if my presence is an inconvenience for her. I can't face the strange pang in my chest at that, too focused on the panic fluttering through me at what she's saying.

"That's my building," I argue, making Cass stumble to a stop, her chest heaving from the running, her brows knitted together. I stop as well, studying the way her mouth parts, her cheeks even more flushed now, suddenly making me realize that I must have a kink for women working out because that's the only explanation for how I'm feeling right now.

"Please tell me you're joking." Cass exhales sharply, scrutinizing my expression with a mixture of disbelief and apprehension. Before I can respond, however, she's suddenly yanked forward as her dog jumps up onto me, pulling her along with him. While she doesn't collide with me like him, she ends up mere inches away from my face, and time seems to slow to a crawl around us.

I find myself utterly captivated by our proximity, oblivious to her strange dog's massive paws pressing against my torso. All I can focus on is the sight of Cass's face inches from mine, her minty breath wafting over me as she's pulled closer. Meanwhile, I can't seem to be able to breathe, my heart rate suddenly skyrocketing.

This time, it's not her citrusy perfume assaulting my senses, but an undeniable smell that is distinctly hers- a scent that twists my gut and leaves my mouth dry.

Cass's eyelids flutter for a fleeting moment, a sense of satisfaction washing over me as I catch the subtle flicker of response in her demeanor. At least somewhat affected by our sudden proximity.

Oxygen floods into my lungs as Cass pushes herself off me, her head down. I only catch a glimpse but I swear her face is redder than before.

As she steps away and oxygen floods my brain, I manage to string together a coherent thought, recalling the last thing she said. "Uh- I'm not joking. I'm in the penthouse, so trust me, I'm sure that's my building." I breathe, only making her head snap up, her eyes narrowing.

"No, I live in the penthouse," Cass counters, her brows drawn together, confusion laced in those green eyes.

A horrifying realization dawns on me.

There's no way.

"You don't happen to face east, do you?" I ask, through my suddenly heavy breathing, panic gripping my chest. That old bastard moved out a few months back, so the east unit should be empty.

Cass looks at me for a moment, and it takes that singular question to make her realize the same thing. With a swift whirl, she pivots around, her golden ponytail swinging dangerously close to my face. Clenching my jaw, I forcibly divert my gaze from the tantalizing sight of her leggings showing off her ass, just as Cass looks at our building, her posture deflating visibly.

"You have the west penthouse and I have the east," Cass mutters, her voice tinged with a mix of resignation and disbelief as she slowly turns back to face me, her eyes widening in realization. "We're neighbors," she breathes out, her features contorted with what seems to be a mixture of dread and horror.

I'm sure she thinks that I'm going to be somehow sabotaging her as my neighbor but I'm now terrified at the thought of that woman living across the hall from me. For a whole other reason.

That means she was just across the hall last night.

"We sure are," I force out through my gritted teeth, nerves tingling over my skin. Of course, out of all the apartments in fucking New York City, she just had to move into the other penthouse in my building.

The one woman I'm desperately trying to avoid.

Cass looks at me for a moment, not seeming to know how to handle the information before she looks down at her watch. Her eyes flare, whatever the watch says making her curse under her breath.

Taking the opportunity while she's distracted, I reach out to scratch behind her dog's ears, eliciting a contented pant from the furry creature, his tail wagging enthusiastically. I catch Cass's gaze as she glances up from her watch, her expression softening briefly before she releases a heavy sigh.

"Alright, well I have to go. Hopefully, I don't see you at the office," Cass mutters under her breath, her tone tinged with frustration before she gives Daryl's leash a firm tug and resumes her jog.

"Jesus, what's wrong with you?" she murmurs to Daryl, her voice barely audible as she disappears down the path, the rhythmic thud of her footsteps fading into the early morning air.

I watch her jog away for a moment, Daryl reluctantly going with her, feeling like I might be dreaming again.

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Cass's POV
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"Here are those last bits of paperwork for the Driscoll file," I say, my voice carrying a hint of relief as I hand over the meticulously organized file to Maggie at her cubicle, as she had requested earlier in the day. Her eyes light up with appreciation as she looks up from her computer screen, a warm smile spreading across her face.

"Perfect, thanks Cass," Maggie replies, her gratitude evident in her tone, her smile broadening as she sets the file aside amidst the clutter of her desk. I offer a halfhearted nod in response, my mind preoccupied with thoughts swirling around restlessly, my bottom lip trapped between my teeth.

He lives just across the hall from me. The only other apartment on the floor.

Oh God.

Luckily I haven't seen him since this morning. I just got home, showered, and left, and our paths haven't crossed since. Thank God for that. He was acting... off at the park. I wonder what that was about.

"What's up with you?" Maggie's perceptive tone cuts through my thoughts, prompting me to pause, my gaze flickering nervously to meet hers.

Before I can formulate a response, the sudden eruption of raised voices draws my attention, my head snapping in that direction. A teenage boy, no older than fourteen, his features contorted with fury, storms out of Rick's office, his footsteps echoing with an air of defiance as he strides past Maggie and me, his destination clear as he heads straight for the elevators.

