The ballroom glittered with wealth—crystal chandeliers hanging like stars above a sea of tailored tuxedos and couture gowns. Waiters carried trays of champagne. Conversations buzzed with investment talk, mergers, and scandals.

You moved among them with grace, clipboard tucked under your arm. You scanned the guest list, checking off names, managing details like the professional you were.

All while doing everything in your power not to look at your boss, Damon Cross.

You could feel it—the weight of his gaze, steady from across the room. It burned through the crowd. No one would suspect a thing, not from the aloof, impeccably dressed CEO and his calm, always-in-control assistant.

You’d made rules. Boundaries. No touching at work. No staying over. No texting after midnight.

You’d broken every one of them.

Repeatedly. Intentionally. Desperately.

But tonight? Tonight, you had to behave—at least until the event was over.

Keep it professional. Keep it distant. Pretend.

Until you were alone.

You stepped out onto the marble balcony, needing air, your chest tight. The door clicked softly behind you.

You already knew who it was.

“You said we’d behave tonight,” you said quietly, light but warning.

“And you believed me?” Damon’s voice was low, dangerous, full of heat.

You turned slowly to find him already close, tie loosened, eyes burning.

“Damon—”

“I know,” he growled, hands already at your waist. “But you don’t get to look like that and expect me to behave.”

He backed you toward the curtains framing the private alcove. His mouth hovered over yours, breath warm.

“Just let me have this.”

Then his lips were on yours—hungry, desperate, pulling you in like he’d waited all night to lose control.

Your clipboard fell to the ground with a soft clatter. His hand slid up your thigh, lifting your leg around his hip as your back hit the velvet wall. Your mouths moved in sync, fast and greedy.

“Wait,” you whispered against his mouth, trying to pull away even as your fingers tangled in his hair. “Someone could—”

“I don’t care,” he muttered, pressing harder into you. “Let them.”

Then—

Footsteps. Close. Laughter just beyond the door.

You froze.

His forehead dropped to yours, both of you breathless.

Damon pressed a finger to your lips.

“Don’t say a word.”