The Manhattan skyline gleamed like a promise as Lilly stared out the window of the black car, one hand resting on her designer briefcase. She hated the cold, but New York had always felt electric in the fall fuast, fashionable, unapologetic. Just like her.
She adjusted her oversized sunglasses and glanced to her right.
Armani sat beside her, scrolling through notes on her iPad, her jaw sharp and unreadable.
They hadn't said much since the airport.
Their elbows brushed once in the car and Lilly swore she felt it all the way down to her thighs.
"This client is important," Lilly finally said, breaking the silence. "They're considering us for a co-branded winter line across three continents."
"I reviewed the pitch deck last night," Armani replied without looking up. "You'll have my full support."
"Good." Lilly paused. "This could take our brand global."
Armani finally looked at her. "So we play it clean. No tension. No distractions."
Lilly gave a tight nod. "Exactly."
But even as she said it, her voice wavered just a touch.
They arrived at The Eden, a five-star boutique hotel nestled in the heart of SoHo. The lobby smelled like leather and jasmine, the lighting warm, intimate.
Lilly checked in first while Armani stood just behind her.
Then the concierge's voice broke the illusion of control.
"There seems to be a mistake," the man said apologetically. "Due to overbooking, the second room you requested wasn't confirmed. Unfortunately, we have only one suite available tonight."
Lilly's jaw tightened. "There's a reservation for two rooms. Check again."
He tapped a few keys. "I'm so sorry, Ms. Rivera. The suite is largetwo separate sleeping areas. And we'll have the second room available by tomorrow evening."
Lilly turned to Armani.
"Are you okay with that?" she asked, lips tight.
Armani shrugged casually, though there was a glint in her eye. "I'll survive."
Thirty minutes later…
The suite was breathtakingfloor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the city, marble floors, a long velvet couch, and two bedrooms separated by a sliding glass wall.
Still… it was intimate. Too intimate.
Lilly poured herself a glass of wine from the welcome tray, trying to shake the heat crawling under her skin.
Armani walked out of her room, having changed into soft black joggers and a tank top, her hair pulled back.
Casual. Effortless. Dangerous.
"I'm ordering room service," Armani said, flipping through the menu. "Want anything?"
Lilly barely glanced up from her laptop. "No."
"Still punishing yourself, huh?"
Lilly blinked, her eyes cutting to her. "Excuse me?"
"For wanting something that doesn't fit inside the rules."
Lilly closed her laptop with a sharp snap. "I don't mix business with pleasure."
"Yet here we are. Sharing a suite in SoHo."
Armani walked closer, her voice quieting. "You don't need to protect yourself from me, Lilly. I'm not here to take anything from you."
Lilly stood slowly, her body betraying her with every thud of her heart.
"You think this is about control?" she asked.
"I think," Armani said gently, "this is about fear."
Lilly's breath hitched.
And thenlike gravity finally snapped—she stepped forward.
They didn't kiss. Not yet.
But they stood chest-to-chest, close enough to feel each other's breath, eyes locked like magnets with no escape.
"I could ruin both of us," Lilly whispered.
"Then ruin me," Armani said, her voice husky. "But don't lie to yourself."
A beat passed.
Then Lilly stepped back—just far enough to breathe.
"You're dangerous."
Armani smiled. "So are you."
The next morning…
They kept it professional.
Mostly.
The meeting with the New York investors was seamless. Armani presented with poise and fire, her pitch crisp, her style polished. Lilly watched her with a pride she didn't want to admit.
They were a force.
Afterward, the client shook both their hands and said the words Lilly had hoped for:
"Let's go global."
The elevator ride back to the suite was quiet, but the tension between them had morphed into something else with admiration. Respect. Want, still simmering.
"Congratulations," Lilly said as the elevator dinged.
"You too," Armani replied, holding the door for her. "We made a hell of a team today."
Lilly turned to her once inside the suite, her jacket still on, her face unreadable. "Why do you make this so hard?"
"I don't mean to."
"You make me question everything I've built."
Armani walked up to her, their faces inches apart again.
"Maybe what you've built needs someone who challenges it."
Lilly's chest rose and fell.
Then, slowly, she leaned in.
This time, there was no pause. No second-guessing.
Their lips met.
It wasn't rushed it was slow, deep, careful. Like they were tasting something forbidden and sacred at the same time.
When they finally pulled apart, Lilly's voice was breathless.
"This doesn't leave this suite."
"Agreed."
"And we keep it under control."
Armani traced her jaw gently. "Then let's break the rules… carefully."Absolutely."
After the Pitch
The lights of Manhattan twinkled beyond the tall windows as Lilly stood in front of the glass, wine in hand, blazer tossed across the couch. Her heels had long been kicked off, and her silk blouse hung loosely, the top buttons undone, exposing the graceful lines of her collarbone.
Behind her, Armani stepped out of her bedroom in a fitted robe, hair still damp from the shower, skin glowing with warmth and softness Lilly hadn't allowed herself to look at all day.
But now?
Now it was just the two of them. No boardroom. No assistants. No rules.
Armani's voice was soft. "We should celebrate."
Lilly didn't turn. "This already feels dangerous enough."
"Then let's be dangerous tonight," Armani said, her tone low, sultry. "Just tonight."
Lilly finally faced her.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
It wasn't just physical. It wasn't even about desire anymore. It was that pull—magnetic, inevitable, like the moment just before the tide drags you under.
Armani crossed the room with slow, sure steps. "You don't have to run, Lilly."
"I'm not running," Lilly whispered. "I'm standing in front of the one person who could undo me."
Armani reached out, her fingers brushing Lilly's cheek. "Then let me."
She leaned in, slow and deliberate, her lips grazing Lilly's like a question. And this time, Lilly answered.
Their kiss was deeper now no longer filled with tension and hesitation, but something hotter, hungrier. Lilly's hand tangled in Armani's hair, pulling her closer, while Armani gripped her waist and pressed her back gently against the glass.
Outside, the city lights kept pulsing.
Inside, their bodies pressed together, heat melting into heat.
Lilly gasped softly as Armani's lips moved down her neck, her hand sliding under the hem of Lilly's blouse, fingers finding skin. Every touch was electric, familiar but new—like they'd been here before in a dream.
Lilly pulled Armani's robe open, revealing warm skin and curves she remembered from that first night in San Francisco, but this time… it was slower. Intimate. They weren't rushing toward climax—they were savoring every breath, every gasp, every shiver.
They made their way toward the bed—stopping only to kiss, to strip away another layer, until there was nothing left between them but skin and truth.
Lilly lay back against the soft white sheets, her hair splayed across the pillow, Armani above her like a promise.
"You're beautiful," Armani whispered, kissing the corner of her lips, her shoulder, her hip.
"You talk too much," Lilly murmured, pulling her down again.
Their bodies moved together in rhythm—slow, sensual, every touch a statement. Armani knew exactly how to unravel her, and Lilly didn't fight it. She let go. Completely.
They weren't boss and employee now. Not lovers hiding a secret. Not two women walking the tightrope of temptation.
They were just… two souls, tangled.
And by the time the sun began to rise and the city stirred below them, Lilly lay curled against Armani, fingers laced together.
No words.
Just silence.
And the steady beat of something she wasn't ready to name.
Not yet.