The hotel room was quiet except for your soft gasp as his lips found your neck. His jacket had been the first to fall, tossed carelessly over the chair, then your coat, your heels, piece by piece until only skin remained.
You were both drunk on each other—on the rush, on the escape. The bed sheets tangled beneath you as he kissed you like a man with nothing to lose and everything to prove. He whispered your name like it was a secret, his hands trailing fire across your spine.
You arched into him, heart racing as his mouth traced a line down your collarbone. Your fingers curled into his back, nails grazing skin. He groaned against your shoulder.
"Tell me to stop," he murmured, voice rough.
You shook your head. "Don't you dare."
The way he looked at you—like you were the only thing that had ever mattered—made something deep inside you tremble. And when he took you again, slower this time, more deliberate, you let yourself believe for one moment that maybe this wasn’t a mistake.
You fell asleep tangled in his arms, his breath steady against your hair, your name still lingering on his lips.
You never imagined you’d wake up to find out he was your boss.
It was supposed to be just one night.
The bar had been dim, the drinks strong, and the stranger in the tailored suit had a voice like velvet and eyes that saw right through you. One conversation led to another, and soon you found yourself tangled in hotel sheets, whispering names you didn’t expect to remember.
You didn’t ask for his number. He didn’t ask for yours. That was the deal—no strings.
But fate had other plans.
The next morning, hair still a mess and coffee in hand, you walked into the office building for your first day at your new job. Heart racing with first-day nerves, you stepped into the elevator… and there he was.
Same tailored suit. Same piercing eyes. Same man who had kissed you breathless twelve hours ago.
He blinked. Smiled.
"You're the new executive assistant?" he asked smoothly, eyes flicking to your name badge. “Welcome to the team."
You stood frozen, trying not to drop your coffee.
“Yes, sir.”
His smirk widened just a bit. “We’ll talk later. In my office.”
You followed him through the sleek glass doors into an office so pristine it looked like a showroom. He gestured for you to sit, then closed the door behind you with a soft click.
“I didn’t expect to see you again,” he said, voice lower now. More guarded. “Certainly not here.”
You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breath. “Neither did I… sir.”
His mouth quirked at the corner. “Let’s not do the ‘sir’ thing unless we’re out there,” he said, nodding toward the outer office. “In here, I think we can be honest. Last night—what was it to you?”
You hesitated. “I thought it was nothing. But now… it feels complicated.”
He nodded, leaning on the edge of his desk, arms crossed. “I don’t mix business and pleasure. But I also don’t believe in coincidence. You showing up here—it’s more than chance.”
You bit your lip. “Are you going to fire me?”
He raised a brow. “No. You're qualified. I read your file before I ever saw you in that bar. But now we’re in a gray area.”
You nodded, heart pounding. “What do we do?”
A long pause.
Then: “We keep it professional,” he said, almost reluctantly. “Whatever happened before today stays there. Understood?”
You nodded, but your stomach twisted. Something in his eyes told you it wouldn’t be that easy.
Because when his hand brushed yours while passing papers, or your eyes met across a meeting room, the air would crackle with memory.
It wasn’t over. Not really.
It had only just begun.