BEHIND THE DESK

CHAPTER 11 "Cracks in the Armor"

The storm pressed on, rattling the glass walls of Dominic’s office as if it wanted to break through. Ava sat perched on the edge of the leather chair he had pulled out for her, clutching the water glass he’d given her, though she hadn’t taken a single sip.

Every roll of thunder seemed to vibrate through her bones, but it wasn’t fear of the weather that had her trembling. It was him.

Dominic leaned against his desk, arms crossed, his silhouette sharp in the faint glow of the emergency lights. His suit jacket was gone now, his tie loosened, and the sight of him like this—less polished, less untouchable—stirred something deep inside her.

“Are you afraid of storms?” His voice was softer than usual, not the clipped, commanding tone he used with employees or board members.

“No,” Ava said truthfully, though her voice shook. “I just… don’t like being trapped.”

His eyes flickered with something unreadable. “Neither do I.”

For a moment, neither spoke. The storm outside howled, rain slashing against the glass, but inside the silence stretched, heavy and thick.

Ava set the glass down before she dropped it, her hands restless in her lap. She wanted to fill the quiet, to ease the weight between them, but her mind kept circling back to his words. You make it impossible.

She dared a glance at him. He was watching her, of course. Always watching.

“Dominic—”

Her voice faltered when she realized she’d said his name out loud, not Mr. Hale, not the formal distance she usually clung to. Just Dominic.

He pushed off the desk slowly, like a predator closing in on prey. Every step toward her tightened the coil in her stomach.

When he stopped in front of her chair, she had to tilt her head back to look at him. His shadow fell over her, but there was nothing cold about it. Not now.

“Say it again,” he murmured.

Her lips parted, and though her common sense screamed at her to stay quiet, she whispered, “Dominic.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked. His hand hovered, just a breath away from her cheek, but he didn’t touch her. Not yet.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he said, low and rough.

Her pulse thundered louder than the storm. “Then tell me.”

His laugh was short, humorless. “If I tell you, I won’t be able to stop.”

The admission burned through her. Part of her wanted him to stop, to put the walls back up, to protect what she had built here. But the larger part—the reckless, yearning part—wanted the opposite.

She reached up before she could think better of it, her fingers brushing against the crisp line of his shirt where it opened at his collar. The warmth of his skin beneath startled her, but she didn’t pull away.

His eyes darkened instantly. “Ava…”

She felt the warning in his tone, but there was no conviction behind it.

Her hand trembled as she withdrew, not because she regretted it, but because the air between them was too charged, too alive.

“You’re my boss,” she whispered, the words falling like an anchor between them.

“I’m a man,” he countered, his voice sharp now, as if the reminder pained him. “A man who hasn’t stopped thinking about you for weeks.”

Her breath caught. Weeks. She had thought it was one-sided, that her feelings were dangerous fantasies she should bury. But he had been carrying the same weight.

“Dominic…” She said his name again, and this time it broke something in him.

In one swift movement, he knelt in front of her chair, his hands braced on either side of her legs, caging her in. His face was so close she could see the storm reflected in his eyes.

“I can’t touch you,” he said, his voice strained. “Not here. Not now.”

Her body leaned toward him anyway, betraying her resolve. “Then why does it feel like you already are?”

His breath hitched. For a long, suspended moment, it seemed as though he might close the distance between them, erase every line they had drawn.

But then, with a ragged exhale, he pushed back to his feet. He dragged a hand through his hair, pacing a few steps away. “This is madness.”

Ava rose too, her legs unsteady. “What’s madness is pretending it isn’t happening.”

Their eyes locked across the dimly lit office. The storm still raged outside, but inside, everything was charged silence and unsaid truths.

Finally, Dominic spoke, his voice tight with restraint. “Go home. Before I do something I can’t take back.”

Her heart squeezed. She wanted him to cross that line. She wanted to fall. But she also knew the truth—if she stayed, neither of them would recover.

So she gathered her bag with trembling hands and walked to the door. Before leaving, she glanced back. He stood in the middle of his office, shoulders rigid, fists clenched, every inch of him screaming with tension.

Their eyes met one last time.

And then she stepped into the hall, the storm swallowing her whole.