Clara Bennett
The afternoon dragged on slower than I expected. I sat at my desk trying to focus on the expense reports Ryder had asked me to organize, but my mind kept drifting.
The new navy dress felt soft against my skin, a constant reminder of how Ryder had stepped in without hesitation.
Every time I moved, I caught a faint whiff of his scent from the shirt I had worn earlier.
My fingers kept brushing against the moonstone necklace, and each time they did, guilt twisted harder in my stomach.
Ryder walked out of his office carrying a stack of folders. He stopped beside my desk and placed them down gently.
“These need to be reviewed before the gala tonight,” he said, his deep voice calm. “Take your time. If anything doesn’t make sense, ask me.”
I looked up at him, nodding. “Yes,