My eyebrows arch in surprise at the unexpected outburst, exchanging a puzzled glance with Maggie before turning my gaze toward Rick's office. There he stands, framed in the doorway, his expression a mixture of frustration and helplessness. His brow is furrowed, his lips pressed into a firm line, and his arms crossed tightly over the fabric of his impeccably tailored dark grey suit.

Involuntarily, my eyes flick down to the skirt I'm wearing, noting its near-identical color to Rick's suit, a realization that makes my stomach twist for some reason. When I look up again, Rick has vanished, leaving behind a lingering sense of confusion.

"Poor kid," Maggie mutters sympathetically, drawing my attention away from Rick's absence and back to her.

Glancing over my shoulder, I watch as the teenager gets into the elevator. His fiery blue eyes look chillingly similar to Rick's before they're hidden behind the closing doors.

"Who is he?" I inquire, turning back to face Maggie with a mix of curiosity and concern. She offers me a sad smile in response.

"Carl. Rick's son," Maggie explains, sending a wall of shock slamming into me. My eyebrows shoot to my hairline in disbelief as Maggie nods knowingly.

"He has a son?" I demand incredulously, leaning over her cubicle wall, seeking confirmation.

Maggie's semi-sad smile stays, her gaze drifting towards Rick's office where he's now back at his desk, engrossed in his work. My heart skips a beat as I watch him, the idea of him being a father so in contrast to the version of him in my mind.

"Yeah, with his ex-wife," Maggie continues, and this time I'm so taken aback that I nearly lose my balance, my head snapping to her with wide eyes.

There's no way.

"Grimes was married?" I gasp, my jaw dropping in blinding shock. The idea of a woman tolerating that asshole is mind-blowing, to say the least.

Maggie snorts in agreement, nodding as she flips through the paperwork I handed her, as though the bombshell she's just dropped isn't the most groundbreaking news I've ever heard.

"Yeah, they got divorced two years ago. They'd been together since high school, I think, and had Carl when they were young." Maggie explains, and I blink in confusion, trying to process the information.

"You never saw him before- when he and Lori were together. He was... different. Whatever happened between them changed him into who he is now," Maggie explains matter-of-factly as if she's discussing the weather rather than dropping bombshells about my corporate enemy.

Michonne had mentioned something about him changing over the past couple of years "for good reason." Could it seriously be because his wife left him?

I steal another glance at Rick, observing him deeply engrossed in conversation with Glenn. He just looks so serious all the time- unless he's making fun of me. It's hard to imagine him being in a loving enough relationship to have been married.

"Oh, I forgot to remind you, you need to go to the senior partner meeting in ten minutes in the conference room," Maggie informs me, her voice pulling me back to reality and shaking me out of my strange daze. I vaguely remember an email about that.

"Alright, thanks Maggie, I'll uh- talk to you later then," I reply, offering her a brief smile as I mentally note the reminder. I'm unable to resist my eyes from flicking back to Rick's office. My heart lurches as I unexpectedly make direct eye contact with him.

Shit.

The intensity of his gaze sends a shiver down my spine, and I quickly avert my eyes, feeling a rush of nervousness fluttering in the pit of my stomach. After sending Maggie a quick nod, I turn on my heel, walking away to my office to grab my notepad and pen for the meeting.

The meeting is a convenient distraction, but I can't shake Rick from my mind. The fact that he was married with a kid continues to blow my mind.

After a quick bathroom break to freshen up and clear my thoughts, I make my way to the conference room, mentally cursing myself as I realize I only have about three minutes before I'm late.

Upon entering, my stomach sinks as I take the table crowded with about fifteen men in suits, engaged in lively conversation like a group of college buddies.

At the head of the table is Michonne, smiling as she talks to a man who stands out from the rest. I quickly recognize him as Hershel Greene- Michonne's former mentor.

Despite his age- mid-sixties, by the looks of it- he exudes a warm kindness that sets him apart from the typical old, male, managing partners I've encountered. His powdery white hair and gentle eyes, adorned with crow's feet from years of smiling, convey a sense of rare approachability.

I suddenly feel horrible for vying over his position with Rick for the moment he retires. Feeling like a vulture preying on this kind-seeming man.

Clearing my throat, I stride into the room, attempting to exude confidence despite the nerves bubbling beneath the surface. As I scan the room for a seat, I can't help but notice how the volume noticeably drops a level at my entrance.

Finding the only available seat in the middle of the long table, I quickly make my way towards it, trying to ignore the lingering gazes of my colleagues. I suddenly regret wearing one of my tighter skirts.

It's only after I've taken my seat and rolled the chair in that I realize my mistake.

The seat I've already settled in is the only spot positioned directly across from Grimes.

Looking up, I'm immediately met with his piercing blue eyes, sending a wave of nerves washing over me. Like an idiot, I forgot that he's another senior partner who has to be at this meeting. And like an even bigger idiot, I came too late to end up in the most inconvenient seat possible- directly across from Rick.

Just my fucking luck.

Something unfamiliar flickers in his eyes as he looks at me, and for a split second, I swear he's fighting a smile. Inhaling sharply, I look away, focusing my attention on Michonne as she stands at the head of the table, her presence commanding the room.

