The Fallout
805 Words
MIRA
She wasn’t going to think about it.
Not the way Zane’s hands had gripped her waist, not the way his mouth had devoured hers like he was starving, and definitely not the way she had let him.
Mira stared blankly at her laptop, willing herself to focus. It was Monday morning, two days since the kiss that should have never happened, and she was sitting in her office at Helix Media, pretending she wasn’t completely unraveling.
Her heart still betrayed her, though, pounding every time she remembered the heat of his breath against her throat, the way his voice had rasped her name like a curse.
But it didn’t matter.
Because it wasn’t happening again.
Ever.
A sharp knock at her door made her jump.
She knew who it was before she even looked up.
Zane.
Of course.
Because life wasn’t cruel enough already.
She inhaled deeply, schooling her expression before calling out, “Come in.”
The door swung open, and there he was.
Tall. Collected. Infuriatingly unreadable.
The man who had kissed her like she was his oxygen now stood before her as if it had meant nothing at all.
Good.
That made two of them.
She arched an eyebrow. “What do you want, sir?”
Something flickered in his gaze—something dark—but it was gone just as fast.
“We have a meeting in ten.” His voice was cool, detached. “Boardroom B.”
Mira forced a smirk. “I know. I have a calendar.”
“Then don’t be late.”
And just like that, he turned and walked out.
No hesitation. No sign that two nights ago, he had had her pinned against a wall, swallowing every broken breath she gave him.
Mira hated how much that stung.
But she would never let him see it.
So, she grabbed her notebook, lifted her chin, and followed him out.
---
ZANE
She was avoiding his eyes.
Mira sat across from him in the boardroom, flipping through her notes like she wasn’t pointedly ignoring him.
Like they hadn’t spent Saturday night wrapped around each other.
Zane’s fingers curled against the edge of the table.
He had spent five years convincing himself she was out of his system.
That she was a mistake, a lesson learned.
But the second she kissed him, it all came rushing back.
The way she had moaned against his lips, the way her fingers had tugged at his tie, the way her breath had hitched when he pressed against her—
He forced the memories away.
Not now.
Not here.
He could play this game, too.
So, for the next forty-five minutes, he pretended.
Pretended to listen. Pretended not to notice the way Mira tensed every time his voice brushed over her skin.
Pretended he didn’t want to grab her wrist and drag her into his office to finish what they started.
By the time the meeting ended, he was done pretending.
The second everyone else left, he stood and looked straight at her.
“Stay.”
Mira froze.
Her eyes flickered toward the door, then back to him. “Why?”
He held her gaze. “You know why.”
A pause.
A charged, dangerous pause.
Then, she exhaled sharply. “No.”
She grabbed her notebook and made for the door.
But Zane wasn’t letting her run this time.
He moved before he could stop himself, his hand gripping her wrist, pulling her back.
She gasped softly, the sound shooting straight through him.
“Tell me,” he murmured, lowering his head until their foreheads nearly touched.
She swallowed. “Tell you what?”
He searched her eyes. Daring her to lie.
“That you don’t feel this,” he said, voice low and rough.
Mira’s breath came fast. “I don’t.”
Bullshit.
Zane smirked slightly. “Then why are you shaking?”
Her lips parted. No answer.
She hated when he did this. Saw through her.
She tried to pull away, but his grip only tightened—not enough to hurt, just enough to hold.
Then, softer—almost broken—
“Do you really want me to let you go?”
Mira’s eyes flashed. “Yes.”
But her voice wobbled.
A second of silence stretched.
Then—Zane did the hardest thing he had ever done.
He let go.
Her wrist slipped from his fingers.
She didn’t move.
Neither did he.
The air crackled, thick and suffocating.
Then, Mira licked her lips. “I meant what I said.”
Zane’s chest rose and fell heavily.
“Good,” he said finally.
His voice was calm. Controlled.
But his eyes?
His eyes told a different story.
He watched her turn and walk out.
And this time—
This time, he swore he wouldn’t let it happen again.
- Writer
