From Dictator to lover

Morning

Nicholas’s POV

I woke to the soft sound of her breathing, the early morning light filtering through the curtains and casting a golden glow across her bare shoulder.

For a moment, I let myself just look at her. She was still asleep, her hair a mess, her lips slightly parted. She looked peaceful, vulnerable in a way I’d never seen before.

And all I could think was how much I’d screwed up.

I ran a hand through my hair, careful not to wake her, as the weight of what we’d done settled over me. This wasn’t just a line we’d crossed—it was a chasm.

But as I sat there, watching her stir and mumble something incoherent, I couldn’t bring myself to regret it.

Harper’s POV

I woke up to the warmth of sunlight—and Nicholas Maxwell’s arm draped over my waist.

For a moment, I thought I was dreaming. But when I turned and saw him watching me, his expression unreadable, reality hit me like a freight train.

“Oh my God,” I whispered, sitting up and clutching the sheet to my chest.

“Good morning to you too,” he said, his tone dry but softer than I expected.

“This can’t happen,” I blurted, my mind racing.

“It already did,” he said simply, sitting up and running a hand through his hair.

I glared at him, frustration and panic warring in my chest. “Nicholas, we can’t just—this changes everything.”

He looked at me, his green eyes steady. “It does.”

The room fell silent, the weight of what we’d done hanging heavy in the air.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said finally, his voice calm but firm.

I couldn’t look at him.

I’d barely managed to mumble an excuse to leave the room and lock myself in the bathroom. My reflection stared back at me, flushed cheeks and disheveled hair a reminder of everything that had happened.

“This can’t be real,” I whispered to myself, gripping the sink.

When I finally emerged, dressed and clutching my bag like a lifeline, Nicholas was sitting at the edge of my bed, fully dressed. He looked up, and I saw something in his eyes I didn’t recognize—regret? Concern?

“We need to talk,” he said, his voice calm but firm.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I replied quickly, my voice shaking. “This was a mistake. A huge mistake.”

“Harper—”

“No,” I cut him off, shaking my head. “I can’t do this. I can’t… face you at work after what happened. I’m going to HR today. I’ll ask for a reassignment—or I’ll leave. I can’t stay.”

His jaw tightened, and he stood, his tall frame towering over me as he stepped closer. “You’re not leaving,” he said firmly.

“You don’t get to decide that,” I shot back, my frustration breaking through my panic.

“I’m not asking you to forget what happened,” he said, his voice softening. “But you can’t leave. Not yet. Give it two weeks—just two weeks to see if we can keep things professional. If we can’t… then we’ll figure it out.”

I hesitated, his words tugging at something deep inside me. “Why does it matter so much to you?”

He looked at me then, really looked at me, and for a moment, I thought he might say something that would change everything. But instead, he just said, “Because you’re the best at what you do.”

I swallowed hard, my chest tight. “Two weeks,” I muttered, not meeting his gaze. “That’s it.”

His shoulders eased slightly, a flicker of relief passing over his face. “Two weeks,” he agreed, his tone steady.

Before I could turn away, before I could retreat into the safety of distance, Nicholas closed the gap between us in two quick steps.

“Harper,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

I looked up, surprised, and before I could process what was happening, he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a firm but gentle embrace. For a moment, I froze, the feel of his warmth, his strength, catching me off guard.

“I don’t regret this,” he murmured, his breath warm against my temple. “Not for a second.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing, letting myself melt into the hug for the briefest of moments before he leaned back slightly. His hands lingered on my arms as he looked down at me, his green eyes softer now, filled with something I couldn’t name.

And then, before I could even react, he dipped his head and pressed a kiss to my lips. It was slow, lingering, and far too tender for the chaos of the morning.

When he pulled away, his gaze stayed locked on mine for a beat longer. “Goodbye, Harper,” he said softly, his voice steady but laced with something deeper.

And just like that, he turned and walked out the door, leaving me standing there, my heart racing and my mind spinning.

I touched my fingers to my lips, still feeling the warmth of his kiss, and realized that the two weeks ahead were going to be anything but simple.