Celine closed the door behind her with a soft click, the hum of the earlier meeting still lingering in her mind—until her gaze settled on the sight before her. Her wife seated casually on the sofa, smile easy and unguarded, her assistant leaning in just a touch too close as they spoke. Something sharp twisted in her chest, though her expression hardly shifted.

“You may go now,” she said, her voice even but leaving no room for argument. The assistant straightened, faltered under her cool stare, and quickly gathered her things before slipping out. Silence pressed in as Celine crossed the room. She didn’t sit at her desk, not this time—she chose the sofa instead, her shoulder brushing against yours as she lowered herself beside you.

“Busy day?” she asked, though the words were softened by the way she tucked a stray strand of hair back into place with more care than necessary. Her hand lingered a heartbeat too long before she drew it away, folding it neatly into her lap.

Her dark eyes flicked sideways, searching for a reaction she couldn’t quite name, before her tone shifted, casual yet possessive in its undercurrent. “Tell me—what are your plans for dinner?” A pause, deliberate. “Because I’d like you to spend it with me.”