With one singular clap of her hands, Michonne brings the attention of the room to order. Hershel, the other managing partner, remains seated, his curious gaze lingering on me for a moment before he returns his focus to Michonne.

"Great. Everyone's here, so we can start. The first order of business is to introduce our newest senior partner, Dr. Cassandra Adams," Michonne announces warmly, gesturing to me.

An uneasy knot tightens in my stomach as all eyes swivel in my direction, my cool facade masking the nervous flutter within. A quick survey of the men at the table reveals a mix of indifferent gazes and a couple of unsettling predatory looks, sending a shiver of discomfort down my spine and prompting me to look away hastily.

"Cass's expertise is an incredibly valuable addition to the team, so let's all make sure to give her a warm welcome," Michonne's words, though comforting, only slightly ease the tension tightening my chest, leaving a faint flush of gratitude on my cheeks for her acknowledgment.

Somewhere down the table to my right, a muttered remark barely registers in my ears, too quiet for me to discern. Before I can even turn my head to see who said it-

"Careful." Rick interjects with a measured, almost disinterested tone, his words carrying a cold authority that immediately mutes the murmurs. Like a father chastising his children.

The subtle shift in the room is palpable as the others at the table swiftly fall into silence, their demeanor morphing into one of subdued compliance.

My gaze drifts back to Rick, a sense of bewilderment swirling in my mind as I try to figure out what he just did. Was he defending me?

But I get no answers as I study his stoic side profile, his gaze fixated on Michonne, waiting for her to continue. He doesn't even glance in my direction.

Blinking, I glance down, my brows knitting together in thought.

"Alright, onto our stock. As we all know..."

The rest of the meeting blends into a blur of discussions on stock, important current cases, matters of the firm, and the state of our competition.

It's only an hour-long meeting, but the minutes stretch into an eternity, the information seemingly irrelevant to my job. While I want to be a managing partner one day, I was hoping to meet up with Glenn to work on our case, as we were finally getting somewhere the other day.

As Michonne talks in tandem with another partner who must be the most boring man I've ever heard, I inadvertently bite the end of my ballpoint pen to give myself something to do. They're discussing something about the budget, and I'm genuinely having a hard time keeping my eyes open.

Absently chewing on the end of my pen, I find myself zoning out, lost in a mental debate about what I should get for lunch. The salad from that place down the street is tempting, but the memory of the last time they ignored my request to omit avocados and ruined it lingers frustratingly in my mind.

Amidst the relentless drone of the meeting, I search for any semblance of interest in the room. My gaze drifts away from Michonne and the insanely dull Mr. Boring, landing momentarily on Hershel. He's strangely engaged, and a pang of envy stirs within me at his apparent interest in the mundane discussion about budget.

It's then that I feel a strange prickling sensation at the back of my neck, prompting me to discreetly glance across the table. There, amidst the sea of bored and bland expression, I catch sight of him.

Rick, whose gaze was fixated on his notes the last time I saw him, is now staring unflinchingly at me. His head is slightly angled downward, his hand casually placed by his mouth, his piercing eyes trained on me.

Yet, it's not the typical disdain or smug amusement I've come to expect from Rick's gaze. Instead, there's an inexplicable intensity, an indiscernible emotion simmering beneath the surface.

His blue irises, seemingly darker than usual, drift down to my mouth where my pen remains held hostage between my lips. A subtle shift in his expression accompanies a slow exhale, intensifying the palpable tension tightening in my chest. My heart quickens its pace in response to the raw intensity of his gaze, a vivid contrast to the monotony that surrounds us.

A surge of something unfamiliar stirs within me at the intensity of his stare, prompting my lips to part involuntarily. Just as I register the silent exchange unfolding between us, my pen slips from my grasp and mouth, shattering the stifling silence with an embarrassingly loud clatter against the glass tabletop.

Frozen momentarily at my clumsiness, I rip my eyes away from Rick's penetrating gaze, scrambling to retrieve the fallen pen as it rolls across the table. The weight of humiliation presses down on me as the suffocating silence of the room amplifies, my cheeks aflame with embarrassment.

Before I can grab the escaping pen, a familiar hand intercepts its path, stopping it.

My heart leaps to my throat as Rick picks up the fallen pen, offering it to me in an unexpected gesture of kindness. I hesitate, my gaze flicking to his fingers, resting on the spot where my lips had been just moments ago.

I horrifyingly notice the lingering shine of my saliva where his fingers are curled around the pen. But he seems unbothered by its presence, somehow making my humiliation worse.

A surge of indignation courses through me as I catch the glint of smug amusement dancing in Rick's eyes, igniting a flicker of anger within my chest. Clenching my jaw, I snatch the pen from his outstretched hand, the brief contact of our fingers sending a jolt of warmth through me despite my efforts to suppress it.

"Thank you," I mutter through gritted teeth, my voice barely above a whisper as I deliberately avoid meeting his gaze, focusing instead on placing my pen on my notepad with finality.

With a glance towards the head of the table, I catch Hershel's curious gaze fixed upon me, undoubtedly wondering why Michonne hired a late, bumbling idiot. Beside him, Michonne's perceptive eyes flit between me and Rick, her expression turned with a thoughtful look that makes my mouth dry with dread.

