POV: Elena
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The next morning, I woke up with a pounding headache—and a memory that hit harder than any hangover.
I kissed my boss.
Correction: My boss kissed me. And I kissed him back.
And I liked it. Way, way too much.
I groaned into my pillow. Maybe it had all been a dream, just one of those vivid fantasies my subconscious cooked up because of how infuriatingly beautiful he was.
But then I reached for my phone.
One message.
From Zayden Wolfe.
> Come to the rooftop after work. Don't make me come find you.
I stared at the text for a long time before tucking the phone under my pillow like it might burn me.
---
The office felt different that day.
People were whispering.
Sneaking glances my way when they thought I wasn't looking.
Layla from PR gave me the kind of smirk that said I know something you don't want me to know.
Did someone… see?
I avoided Zayden's floor like it was lava. But of course, during a briefing, our eyes met across the conference table—and the world seemed to fall away.
His gaze was unreadable.
But his fingers curled into fists on the table like he was holding himself back from something.
When the meeting ended, I bolted. And yet, as the hours ticked by, one thought wouldn't leave me.
What am I even doing?
Was I just a phase for him? A distraction?
And why did he lie about the company name still lingering in my head like an unsolved puzzle?
---
By 7 PM, the office was mostly empty.
But I found myself on the elevator, heart racing, hands shaking, headed straight for the rooftop.
He was already there—back facing me, jacket off, sleeves rolled, city lights painting his silhouette in gold.
"You came," he said without turning.
"I didn't know if I should."
He finally faced me—and his eyes locked on mine like he was drinking me in.
"I haven't stopped thinking about last night."
My breath hitched.
He stepped closer. "You make me lose control, Elena."
"Is that a bad thing?"
He didn't answer with words.
He closed the distance, grabbed my face gently—and kissed me.
And this time, it wasn't rushed or desperate.
It was slow.
Deep.
Like he needed to memorize the shape of my mouth, the way I sighed when he bit my lower lip, the sound I made when his hands tangled in my hair.
We didn't stop.
We didn't want to stop.
Somewhere between the kisses and the silence, I found myself sitting on the ledge, legs on either side of his waist, lips pressed to his throat.
His hand cupped my jaw, tilting me up.
"You're dangerous," he whispered.
"And you're a liar," I whispered back. "You said you weren't the real boss."
He stilled.
But then he just smiled—slow, dark, full of something wicked and beautiful.
"I'm a man who didn't want you to look at me like the rest of them do. I wanted to be just Zayden to you."
"You're not," I breathed. "You never were."
He kissed me again, harder this time. Like that truth scared him.
And we stayed up there for hours.
Talking.
Kissing.
Breathing.
Losing track of time under the stars.
When I finally leaned my head on his shoulder, heart racing, lips swollen, I whispered:
"Whatever this is… I don't want it to stop."
He looked down at me, fingers tracing my back.
"It won't."
But even as he said it…
I could feel it.
Something was still being held back.
And when it finally comes out, I knew it would change everything.