• After the Storm
The office was too quiet.
Not just end-of-day quiet. Deliberate quiet. Like the walls themselves were holding their breath.
Sienna sat at her desk long after everyone else had left, the dim glow of her monitor flickering across her face. She hadn't typed anything in fifteen minutes.
She wasn't working.
Not really.
Not after what happened in the hallway outside the conference room. Not after that look from Julian — fierce and raw and full of things he hadn't said all week. Full of things he wasn't allowed to say.
She touched her lips without thinking.
They still tingled. From the memory. From the almost.
He'd nearly kissed her again — and stopped himself. Not because he didn't want to. Because he did.
Too much.
That was the problem.
That's why he'd shut down after the gala. That's why he could barely look at her. That's why Lana's sudden reappearance felt like a knife twisted in her back. He was scared — not of her — but of himself.
And Sienna Cole, professional, poised, headstrong Sienna, had spent the past week pretending she wasn't slowly falling for the man unraveling behind those glass walls.
⸻
•His Office Door Opens
The silence broke with a soft click.
Julian's office door cracked open, just a sliver of light spilling out. Sienna looked up sharply.
He stepped out slowly.
No jacket. Tie loosened. Sleeves rolled. Hair rumpled, like he'd raked his hands through it a hundred times trying to outthink something he couldn't name.
He stopped when their eyes met.
She didn't move. Didn't breathe.
"You're still here," he said quietly, his voice rough around the edges.
"So are you."
Julian nodded once, then looked away — like being near her was both a relief and a punishment.
They stood in silence.
The hum of the city beyond the windows. The low murmur of her computer's fan. The only sounds in the room.
Then he crossed the floor, slowly, deliberately. Not like a CEO. Not like her boss.
Like a man who'd run out of excuses.
He stopped in front of her desk.
"I've been trying," he said.
"Trying what?"
"Trying not to want you." He said it simply, like it was a fact. "It's not working."
Sienna stood slowly, every nerve on fire. "I know."
He searched her face, like he needed permission to breathe.
"I thought I could control it. Thought I could put that night in a box and bury it under work and structure and rules."
"And Lana," she said, unable to keep the sharp edge from her voice.
Julian's eyes darkened. "That wasn't what you think. She wanted closure. I gave it to her. Politely."
"She touched your arm."
"She touches everyone's arm."
"She laughed like she still had you."
Julian exhaled hard. "She doesn't. She never did."
He stepped closer.
"You're the one in my head. The one in my space. The one I can't stop thinking about."
Sienna's heart slammed against her ribs. "Then stop pretending you can."
⸻
• What They Can't Take Back
Julian closed the final step between them. Close enough that she could feel the heat from his body. Close enough that her breath caught and refused to leave her throat.
"I'm your assistant," she whispered.
He nodded. "And I'm your boss."
"This is a bad idea."
"The worst."
Neither of them moved.
His hand reached up — paused — hovered near her cheek.
"Tell me to stop," he said hoarsely.
She didn't.
Instead, she tilted her head, and that was all it took.
The kiss was deep before it even touched her lips. He kissed her like a man who had waited too long, burned too long, suffered too long.
It was desperate.
Messy.
A confession without a single word.
She gasped as his hands slid to her waist, pulling her flush against him. Her arms wound around his shoulders, anchoring herself to the only thing that made sense in the chaos.
Julian's mouth moved to her jaw, then her neck, reverent and reckless.
"We're breaking every rule," he murmured.
"Then break them," she breathed. "All of them."
⸻
• TOO FAR TO GO BACK
They stumbled into the glass meeting room behind them, locked in each other's gravity.
Julian pinned her gently to the wall, his forehead resting against hers.
"Tell me you feel it too," he said.
"I'm drowning in it."
He kissed her again — slower this time, deeper, like he wanted to memorize the shape of her mouth. Her hands were on his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt like if she let go, she'd fall straight through the floor.
And maybe she would.
Because this wasn't safe. It wasn't smart.
But God, it was real.
He looked at her like she was the only thing that made sense in a world full of things he couldn't control.
Then reality crept in — fast and cold.
They both stilled.
Breathing hard.
Still wrapped around each other.
Julian stepped back, eyes conflicted. "This can't happen again."
Sienna blinked. "Then why did you come out here?"
"Because I'm tired of pretending I don't care."
"And now?"
"Now I have to figure out how to care without destroying us both."
He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
"But I can't promise I'll do it right."
She grabbed his hand and held it to her cheek. "I don't need you to do it right. I just need you to stop hiding."
He kissed her forehead — soft, lingering.
Then he pulled away. Not coldly. Not abruptly.
Like it hurt to let go.
"Go home, Sienna," he said gently.
She nodded, but didn't speak. She turned, picked up her bag, and walked slowly to the elevator.
Julian watched until the doors closed behind her.
Then he ran a hand over his face and whispered, "What the hell are we doing…"
But the truth was already written on his lips.
They were breaking the rules.
And neither of them had the willpower to stop.