We both froze for a second, listening to the heavy footsteps echoing down the marble corridor.
Marcus didn’t panic, though his hand slid off mine just as the shadow of the night security guard appeared past the frosted glass wall. I grabbed the printed Zurich sheet off the desk and held it up like we were mid-argument over a chart.
“Everything okay in here, Mr. Vance?” the guard asked, poking his head into the doorway with his flashlight hooked to his belt.
“Fine, Ray. Just wrapping up some European numbers before the weekend,” Marcus said smoothly, his voice back to that calm, executive tone like nothing had happened two seconds ago. “Have a good night.”
“You too, sir. Goodnight, Ms. Ross.”
The guard nodded and kept walking toward the stairwell. We stood silent until the heavy fire door clicked shut at the far end of the hall.
I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding and set the paper back down. My heart was hammering against my ribs so hard I felt dizzy. “That was close.”
“Too close,” Marcus agreed quietly. He walked past me, reached out, and pushed the heavy glass door shut until the latch clicked into place. Then he turned the small brass thumb-lock at the bottom.
The room suddenly felt half its normal size. The rain sounded louder against the window now, steady and rhythmic, cutting us off from the rest of the city forty-two floors below.
Marcus didn’t walk back to his chair. He stopped right in front of me, close enough that I could smell the faint cedarwood cologne mixed with dark coffee on his collar. He looked down at me, his expression stripped of every ounce of corporate armor he wore during the day.
“You never answered my question before Ray interrupted,” he said softly.
“Marcus, you’re my boss.”
“And you’re the sharpest person in this building, which means you already know I’ve been trying to stay away from you for four months.” He raised a hand slowly, letting the backs of his knuckles brush along my cheek, his thumb catching just beneath my jawline. “I promoted you early because I thought putting you on another team would make it easier. It didn’t.”
His touch was warm, steady, and completely unapologetic. Every excuse I’d rehearsed in my head for weeks vanished on the spot. Instead of pulling back, I leaned into his palm, feeling the rough heat of his skin against mine.
“You’re terrible at staying away,” I whispered.
A low, quiet laugh vibrated in his chest. “Worst decision I’ve ever made.”
He leaned down, pausing for a fraction of a second to give me a chance to turn away. When I didn’t, his mouth met mine.
It wasn’t rushed or clumsy. His lips were warm, firm, tasting faintly of espresso and rain, moving against mine with a slow, deliberate hunger that made my knees go weak. My hands came up automatically, my fingers gripping the wrinkled cotton of his dress shirt as he stepped closer, backing me gently until the edge of the mahogany desk pressed against the backs of my thighs.
He groaned softly against my mouth, one hand sliding around my waist to pull me flush against his chest while the other tangled into the loose hair at the nape of my neck, tilting my head up to deepen the kiss. Six months of late meetings, stolen glances across conference tables, and unspoken tension broke open all at once.
When he finally pulled back an inch to catch his breath, his forehead rested against mine, both of us breathing hard in the dim glow of the desk lamp.
“Tell me to stop right now, Elena,” he murmured, his voice rough and uneven. “Because if you don’t, I’m not letting you go home tonight.”
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