"Sorry about that," I apologize, clearing my throat in an attempt to regain some semblance of composure.

I suddenly wonder if God could do me a quick favor and strike me with a bolt of lightning so I can be spared the embarrassment of this moment.

"It's alright, we should be wrapping this up anyway. We're ten minutes over," Michonne says warmly, making the other men focus on gathering their things instead of continuing to stare at me.

As I offer Michonne a quick smile of appreciation, there's a bemusement in her expression I don't miss.

The meeting draws to a close and everyone gets up to leave and I do the same, all the while making a mental note to avoid making eye contact with Rick for the remainder of the day. Especially because the sensation of touching his warm and surprisingly calloused hand doesn't seem to want to leave my mind.

Standing up swiftly, I grab my goddamn pen and notepad and push in my chair, my gaze trained on the floor. I definitely don't notice Rick getting up in my periphery, and I definitely do not notice the way he buttons his suit jacket in one swift move with his fingers.

Before I can escape the suffocating humiliation that grips the conference room, a gentle hand lands on my elbow, halting my escape and compelling me to turn around. It's Michonne, her reassuring smile coaxing me back.

"Cass, I want you to meet Hershel Greene, our other managing partner, and my former mentor," Michonne introduces me, her words prompting a slight widening of my eyes as she guides me towards the distinguished figure seated nearby.

Shit.

Hershel rises from his chair, his warm smile extending a silent invitation as he extends his hand. Summoning my best facade of confidence and professionalism, I return the gesture, offering a firm handshake that my father instilled in me from a young age.

"Dr. Adams. So nice to finally meet you, I've heard quite a bit about you," Hershel beams warmly, his kindness immediately easing the harsh knot of anxiety and humiliation that had been tightening in my chest.

Returning his smile with genuine warmth, I step back after our handshake, a rush of relief flooding through me. "It's an honor, sir. Your work on the Copperland case will always be an inspiration for me," I express sincerely, noting the subtle widening of Hershel's smile and the deepening of the lines around his eyes.

"I'm surprised you know it. It's one of my lesser-known cases," Hershel muses, a hint of nostalgia coloring his eyes as he reminisces.

Nodding in understanding, I gracefully maneuver to the side, allowing other partners to pass by as they make their exit. "Well, I know it well," I reply with a soft smile, my attention momentarily diverted by the scent of a familiar cologne lingering in the air, prompting me to glance up.

I'm met with the sight of Rick walking up to us, uninvited to the conversation but striding over confidently nonetheless. My gaze quickly averts from his momentarily breathtaking genuine smile as he directs his attention to Hershel.

"They're just letting anyone in here, I see," Rick comments to Hershel, causing my eyebrows to shoot up to my hairline in surprise at the comment. Yet, Hershel's response catches me off guard more as he laughs warmly.

"Well, you're here, so they are," Hershel retorts warmly through his chuckle, before pulling Rick into a quick hug as if he's his long-lost son. Stepping back slightly to give them room, I can't help but feel a twinge of mild annoyance, my brows knitting together.

I didn't realize he and Hershel were so close.

"You've met the wonderful Cassandra, I assume?" Hershel asks innocently as he pulls from the hug, making Rick glance in my direction.

Determined not to let Rick's arrogance tarnish my image in front of our boss, I offer him a simple smile, my eyebrows raised in silent question.

"I have. We're working on a case together, actually. She's an excellent addition to the team," Rick responds, surprising me with his genuine praise as Rick smiles at Hershel.

Did Rick just... compliment me?

Rick's gaze shifts back to mine, and I'm caught off guard by the warmth in his eyes. "Adams is the perfect senior partner," Rick concludes, his words immediately extinguishing the fleeting feeling of warmth that had been growing in my chest.

I see.

I'm the 'perfect senior partner' - not managing partner.

Forcing a tight-lipped smile, I suppress my annoyance at his clever dig to undermine my taking Hershel's job.

"Oh, but I'm no match for the Rick Grimes, am I?" I ask with feigned innocence, raising an eyebrow and flashing a saccharine smile in Rick's direction. "Why don't you enlighten Hershel about the case we've been working on and our strategy?"

A barely noticeable twitch in Rick's jaw betrays his irritation, confirming that I've struck a nerve. Glenn seemingly hasn't had the chance to brief him on all the progress we'd made last night, leaving me with a satisfying upper hand.

Heh.

Before Rick can muster a response, Michonne gracefully intervenes with a warm smile, disrupting the tension. "Well, while you two talk, I need to speak with Cass in private, I apologize," she announces, redirecting the focus away from the brewing tension between Rick and me.

"It was nice meeting you, Cassandra," Hershel chimes in warmly, his kind words momentarily easing the lingering tension in the air. I turn towards him, a genuine smile breaking across my face at the icon in front of me saying that.

"Thank you, sir, I hope to see you again soon," I respond sincerely, making Hershel nod, something twinkling in his eyes. My gaze briefly flickers to Rick as Michonne begins to lead the way out.

There's a peculiar expression on Rick's face that causes my genuine smile to falter slightly. "Grimes," I acknowledge him with a slight nod, my voice tinged with a hint of formality.

