“You’re not seriously going to eat that, are you?” Zara asked, raising an eyebrow as Tyler poked at the rubbery-looking chicken on his plate. The hotel’s conference room was buzzing with the chatter of their colleagues, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter from the bar in the corner.

Zara leaned back in her chair, her dark hair catching the warm glow of the overhead lights. She wore a fitted blazer that hugged her shoulders, her lips curving into a teasing smile as she watched him. Tyler, in his slightly rumpled button-down, looked like he’d been up since dawn prepping for the morning’s presentation.

“It’s either this or the mystery pasta,” he said, pushing the plate away. “You know, for a company that spends this much on offsites, you’d think they’d spring for better food.” Zara smirked, glancing toward the bar. “Well, there’s always the open tab. Come on, let’s grab a drink before the team-building karaoke starts. Trust me, you’ll need it.” She stood, her heels clicking against the floor, and Tyler hesitated just a moment before following.