Desired By My Ruthless Billionaire Boss

Chapter 6: Liquid Courage

[ALESSIA POV]

It only lasted three days.

Three days of replaying that almost-kiss scenario in the parking lot. Three days of remembering how close his lips had been to mine. How his fingers had felt against my cheeks turning red.

Three days of Nora's name interrupting everything.

By Wednesday, the office gossip reached a new level. Someone had left a printed photo of me and Fernandes at the coffee station—just us standing near each other at some company event—with "CEO's Pet" scrawled across it in red marker.

I threw it in the trash, but the damage was done already.

By Friday evening, I was done. Done pretending I didn't care. Done ignoring the whispers, Done thinking about Fernandes Woods.

I needed to forget everything.

The A&D Club was exactly what I needed.The loud music, expensive drinks, and enough bodies packed onto the dance floor that I could likely disappear into the crowd.

I'd worn the red dress. The one that made me feel dangerous instead of tired.

My friend Miraya was bartending, and she raised her eyebrows when she saw me slide onto a stool.

"Rough week?"

"Tequila. Now."

She poured without asking questions.

The first shot burned. The second one went down easier. By the third, I was starting to feel warm and loose and like maybe everything wasn't really falling apart.

"Slow down," Miraya warned. "You're going to regret this tomorrow."

"That's tomorrow's problem babes."

"What happened?"

I laughed bitterly. "My boss almost kissed me. Then his ex-fiancée called. And now everyone at work thinks I'm sleeping with him anyway, so I might as well have actually done it."

Miraya's eyes widened. "Wait, your boss—the CEO—almost kissed you?"

"Almost. Keyword: almost." I downed another shot. "Story of my life."

"Girl..." She leaned closer. "Do you like him?"

"Doesn't matter. He's my boss. He's engaged—or was engaged—or something. And I'm just the girl from customer service who everyone thinks is a homewrecker."

"You're not—"

"I need air." I slid off the stool, grabbed my clutch. "I'll be back."

"Alessia, you're drunk—"

"I'm fine."

I pushed through the crowd toward the exit, needing space, needing air, needing to not think about Fernandes Woods for five goddamn minutes.

The smoking area was quieter—just a few people scattered around, the music muffled through the walls.

I leaned against the brick wall and fumbled for a cigarette.

The nicotine hit my lungs, and I finally felt like I could breathe.

"Those will kill you."

I froze.

That voice.

I turned slowly.

Fernandes Woods stood ten feet away, leaning against the opposite wall, a drink in his hand.

He wasn't in a suit. Just dark jeans and a black button-down with the sleeves rolled up. He looked... different. Younger. More human.

And he was staring at me.

"What are you doing here?" The words came out sharper than I intended.

"Same thing you are, apparently." His eyes swept over me—the red dress, the heels, the cigarette between my fingers. "Trying to forget."

My heart was pounding. "Forget what?"

He didn't answer. Just took a slow sip of his drink, his gaze never leaving mine.

"You shouldn't be here," I said.

"Neither should you."

"I can go wherever I want."

"So can I." He pushed off the wall and walked toward me. Slow and Deliberate.

I should have moved. Should have gone back inside.

But I couldn't.

He stopped in front of me. Close. Too close.

"You look..." He trailed off, his jaw tightening.

"What?"

"Different."

"Good different or bad different?"

"Dangerously different."

The word hung between us.

I took a drag of my cigarette, trying to ignore the way my hands were shaking. "You didn't answer my question. What are you trying to forget?"

His eyes darkened. "You."

The cigarette nearly fell from my fingers.

"Me?"

"You." He stepped closer. "I've been trying to forget the way you looked in that parking lot. The way you felt when I touched you. The way you said my name."

My breath caught. "Fernandes—"

"I shouldn't want you." His voice was rough now, raw. "You work for me. It's completely inappropriate. But I can't stop thinking about you."

"You had three days to tell me that."

"I know."

"Three days to do something. Anything.But instead, you avoided me."

"I know."

"And now you show up here and tell me you can't stop thinking about me?" I laughed, but it came out bitter. "What am I supposed to do with that?"

"I don't know." He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't have an answer, Alessia. All I know is that I saw you walk in wearing that dress, and I couldn't stay away."

My pulse was racing. "You're drunk."

"Not drunk enough."

"Then you're insane."

"Probably."

We stood there, inches apart, the air between us electric.

"What about Nora?" I asked quietly.

His expression hardened. "There is no Nora. Not anymore. That ended months ago."

"She doesn't seem to think so."

"I don't care what she thinks." He stepped even closer. "I care what you think."

"I think..." My voice shook. "I think this is a terrible idea."

"I agree."

"I think if we cross this line, there's no going back."

"I know."

"I think you're my boss, and this could ruin everything."

"It could." His eyes dropped to my lips. "Tell me to leave, Alessia."

I couldn't.

"Tell me you don't want this."

I couldn't do that either.

His hand lifted, fingers brushing my jaw, tilting my face up to his.

"Last chance," he whispered.

I dropped the cigarette and crushed it under my heel.

Then I grabbed his shirt and pulled him down to me.

His lips crashed against mine.

The kiss was nothing like I'd imagined. It was desperate. Hungry. Like we'd both been starving and finally found something to fill in the emptiness.

His hands gripped my waist, pulling me against him. I tangled my fingers in his hair, and he groaned against my mouth.

Everything disappeared. the club, the gossip and the consequences.

There was only this and only him.

When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard.

"We shouldn't have done that," he said, his forehead resting against mine.

"I know."

"This complicates everything."

"I know right."

But neither of us moved away though.

His thumb traced my bottom lip. "Come home with me."

My heart stopped. "What?"

"Come home with me." His voice was rough, desperate. "One night. No consequences, No rules, Just us."

Every rational part of my brain screamed no.

But the tequila and the kiss and the way he was looking at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered...

"Yes," I whispered.

His eyes darkened with something that looked like relief and hunger all at once.

He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the exit.

We were halfway across the club when I saw her.

Nora.

She was standing near the VIP section, stunning in a white dress, surrounded by people who looked like they belonged in fashion magazines.

And she was staring right at us.

At our joined hands.

At the way, Fernandes was pulling me through the crowd like he couldn't wait to get me alone.

Our eyes met for one brief, terrible moment.

And I saw the exact second she understood what was happening.

Her expression didn't change. But something cold and calculating flickered in her eyes.

Then we were past her, out the door, and into the night.

Fernandes' car was parked in the VIP lot—sleek, black, and expensive.

He opened the passenger door for me, and I hopped in, my heart racing so hard I thought it might burst anytime soon.

This was insane.

This was reckless.

This was going to ruin everything.

But when he got in beside me and his hand found mine in the darkness, I didn't care.

"Are you sure?" he asked quietly.

I looked at him—really looked at him. At the man who'd defended me in the board room. Who'd given me a chance when no one else would. Who'd almost kissed me in a parking lot and then spent three days trying to stay away.

"Yes," I said. "I'm sure."

He leaned across the console and kissed me again. Slower this time. Deeper.

When he pulled back, his eyes were dark with promise.

"Then let's go."

The engine roared to life.

And as we pulled out of the parking lot, I caught a glimpse of Nora in the rearview mirror.

She was on her phone.

And she was smiling.