Rick blinks once. "Adams," he replies, his voice tense, laden with unspoken tension. His expression is unreadable, leaving a strange fluttering sensation in my chest.

Blinking rapidly to dismiss the unsettling feeling, I pivot on my heel, following Michonne out of the room.

With each step, the knot of tension gradually unravels, my nerves easing as the distance from Rick increases.

"So what did you want to talk about?" I ask, clearing my throat and glancing to my side at Michonne. She turns to me with a mischievous grin.

"You're coming out with me and Sophie tonight," Michonne informs me, her excitement evident as she grasps my arm, causing my eyebrows to shoot up in surprise.

"I'm what?" I respond with a mixture of incredulity and amusement, prompting Michonne's grin to widen.

"As you know, it's Sophie's birthday tomorrow, but she has back-to-back surgeries so she wants us three to celebrate with her tonight," Michonne explains, making me open my mouth, anxiety clenching my chest at the idea.

Going out clubbing with Michonne and Sophie used to be the wildest part of my twenties, but those days are far behind me now. I can't keep up with that lifestyle anymore, especially not with my responsibilities and my dwindling tolerance for alcohol.

"Michonne, I-" I start to protest as she guides me into her office, swiftly shutting the door behind us.

"You can't tell me you have work to do, I know you don't," Michonne says, her grin betraying her amusement as she settles onto her chic blush-colored couch.

I tilt my head at her with an exasperated sigh, meeting her gaze as I stand before her. "I have a dog, Michonne. I can't just leave him alone-"

"-I've already arranged for a dog sitter to come over," Michonne interrupts sweetly, her persuasive tone cutting through my excuses. I pause, pressing my lips together in contemplation.

"Look, Cass, it's not like we're hitting the clubs like we used to. It's just our favorite lounge to grab some drinks, nothing crazy," Michonne reassures me, sensing my hesitation. I inhale slowly, weighing my options.

I chew on my bottom lip, deliberating for a moment before finally relenting. "Alright. I'd be a pretty terrible best friend if I wasn't there," I concede, earning a bright smile from Michonne.

"I knew I could wear you down. We'll meet you at your apartment tonight. Make sure to wear something hot, okay? We've got an image to uphold," Michonne quips with a playful wink, eliciting a chuckle from me as I shake my head in resignation.

Oh god, this is going to be one long night.

_______

Rick's POV - that night
_______

"He's an asshole," Jessie sighs, bringing her martini to her red-painted lips, her brows furrowed together.

I nod sympathetically, the smooth lounge music providing a backdrop to our conversation. Leaning forward on the low chairs, I meet Jessie's gaze, my expression reflecting genuine concern.

"You know I'm not a divorce lawyer, but I have friends who can help you," I assure her, my voice tinged with empathy as I search her emotion-filled eyes.

Setting down her martini glass, a faint lipstick stain adorning its rim, Jessie tilts her head to the side, seeming to consider my offer.

"Thank you, Rick. I knew I could trust you," she breathes, her gratitude evident as her expression softens. I offer her a reassuring nod, grateful that she confided in me. I know the best lawyers in the city and can make sure that she's taken care of.

There's nothing that I hate more than men who think they can hurt the women they've sworn to love, to protect. It's disgusting.

The abrupt sensation of Jessie's hand on my knee interrupts my train of thought and I pause, my gaze flicking down to where her manicured hand rests against my leg. A wave of discomfort washes over me, my mouth parting slightly in surprise.

Quickly shifting my focus back to her face, I prepare to politely address the misunderstanding, to explain that I don't see her that way, only to be distracted by the movement just past her face, by the entrance.

As a trio of women enters the lounge, my eyes widen in surprise as I immediately recognize Michonne and Sophie leading the way, their infectious grins stretching from ear to ear. Relief floods through me at the sight of my good friends, hoping they can provide a convenient excuse to leave this awkward situation.

I'm just about to tell Jessie I need to join my friends when the third woman comes into view and I freeze.

It's Adams.

She's walking in behind our friends, wearing a minuscule white silk dress that drapes over her body in the most captivating way, the hem ending mid-thigh. Even in the dim lighting of the lounge, she's like a beam of sunlight, lighting up the room and sending an electric current through me. My lips involuntarily part, a rush of heat surging through me at the sight.

I find myself captivated by the smooth expanse of her bare legs as she gracefully trails in behind our friends, the delicate fabric of her dress shifting in a way that suddenly has me questioning my faith.

My throat is constricted, the sight of my competitor looking this stunning rendering me utterly dumbfounded. I thought seeing her in leggings was bad the morning- but this?

Jesus Christ.

The three of them settle in one of the nice tables in my direct line of sight, just past Jessie's shoulder.

My heart stutters as Cass smoothly crosses her legs while taking her seat at the end of the booth, the movement causing her already short dress to ride up further on her thighs. Thighs that I find myself inexplicably drawn to, a primal desire urging me to bury myself between them suddenly burning through me.

With a mind of their own, my eyes trace the curves of her figure before returning to her captivating face. Yet, it's not her exposed body that unnerves me the most; it's the genuine, excited smile that graces her expression as she passes a small box to Sophie.

A smile she'd never give me.

I watch, transfixed, as Cass eagerly bites her lip in anticipation, her eyes alight with excitement as she watches Sophie open her present.

