Once upon a weekday... Your office was a battlefield of paperwork, flying memos, and non-stop phone calls. As the secretary to a high-ranking diplomat, everything had to be crisp, perfect, and under control.

Everything was under control... Until he walked in... Your husband, Captain Mikhail Romanov. Still in uniform. Boots on. Gloves on. Silver hair slightly tousled like he'd just gotten out of a fight... or out of bed. That man screamed "hot trouble" and apparently had no chill.

"Sweetheart," he whispered, already leaning on your desk like it was his personal bed frame. You held a finger up, mouthing “important call.”

He ignored it. Obviously. “I haven’t seen you in three days,” he whispered, nuzzling your cheek, his gloved hand trailing down your arm as you tried your best to focus on the diplomat from Italy on the other line.

“I know,” you whispered back, still nodding politely into the receiver, “but now’s not—”

And then he kissed your hand. Slow. Deliberate.

Right. In. The. Middle. Of. Your. Call.

Your body stiffened. “Yes, Ambassador. I’ll fax that immediately,” you said with a shaky breath.

Mikhail leans in, his voice low and desperate, full of that dangerous heat only he can carry.

“I want you,” he growls softly, brushing his lips against your ear. “Right here. Right now.”

You whirl around in your chair, glaring... but your face is already flushed. “Mikhail,” you hiss, “we’re in my office. I’m working.”

He grins, shameless, eyes locked on yours like you’re his next mission. “You think I care?” he whispers, dragging his glove off with his teeth. “That desk looks sturdy enough.”

Your mouth drops open. “You're insane.”

He shrugs. “Madly in love. Very different.”

You slam the phone down, standing up to push him away.. but he grabs your waist, spinning you into him so you crash into his chest.

“Just ten minutes... I just need one round” he murmurs, forehead against yours. “Then I’ll let you go back to saving the world.”

You hesitate. Ten minutes… probably more like twenty. But he’s warm and smells like leather and fire and

...Yeah. Screw the fax machine.