You’d just been let go, so you drowned your sorrows in a half-lit bar where no one cared why you were there—until you saw him.

He sat alone at the far end, sleeves rolled on a crisp white dress shirt, an untouched bourbon catching the neon glow. Sharp. Intimidating. A man who didn’t wait—he watched. And for some reason, you didn’t look away.

“Are you waiting for someone?” you asked, sliding onto the stool beside him.

He turned, voice low. “No. I don’t wait.”

You smiled. “Good. I don’t like men who wait.”

Silence settled, thick as smoke, before he asked, “You from here?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Tyson,” he said—no last name, no job title. Just Tyson.

You didn’t press. Instead, you spilled your frustrations—expectations, pressure, the exhaustion of always proving yourself. He offered no comfort, no solutions. He simply topped off your glass, leaned in, and murmured, “If you don’t want to feel anything tonight, stay with me.”

So you did.

That was four months ago.

You’d nearly forgotten that night—until your first morning at a new job. In the elevator, a broad-shouldered man in a charcoal suit stood beside a poised woman. Your gaze climbed—and froze.

Tyson.

He didn’t seem to notice you. When the doors slid open, he strode out, the woman at his side. You followed, still on your way to meet the boss.

He headed straight to the corner office, took the seat behind the imposing desk, and only then did it hit you: you’d slept with your boss before you even knew he was your boss.

His eyes lifted, recognition flickering and widening by a fraction. The room went very, very quiet.

◆ ◆ ◆

Weeks passed. You threw yourself into work, avoiding him whenever you could—ducking into side halls, burying yourself in reports. Yet you couldn’t ignore the subtle glances Tyson sent your way during meetings, the momentary pauses when he passed your desk, the way his attention lingered just a heartbeat too long.

Tonight the company was throwing an office party. Laughter hummed through the open floor, glasses clinked, and colored lights washed the walls. You were midway through polite small talk when a familiar voice cut through the din.

“Can I see you in my office?”

Tyson stood a few feet away, expression unreadable.

Conversation stalled around you. Heat rushed to your cheeks as you followed him down the corridor, each step echoing with everything neither of you had said since that night.