I've never seen her like this, so genuinely happy.

And the dark lighting of the sleek lounge is making her look fucking irresistible, but the light from the candle at the table is basking her in a warm light that makes my breath hitch.

As Cass's expression breaks into a radiant smile, my heart momentarily stops, my gaze briefly shifting to Sophie as she admires a small piece of jewelry in her hand

Squinting, I realize it's a pin with sparkling diamonds across it, and I think it's in the shape of a neuron.

Huh, that's a really good gift.

I'm only getting flowers sent to Soph for her birthday. Maybe I should've gotten her something like that instead. Especially given her excited reaction as she gleefully pins it to her green dress.

My view is momentarily obstructed by a passing waiter, prompting me to furrow my brows in irritation until he moves out of the way. When he finally does, I see he's dropped off some cocktails for them.

Cass reaches for the dark magenta one, her smile still radiant as she brings the glass to her lips. Longing tugs at my chest as her rosy-pink lips wrap around the rim of the glass, tipping it gracefully to take a sip of the drink.

Suddenly, I feel absurdly envious of the cocktail glass, resenting its ability to feel her perfect lips. The same goes for that damned pen earlier today.

Goosebumps rise on my arms as I remember the sensation of grabbing the ballpoint, feeling the lingering warmth where it had been fortunate enough to be nestled in her mouth.

My breath quickens as an overwhelming urge to kiss her floods my senses. I imagine pressing my lips to hers, exploring the softness of her mouth, tasting her, feeling her warmth. The mere thought sends a surge of desire through me, my body responding instinctively to the fantasy, prompting me to curse myself internally as I struggle to contain my yearning.

God, I need to get laid.

"Rick," Jessie breathes, her voice shaking me out of my daze of longing and desperation.

I blink at the expectant woman, trying to come back to reality, wondering how long I've been staring at Adams like an idiot.

"Yeah?" I reply, my voice betraying a hint of hoarseness, my cheeks flushing slightly with embarrassment.

Jessie smiles warmly, tilting her head to the side as she studies my face. "You're a good man. I know you act all tough, but deep down, you're sweet," she says softly, her words catching me off guard.

My brows furrow slightly, not sure where's she going with this.

But before I can gather my thoughts, Jessie's smile widens, and in one swift motion, she leans in and kisses me.

My mind goes blank, shock erupting through me as Jessie kisses me deeply. I'm frozen, not sure how to react, until my eyes instinctively dart back to Adams.

Feeling a woman kissing me as my eyes settle on the gorgeous and infuriating woman who's gained a permanent residence in my mind, stirs something in my chest.

And then I do something stupid.

Driven by a hunger to kiss the irresistible woman who has taken over every waking thought, I find myself kissing Jessie back. Satisfaction curls in my chest at the sensation, and in my mind, it's Cass I'm kissing.

I pretend it's those lips as they curve into a genuine smile, that I'm passionately caressing with my own. One of Cass's hands moves to slide her hair off her bare shoulder before adjusting her posture in the seat.

A low groan escapes me involuntarily into the kiss as I envision the many other ways Cass might move- her hips shifting, her back arching in response to my touch.

As Cass turns in response to something Michonne says, her posture abruptly straightens. Then, in a swift movement, her head turns in my direction.

And in a millisecond, blue meets green, our gazes fully locking.

My eyelids flutter slightly, my brows knitting together in the middle at having her gaze fixed on me.

Cass's eyes flare in shock as they meet mine, her perfect lips parting slightly.

Despite the rational part of my brain screaming at me to look away, I find myself physically unable to tear my gaze from hers. It's as though she's a magnet, drawing me in irresistibly, and looking away would mean defying the laws of nature itself.

I don't care that I've already stared at her far too much today, I can't stop. And kissing Cass-Jessie feels too good to stop.

An unfamiliar look crosses Cass's expression as her gaze darts to Jessie, before she quickly looks away, her mouth pressed in a firm line. A spark of hope ignites in my chest that she's jealous, but as Sophie says something else, Cass looks up with an unaffected grin, seamlessly diving back into the conversation.

That's when I pull away from the kiss with a long inhale, hoping the rush of oxygen might jolt my brain back into coherence.

"Fuck," I mutter under my breath, my mind reeling with confusion as I stare at the dark floor. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I just-"

"Who is she?" Jessie asks curiously, making me pause, glancing up at Jessie's genuine expression. Her brows are raised as she watches me, waiting for my response.

My mouth parts, caught off guard by her question. "What d'you-"

Jessie smiles softly. "I know you weren't kissing me just then. Is she the one you've been staring at?" she asks, her tone calm and curious, devoid of the irritation I had expected.

My cheeks burn with embarrassment as I realize there's no way out of this. I clear my throat, stealing a quick glance back at the table before responding.

As if I need to remember what Cass looks like. I can't get the damn image of her out of my mind.

"White dress," I mutter, clenching my jaw as Jessie quickly looks over her shoulder before looking back at me with an impressed look.

"I see. Did we make her jealous?" Jessie asks curiously, prompting my eyes to widen at the idea.

"Oh, trust me, there's no way she..." I trail off with an inhale, a pang hitting me hard in the chest at the idea.

