IN LOVE WITH MY BOSS

Fractured desires …10

Damian’s POV

Damian Laurent sat behind his desk long after the office lights had dimmed. The city skyline sprawled before him, but all he saw was Claire Bennett’s face. He replayed every moment from the night before—the soft press of her lips, the curve of her neck under his fingertips, the way her body had melted into his.

He closed his eyes and let his imagination wander, picturing her standing in his living room, blouse slipping from her shoulders as his hands traced the line of her collarbone. He remembered the heat of her breath against his mouth, the way her fingers had tangled in his hair, urging him closer. He could feel the warmth of her skin beneath his palms, taste the faint sweetness of her lips, and hear the quiet gasp she’d made when his hand had slid around her waist.

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to the cool glass of his office window. This is wrong, he told himself. She’s an employee. And yet, every rule he’d ever followed seemed to crumble at the thought of her.

He opened his eyes and reached for the phone, thumb hovering over Claire’s extension. No. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He had to draw a line. Because I have a fiancée. He repeated the lie he’d long told himself, a protective barrier against feeling anything too deeply. He pictured the rumored engagement ring—never seen, never confirmed, but always spoken of in boardrooms and social circles. It was his shield, his convenient excuse.

He set the phone down and exhaled. She’s just an employee. The words tasted bitter. He flipped open his laptop and buried himself in the Empire Tower files, determined to drown out her memory with steel beams and glass panels.

⸻

Claire’s POV

Claire walked into the office that morning with a lightness she hadn’t felt in days—until she saw the empty seat where her inbox used to be. No morning memo from Damian. No quick questions about renderings. Just silence.

She passed Carter in the hallway, and he offered her a tight nod. “He’s in a meeting. Didn’t ask for you.”

Her chest tightened. Since the kiss—and the apology—Damian had kept his distance. No more calls. No more late-night reviews. No acknowledgment beyond professional necessity.

Claire sank into her chair, heart heavy. She opened her portfolio folder and stared at the sketches inside. The memory of his lips lingered, warm and impossible. She’d told herself it was a mistake—that he’d been caught up in the moment. Yet a small part of her had dared to hope he felt it too.

But hope was dangerous. She tapped her pen against her desk. He’s just my boss. That’s all. She repeated the mantra like a prayer.

By midday, she realized she’d spent hours staring at the blank screen, unable to focus. She closed her laptop and gathered her things. It was time to accept the truth.

She stood in front of the CEO’s office door, hand poised to knock—an old reflex from when she’d seen him every day. But then she paused. She remembered his apology: That was a mistake. And the way he’d looked at her as he drove her home—distance in his eyes.

Claire exhaled. She wouldn’t let herself be tangled in what-ifs. She turned on her heel and walked back to her desk. She was an employee—valued for her talent, not for the spark between them. And that was enough.

As she sat down, she opened her notebook and made a single note at the top of the page: Keep it professional. Then she began to sketch, each line a reminder of who she was—and who she would remain.