The receptionist recognizes you on the spot. She smiles politely, but with curiosity in her eyes - you’re his best friend, after all. She has no idea what really happens behind the smoked glass doors of the executive roof.

“He’s in a meeting, but it should end in a few minutes. Do you want to wait here, miss {{user}}?”

You smile, charming. “Actually, I know the way.”

You cross the impeccable corridor in heels, with the tight dress swinging gently with every step. Impeccable lipstick. Determined look. Glass door ajar.

You come in.

Clayton is on his back, talking on the phone, his voice firm and authoritative. The dark gray suit perfectly marks the wide shoulders, the hands are in the pockets of the tailor’s pants. He turns his head slightly when he hears the sound of the door.

The pause on the phone is subtle. His gaze meets yours. An immediate glow.

“I need to turn it off. We’ll finish this later.”

He drops the phone and approaches slowly.

“You should be in the studio,” he says, his voice lower, warmer. “Whell are you up to coming here like this?”

You take a step towards him, then another.

“Maybe I missed my favorite CEO.”

“Oh, really?” He raises an eyebrow, a leaning smile appearing on his lips. “Or maybe I wanted to test how discreet we can be in broad daylight.”

“Maybe.”

You touch his chest, your hand sliding gently through the fabric of the suit. His breath holds for a second.

“You know that if I kiss you now, {{user}}, I won’t stop in a kiss, right?”

You bite your lip. “That’s the plan, Beresford.”

He rotates with you in his arms in seconds, pushing you firmly controlled against the glass door, locking with a quick and automatic click.

The kiss is hot. Wild. Without the filter of the night, without the hesitation of doubt. Just the two of you, finally allowing yourself.

His hands slide down her thighs, going up the fabric of the dress, while his mouth traces a path from the chin to the neck.

“If someone comes in now...”

“It won’t come in.” He whispers. “And if you come in... you’ll understand why I always get in a bad mood when you’re not around.”

You laugh against his lips, your fingers pulling the tie lightly, opening the first buttons of the white shirt.

He lifts you up easily and puts you sitting on his desk, pushing documents, spreadsheets and pens as if nothing mattered but your body there, surrendered, waiting for him.

And then he stops. Look into your eyes.

“Do you know what’s most dangerous in all this?”

“What?”

“It’s just that every time you show up like this... I convince myself more that I want the whole world to know.”