Cass dislikes me so strongly, that I can't even imagine a scenario where she would feel any jealousy because of me. Where she would want me. Like that.

Jessie pats my knee sympathetically. "Talk to her," she whispers, before getting up, and grabbing her purse, clearly intent on leaving.

But my hand on her arm stops her, my heart leaping to my throat in guilt.

"I'm sorry. I took advantage of you when you were vulnerable, I- I'm sorry," I repeat my apology, my eyebrows drawn together with concern, only making Jessie chuckle in response, shaking her head.

"I took advantage of you being distracted with her to finally kiss you. I got it out of my system and you got to make white dress jealous. I think we're even," Jessie assures me with a wink before she smoothly walks away.

She walks out hailing down a taxi and leaving me behind, utterly dumbfounded.

_______

Cass's POV - an hour later
_______

"Alright, I'm just going to the bar at this point, this is ridiculous," Sophie huffs, clearly annoyed at our waiter's absence for over thirty minutes.

"No, the birthday girl doesn't go get her drinks. I'll handle it," I assure her quickly, earning an appreciative smile from Soph.

"Espresso martini please," Soph requests sweetly, making me grin, nodding as I carefully exit the booth, mindful not to give the entire room an unintentional show. I should have never let Michonne talk me into wearing this damn napkin.

"Ooo, me too," Michonne chimes in eagerly, enthusiastically supporting her wife's choice.

"Comin' right up," I reply smoothly before turning and navigating through the dimly lit lounge toward the bustling bar. It's Friday night, so the bar is packed with people filling every chair and available space in between.

After a bit of maneuvering, I finally find a gap between two men in barstools and quickly step between them.

Leaning against the bar, I attempt to hail down the bartender who simply holds up a tired hand as he chats with another bartender.

I sigh, feeling a pang of impatience creeping in as I lean back against the sleek marble countertop. It seems like it's going to take a while.

As I clear my throat and glance down, adjusting my dress slightly to ensure it falls just right over my figure, a chillingly familiar voice interrupts my thoughts.

"I'm not sure that's going to help you get his attention," the deep voice drawls, making me freeze, my gaze snapping to the man on the barstool to my left. His amused blue eyes lock onto mine, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

Shit.

When I looked back after witnessing the kiss earlier, Rick had disappeared and I figured he had taken the woman home. But... I guess not.

"Why not?" I counter, a hint of defiance lacing my words as I tilt my head to the side, eyebrows raised in challenge. "Are you saying I'm not attractive enough?" The words spill out of me with a boldness fueled by the alcohol coursing through my veins.

I consciously avert my gaze from the sight of Rick's slightly unbuttoned black button-down, which teasingly reveals a glimpse of his tan chest. Instead, I fixate on the flicker of surprise that briefly flashes across his eyes, determined to maintain my composure despite the unsettling proximity.

Rick exhales a breathless laugh, his gaze dropping momentarily to the amber liquid swirling in his glass. "You know what... yes, I am," he admits calmly, his eyes flicking up to meet mine once more, a playful challenge dancing within their blue depths, awaiting my reaction.

A surge of fierce agitation courses through me, my brows furrowing as I feel a mixture of irritation and indignation rising within me. "God, you're such an asshole," I mutter under my breath, unable to contain the exasperation that bubbles to the surface. With a heavy sigh, I shake my head, facing forward again.

Before I can gather my thoughts, a voice cuts through the tension from the other side of me. "Don't worry sweetheart, I think you're plenty attractive. If he can't see it, I definitely can," the unattractive man on my right smirks the sleazy remark, accompanied by a look that trails down the contours of my dress.

Discomfort washes over me, causing me to instinctively take a step back towards Rick. Despite disliking him to my core, there's an unexplainable sense of security I feel in his presence, a strange but sure knowledge in the back of my mind that he wouldn't hurt me.

Rick lets out a sharp inhale, the sound nearly drowned out by the faint squeak of the barstool being pushed back. I barely have time to register what's happening before I feel strong, warm hands encircling my waist, guiding me backward.

Nerves flutter across my abdomen as I emit a sound of surprise, my body responding to the unexpected contact through my thin dress as Rick maneuvers me back onto his now-vacant barstool.

A strange sensation washes over me as I settle onto the seat, still warm from where Rick had been sitting just moments ago.

Now standing between me and the sleaze, Rick leans against the counter with a clenched jaw, his gaze fixed forward as he shields me from the man.

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly constricted with gratitude, before gently pushing Rick's drink from where it was sitting in front of me to nudge against his hand. Rick's eyes dart down at the movement, slight amusement fluttering through his expression.

With a subtle shift in his stance, Rick fully turns his focus towards me, his intense gaze locking onto mine. I offer a silent 'thank you,' slightly hating the fact that this is the second time I've thanked him today. Rick's gaze softens slightly, and he gives me a subtle nod in return.

A fleeting warmth blossoms in my chest at his considerate gesture, momentarily overshadowed by the memory of his earlier remark flat-out telling me I wasn't attractive.

I'm not sure why that bothers me so much.

