HIS SECRET ADDICTION

CHAPTER TEN

Alex's POV

I'd been lying to Maya for three days straight, and she knew it.

"You're acting weird," she said, cornering me in the break room Monday morning. "Weirder than usual."

"I'm fine."

"You jumped when Damien walked past your office yesterday. You literally jumped."

"I was startled."

"You've worked here three weeks. You know who works here." She crossed her arms. "What's going on?"

"Nothing."

"Alex."

"Maya, drop it."

She studied me, then sighed. "Fine. But when you're ready to talk, I'm here."

I nodded, guilt twisting in my stomach. Maya was my best friend, and I couldn't tell her the truth—that I'd been secretly dating our CEO for almost a year, that we'd broken up via text three days ago, and that now I had to work directly with him on the biggest campaign of my career.

Damien had moved to New York two days after I took the job. Catherine had called an emergency board meeting, there'd been threats of resignation, but somehow he'd made it work. He was CEO, he was in New York, and he was living ten blocks from my apartment.

We hadn't spoken since the text.

"Alex, my office." Damien's voice made me flinch.

Maya raised an eyebrow. "Weird," she mouthed.

I followed him down the hall, hyper-aware of the space between us. His office was corner view, twice the size of mine, and completely impersonal except for one photo of Eleanor on his desk.

"Close the door," he said.

I did.

"We need to talk about the Henderson account."

Right. Work. Professional. "What about it?"

"You're lead. I'm overseeing. Which means we'll be working together daily for the next three months."

"I'm aware."

"Are you?" He looked at me directly for the first time since I'd arrived. "Because if this is going to be a problem—"

"It won't be."

"You can't even look at me."

"I'm looking at you right now."

"You're looking at my forehead." He moved closer. "We need to establish ground rules."

"Fine. Rule one: we're professionals. Rule two: what happened between us stays between us. Rule three: we don't talk about it."

"Those are terrible rules."

"They're the only ones I have."

He was quiet for a moment. "I moved here for you."

"I didn't ask you to."

"You didn't have to."

"Damien—"

"I know. Professional distance. I'm trying." He sat on the edge of his desk. "But you should know the board is watching both of us. Any hint of impropriety and they'll use it to force me out."

"Then we don't give them any hints."

"Easier said than done when I want to kiss you every time you walk into a room."

My breath caught. "Don't."

"Don't what? Tell the truth?"

"Don't make this harder than it already is."

"You made it hard when you took the job and ended things via text."

"You gave me no choice! You showed up offering to sacrifice everything—"

"Because I love you."

"Well, I can't handle that kind of love!" The words came out louder than intended. I lowered my voice. "I can't be the reason you lose everything your grandmother built."

"That's my decision to make."

"Not when it affects me too." I moved toward the door. "Is that everything? For the Henderson account?"

"No. We have a meeting with the client Thursday. Dinner meeting. Just us."

"Can't someone else go?"

"You're lead. I'm CEO. They expect both of us." He stood. "Unless you can't handle being alone with me for a few hours?"

"I can handle it."

"Prove it."

The challenge in his voice made something in me snap. "Fine. Thursday. Send me the details."

I left before he could see how much my hands were shaking.

The next three days were torture. Every meeting, every passing in the hallway, every email felt charged with everything we weren't saying. Maya kept asking questions I couldn't answer. My work suffered because I couldn't focus. And Damien was everywhere—in meetings, in my thoughts, in my dreams.

Thursday came too fast.

The dinner was at some expensive restaurant in Midtown, the kind with white tablecloths and prix fixe menus. The Henderson executives were older, traditional, and clearly impressed that the CEO himself was handling their account.

Damien was brilliant. Charming, strategic, hitting every point perfectly. I tried to focus on the presentation, but I kept getting distracted by his hands, his voice, the way he looked at me when he thought no one was watching.

"You two work well together," Mrs. Henderson said as dessert arrived. "How long have you been a team?"

"Almost a year," Damien said smoothly. "Alex transferred from our Austin office specifically to work on strategic accounts like yours."

"And you followed him to New York?"

"The company needed a stronger presence here. Alex's move made the decision easier."

She smiled knowingly. "I'm sure it did."

My stomach dropped. Did she suspect?

The dinner ended with handshakes and promises to send contracts by Monday. Damien and I walked out together, the late September air cool against my skin.

"That went well," I said.

"They suspect."

"What?"

"They suspect we're involved. The way she looked at us, the questions—"

"You're paranoid."

"Am I?" He stopped walking. "Everyone suspects, Alex. Maya, the board, now clients. We're not as subtle as we think."

"Then we need to be more subtle."

"Or we could stop pretending."

"We're not pretending. There's nothing to pretend about. We're over."

"Are we?" He stepped closer. "Because it doesn't feel over."

"Damien—"

"Tell me you don't feel this. Tell me you don't think about that weekend every single day."

"It doesn't matter what I feel."

"It's the only thing that matters."

I should have walked away. Instead, I said, "What do you want from me?"

"Everything. Nothing. I don't know anymore." He ran a hand through his hair. "I just know I can't keep doing this. Working with you, seeing you every day, pretending I don't—"

His phone rang. He glanced at it, and his face went pale.

"What?"

"It's the hospice." He answered. "This is Damien Ross."

I watched his expression change, watched him age ten years in ten seconds.

"I'll be there in twenty minutes." He hung up. "Eleanor's dying. They said I should come now."

"I'll come with you."

"Alex—"

"I'm coming."

We caught a cab, and I held his hand the entire way, professional distance forgotten. When we arrived, the nurse met us with sympathetic eyes.

"She's been asking for you both," she said.

Both?

We entered the room, and Eleanor smiled weakly from her bed.

"Finally," she whispered. "I was wondering when you two would stop being stupid."

Damien sat beside her. "Eleanor—"

"Shh. I'm dying, I get to talk." She looked at me. "You must be Alex. He showed me pictures. You're prettier in person."

"Thank you?"

"Damien, did you tell him?"

"Tell me what?" I asked.

Eleanor's smile turned mischievous. "That he put you in his will. Made you a board member. Gave you everything you need to fight them together."

I stared at Damien. "What is she talking about?"

His face confirmed it was true.

"Surprise," Eleanor said weakly. "Now kiss him before I die without seeing you two happy."

But before either of us could move, her monitors started screaming.