Ethan’s smile lingers, his eyes dipping to my mouth. He feels it too. My pulse kicks. Suddenly, the office feels far too small and the door far too open for the way we’re staring at each other.
I clear my throat and rock back on my heels, breaking the spell.
Ethan runs a hand through his hair and takes a step backwards. “Well, after you’re settled in, come to my office and we’ll figure out where to go from here.”
Professionally, he means. As part of my new role with True North.
I have to remind myself of this as a very clear image of Ethan closing the door and bending me over this desk forms in my brain. It’s half memory, half fantasy, and entirely overwhelming. My skin flushes, a fact that Ethan surely notices but doesn’t mention out loud.
He pauses for a second, eyes flicking over my face then roaming slightly lower.
“Sure, give me twenty,” I say, my voice flaring a little too high.
Ethan nods then turns to leave.
Twenty minutes later, I’m sitting in Ethan’s office. It’s the first of many days, and many nights, that we spend together in there. This type of acquisition is a lot of work. It’s new to both of us, so we’re both stumbling our way through, forging a new path for True North in an unknown market. Before long, we’re laughingand joking around like we used to. And on more than one occasion, we nearly lose ourselves to the moment with a familiar touch or a lingering look.
Near-kisses become the norm during late-night sessions.
Off-hour texts become commonplace. It doesn’t take long for those to become personal, and that’s a slippery slope. One minute we’re texting about budgets and reports and international law. The next, we’re swapping shared memories and inside jokes via text on a Saturday morning over coffee in our respective kitchens.
And late at night, with my bedroom lit only by the glow of my phone, Ethan and I say all the things that we can’t within the confines of the office.
His most recent late-night confession:I know I’m supposed to be giving you time and space, but I also need you to know that I miss you so fucking much that I can barely function some nights.
I lie awake considering my reply for a long time then finally type:I’m ready.
***
The next day at work… nothing.
Ethan arrives a tad later than usual and summons me to his office, where we talk strictly about work. Nothing else. Not even a hint of anything else. Just spreadsheets and corporate jargon.
Around two o’clock, my patience finally snaps. “Did you get my text last night?” I ask, unable to mask the tinge of irritation in my voice.
Ethan looks up, meeting my eyes. “I did.”
I wait.
And wait.
Any second now, he’ll elaborate. He’ll say something. A syllable. A grunt. I’d even take a meaningful eyebrow twitch. Literallyanythingat all.
Instead, he clears his throat and launches right back into talking about how tariffs might impact our risk analysis.
Infuriating.
I don’t know what I expected. It’s not like Ethan would ravage me right here on his desk. But there has to be some middle ground between desktop ravaging and talking these work reports to death, right?
Ever since we ended things, Ethan has made it perfectly clear that he wanted to fix it. He’d do whatever it takes. Wait however long I needed. And now that I’ve made it perfectly clear that I’m ready, he won’t even acknowledge the words.
Eventually, I retreat to my office to stew in private. At six o’clock, my phone rings. It’s Ethan. He tells me he printed some sensitive documents, and they must’ve gone to the wrong printer. We need to split up and track them down. I’m assigned floors one through five; he’ll take six through ten. I sigh and agree, because apparently I’m not doing anything else today.
Five fruitless floors later, I pop into Ethan’s office and find it empty. He must still be trying to hunt down the paperwork, so I head back to my office.
When I walk through the doorway, I stop dead in my tracks. A massive bouquet of flowers sits on my desk, filling the office with a sweet, delicate scent. I take a few steps closer, eyes catching on the book that definitely wasn’t there before. It has a soft black leather cover and gold letters across the front:Our Story.
My chest tightens and soars at the same time.