"So, your girlfriend won't mind me taking your seat?" I inquire casually, my fingers tracing a pattern on the smooth black surface of the bar as I strive to maintain an air of nonchalance.

"Jessie?" Rick asks, making my eyes flick to his. Jessie. That's the name of the woman who was... attached to him earlier.

With a subtle gulp, I nod. Rick's mouth curls into a wry smile, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes as he looks down at his tumbler with a shake of his head.

"She's not my girlfriend. That was a business meeting," he clarifies with a clear of his throat, his tone carrying a hint of defensiveness.

That catches me off guard, making me blink to myself for a moment.

A snort escapes me before I can stifle it, a burst of laughter bubbling up unexpectedly at the realization of what he just said. Rick's head snaps towards me in surprise, his gaze locking onto mine as I struggle to suppress the delight coursing through me.

"Sorry," I manage to mutter between stifled chuckles, hastily biting down on my lip in a futile attempt to contain my amusement.

Rick's eyes glint with a mixture of amusement and curiosity as if he's trying to decipher the reason behind my sudden outburst of laughter.

Waiting for me to regain my composure, Rick brings his tumbler to his lips, the amber liquid swirling within the glass as he takes a sip, his brows raised expectantly.

"I had figured you probably weren't the best with women but I didn't realize you actually had to pay for the pleasure of their company," I say, unable to suppress the playful smirk that tugs at the corners of my lips, causing Rick to choke on his drink.

A triumphant grin spreads across my face as Rick coughs, hastily setting down his tumbler with a clatter, shock embedded in his expression.

"She is not an escort. She's one of my clients," Rick clarifies, his voice tinged with a hint of exasperation.

"Oh," I say, my brows arching in surprise again. "You know, we both have great salaries I really don't think you need to be doing that on the side-"

"-for the love of God, that isn't what I meant," Rick sighs, the exhaustion evident in his voice as he pinches the bridge of his nose, a faint crease forming between his brows.

Grinning at his reaction, a strange sensation flutters in my chest, a subtle rush of exhilaration coursing through me at teasing him. There's an undeniable thrill in witnessing the cracks in his calm and stern exterior, a fleeting desire to push him to the brink and watch him fully lose control going through me.

"I'm just messing with you, Grimes," I interject, shaking my head with a playful smirk as I avert my gaze toward the meticulously arranged shelves of liquor bottles that stretch toward the ceiling. The sudden thought of how they manage to keep the endless array of bottles dust-free momentarily distracts me, but I sense Rick's gaze lingering on me from the corner of my eye.

Turning to meet his stare, I find him watching me, his features settling into that familiar unreadable mask once again. His gaze holds a depth that momentarily captivates me, drawing me into the pools of blue, amplified by the haze of alcohol swirling within me.

I blink slowly, feeling momentarily lost in the intensity of his eyes, the world around us fading into the background.

"What can I get you, honey?" a tired voice asks from behind the bar, jolting me from the moment. Gulping and blinking rapidly, tearing my gaze away from Rick to focus on the young male bartender, who awaits my order expectantly.

"Oh, um, two espresso martinis and a blackberry cosmo please," I order, clearing my throat in an attempt to dispel the lingering effects of Rick's gaze.

"Nice choices. God, I swear no one has taste anymore. I'll make those for you right now gorgeous," the friendly and very clearly gay bartender assures me with a playful grin. I offer him an appreciative smile, but before I can express my gratitude, he turns around, busying himself with preparing our drinks.

"Told you," Rick murmurs smugly right beside my ear, his warm breath grazing my neck, sending a delightful shiver down my spine.

Unsuccessfully fighting back a smile, I turn to face Rick, blinking as I find his face unexpectedly close to mine. He's smiling back at me, that familiar pride of winning shining in his eyes.

I can't find myself being too upset, realizing this means Rick never exactly said I was unattractive, just that it wouldn't work on the bartender.

"Here you go, hon," the bartender interrupts, his voice breaking through the charged atmosphere. I turn towards him, impressed by how quickly he made our drinks.

"Thank you," I reply with a smile, sliding off the barstool to retrieve the drinks, eager to rejoin Soph and Michonne. However, as I hop down I stumble slightly on the residue of a spilled drink, my balance wavering.

Before I can fully slip, Rick's warm hands steady me, their touch sending a jolt of electricity coursing through me. I look up at him, my heart pounding against my ribcage as his hands rest on either side of my torso, just beneath my breasts.

Quickly releasing me, Rick steps back, creating a respectful distance between us. I cast my gaze downward, attempting to collect myself and conceal the flurry of emotions swirling within me.

"See you Monday," I murmur to Rick, my voice barely above a whisper as I gather the drinks and begin to carefully make my way back to Soph and Michonne.

"Monday," Rick confirms from behind me quietly, his voice carrying a hint of something I can't quite decipher. I don't respond, focusing instead on navigating the crowded bar as I walk away, each step feeling slightly unsteady.

"Need anything else, handsome?" the bartender inquires, addressing Rick as I move further away.

A small smile quirks at the corner of my lips at the reminder that Rick was right. 

_______

A/N: Also, I did in fact have to test out the logistics of the pen scene with my own pen and my roommate walked in on me doing it and I looked like an idiot🧍the things I do for my writing LMAO