CHAPTER EIGHT
522 Words
Emma told herself she wouldn’t go to him.
She would finish her work. She would pretend that the way he looked at her in the hall hadn’t set her entire body humming.
But by the time the office began to empty for the day, the weight in her chest had grown too heavy to ignore.
At exactly six o’clock, she stood outside his door, her hand poised to knock.
Before she could, his voice came through the wood, low and resigned.
“Come in.”
She stepped inside.
The room was dim, the only light coming from the city burning beyond the windows. Alexander sat behind his desk, his jacket discarded, the top buttons of his shirt undone. He looked tired, shadows etched beneath his eyes.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Finally, he gestured to the chair across from him.
“Sit.”
Emma hesitated, then obeyed.
He studied her in silence, his gaze dark and searching.
“Do you regret it?” he asked quietly.
Her heart twisted. “No.”
Something in his expression eased—just barely.
“But you’re afraid,” he said.
She looked down at her hands. “Aren’t you?”
His jaw flexed. “Yes.”
The honesty in his voice startled her. She lifted her gaze, and for a heartbeat, she saw past the polished control to the man beneath.
“I don’t do this,” he said, his tone low. “I don’t get involved with employees. I don’t…feel like this.”
Her breath caught. “Like what?”
His mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile.
“Like I’d burn this entire company to the ground if it meant keeping you.”
Her chest constricted. “Alexander—”
He rose, coming around the desk until he stood in front of her. He braced his hands on the arms of her chair, caging her in, his gaze steady on hers.
“I need you to understand something,” he murmured. “This isn’t a game to me. It never was.”
She swallowed hard. “Then what is it?”
His voice dropped to a ragged whisper.
“It’s everything I’ve spent my life trying to avoid.”
Her eyes burned. “And now?”
He exhaled, as if confessing a weakness he hated himself for.
“And now I don’t care.”
For a moment, neither of them moved. The only sound was the hush of traffic far below.
Then his hand lifted to her cheek, warm and gentle.
“If you want to walk away,” he said quietly, “I won’t stop you.”
Her throat tightened. “Do you want me to?”
His thumb brushed her skin, lingering.
“No.”
She closed her eyes, her heart beating so hard she could barely speak.
“Then don’t ask me to.”
His breath shuddered out, and when she looked up, she saw the answer in his eyes before he spoke.
“Stay,” he whispered.
And this time, when she rose to meet his kiss, there was no doubt left between them.
- Writer
