More Than My Boss

Stay Late

The office felt different after hours.

Quieter.

Looser.

More dangerous.

I should’ve gone home.

That thought had been circling in my head for the last thirty minutes, right alongside the memory of Ethan’s voice, low and steady—

I’m glad it’s you.

I set my bag down on my desk anyway.

Because of course I did.

Because when Ethan Blake asked you to stay late, you stayed.

Even when you knew better.

Especially when you knew better.

“Abby?”

His voice carried easily down the hallway, pulling my attention from the emails I’d been pretending to focus on.

“In here,” I called back, forcing my tone into something normal. Professional.

Safe.

He appeared a second later, sleeves rolled to his forearms, tie gone, the top button of his shirt undone.

It shouldn’t have mattered.

It absolutely did.

“Sorry to keep you,” he said, stepping inside my office. “This pitch deck is a mess, and I don’t trust anyone else to help me fix it.”

My chest tightened slightly at that.

I ignored it.

“Good thing you have me then,” I said lightly, turning my screen toward him. “What are we working with?”

He moved closer, stepping behind my chair instead of taking the one beside me.

Close enough that I could feel the heat of him.

Close enough that I became very aware of my breathing.

“This,” he said, leaning slightly over my shoulder as he pointed to the screen, “needs to be restructured completely. The numbers are solid, but the delivery—”

“—is confusing,” I finished.

“Exactly.”

His voice was right there.

Too close.

I forced myself to focus on the screen, clicking through slides, making notes, asking questions—anything to keep my mind from drifting.

From noticing things I shouldn’t.

Like the way his hand rested on the back of my chair.

Or how easily he fit into my space.

Or how natural it felt.

“Move this section up,” I said, gesturing. “You’re burying your strongest point.”

He didn’t respond right away.

For a second, I thought maybe he disagreed.

Then—

“You’re good at this,” he said quietly.

Something in my chest shifted.

“It’s my job,” I replied, a little too quickly.

“It’s more than that.”

I shook my head, forcing a small smile. “Flattery isn’t going to make this go faster.”

“That wasn’t flattery.”

The words were simple.

The tone wasn’t.

I turned slightly in my chair before I could stop myself—and instantly regretted it.

Because now he was right there.

Closer than before.

Close enough that if either of us moved—

I pulled back first, clearing my throat as I turned back to the screen. “Okay. Let’s just fix this before it gets any worse.”

“Right,” he said.

But he didn’t move away.

Not immediately.

It took a few seconds longer than it should have.

A few seconds I felt all the way down to my fingertips.

An hour later, we were still working.

The office had gone completely quiet, the rest of the floor dark except for the soft glow of my desk lamp and the light from my screen.

I leaned back slightly, stretching. “Okay, that’s… actually a lot better.”

Ethan exhaled, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “That’s because you fixed it.”

“We fixed it,” I corrected.

He glanced at me, something unreadable flickering across his expression. “You always do that.”

“Do what?”

“Make it sound like it’s a team effort.”

“It is.”

He held my gaze for a second longer than necessary.

“Not really.”

Before I could respond, his phone buzzed against the desk.

The sound cut through the moment like a blade.

He glanced down at the screen.

Something shifted.

Not dramatically.

But enough.

“Katie?” I asked before I could stop myself.

His jaw tightened slightly. “Yeah.”

I turned back to my computer, giving him space. “You should take it.”

He didn’t move right away.

“It’s fine,” he said. “It can wait.”

That… didn’t feel right.

“She’s your girlfriend,” I said carefully. “You probably shouldn’t ignore her.”

A pause.

Then—

“She’s out with friends,” he said. “It’s not urgent.”

Something about the way he said it made my stomach twist.

Because it wasn’t just casual.

It was… distant.

I clicked through another slide, trying to ignore the way that made me feel.

Trying not to read into something that wasn’t mine to read into.

“You don’t have to stay,” he added after a moment. “I know it’s late.”

I let out a quiet breath. “You asked me to help.”

“I did.”

“Then I’m staying.”

Silence settled between us again.

But this time, it felt different.

Heavier.

More aware.

“Abby.”

My name sounded different coming from him now.

I looked up.

Mistake.

Because there it was again.

That look.

Less guarded than before.

Less careful.

“You don’t have to keep proving yourself,” he said.

My chest tightened. “I’m not—”

“Yes, you are.”

The words weren’t harsh.

They were certain.

“You don’t have to earn your place here,” he continued. “You already have it.”

I swallowed, my grip tightening slightly on the edge of my desk.

This was… too much.

Too personal.

“You’re my boss,” I said quietly. “That’s literally your job—to say things like that.”

Something in his expression shifted.

“Is that what you think this is?”

I didn’t answer.

Because I didn’t trust myself to.

Because I didn’t know what this was anymore.

The silence stretched.

Thick.

Unsteady.

Dangerous.

Then—

His hand moved.

Not fast.

Not hesitant either.

Just… intentional.

It brushed lightly against mine where it rested on the desk.

Barely there.

But enough.

Enough to send a sharp, electric pulse straight up my arm.

I froze.

So did he.

For a second, neither of us moved.

Neither of us spoke.

And somehow, that was worse.

Because it meant we both felt it.

Every bit of it.

Then he pulled back.

Like he had to.

Like he remembered.

The air shifted instantly.

Colder.

Clearer.

Safer.

I exhaled slowly, staring down at my hands.

“We should probably finish this,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

But neither of us moved right away.

Because something had already changed.

Something neither of us could undo.