The elevator doors opened with a soft chime.
Sasha stepped out, her blouse stiff at the collar, her skirt ironed perfectly - but nothing about her felt put together. Her hands were trembling. Her cheeks still burned. Her thighs... remembered.
Every echo of her heels across the polished floor whispered: he saw you.
She had been moaning his name. She had touched herself like a shameless little-
"Sasha!"
The voice hit her before she could brace.
"Oh, God..." she muttered under her breath.
Stella was already at her desk, coffee in one hand, glossy pink lips twisted into a smirk. Her best friend. Her worst tormentor.
"You're early," Sasha said, trying to sound normal.
Stella narrowed her eyes. "You're the one tiptoeing in like a sinner fresh from the altar. Spill."
"There's nothing to spill."
"Don't lie to me, Hart. I felt it last night. Something happened at that penthouse."
Sasha dropped her bag on her desk, pretending to sort through paperwork.
"You slept in the same space as Xavier freaking Blackwood," Stella whispered. "You seriously expect me to believe you two just reviewed files and called it a night?"
"That's exactly what happened," Sasha said, voice tight.
Stella raised a brow. "Uh-huh."
A pause. A smirk.
"...Then why are your ears red?"
Sasha froze.
"They're not-"
"They are," Stella cut in, sipping her coffee with victory. "Red like a girl who screamed her boss's name so loud she forgot her own."
Sasha choked. "Jesus, Stella!"
"So you did scream his name!"
Sasha slapped a hand over her face and groaned. "You're impossible."
Stella leaned closer, whispering now. "Tell me everything. Right now. Or I swear I'll follow you into the restroom and pry it out myself."
Sasha looked around. The office was buzzing quietly. Xavier's door was still closed.
Still...
She pulled Stella closer by the wrist. "You can't tell anyone. I mean it."
"Cross my cleavage and hope to die."
Sasha hesitated. Then, in a whisper barely above breath, she said:
"He caught me."
"Caught you what?"
Sasha couldn't even look at her. "Touching myself."
Stella's jaw dropped so fast her gum almost fell out. "Shut the front door."
"I thought the door was locked. I-I didn't know he'd follow me to the room. I was just... I was remembering things, and-"
"Wait wait wait. What things were you remembering?"
Sasha buried her face in her hands. "The way he looked at me. The desk. The way he touched me when he kissed me."
Stella's eyes glittered. "Oh. Ohhh. Girl."
"No," Sasha snapped softly. "Don't do that face. I already feel disgusting."
"Disgusting? Are you insane? You got caught moaning your boss's name while playing with yourself - that's hot. That's... filthy, and hot."
Sasha flushed all over again. "I wanted to die. He just stood there. Watching me. Saying nothing."
"What happened next?"
"He told me it never happened. That I should get dressed and leave in the morning."
"That's it?"
"He also said..." Sasha swallowed. "That next time I screamed his name, I'd better be ready for the consequences."
Stella stared. "I think I just got pregnant from that sentence alone."
"Stella!"
"I mean, holy God, that man is scary-hot. But also, girl... he wants you."
Sasha sighed, leaning back in her chair. "It doesn't matter. He's my boss. I need this job. For Mom."
"And yet you're still walking funny," Stella teased.
"I am not!"
"You so are."
Sasha rolled her eyes, biting back a smile. But deep down... she was trembling all over again.
And just as her laugh slipped out - a shadow fell over her desk.
Both women froze.
Xavier.
Sasha looked up, heart stopping.
His gaze was unreadable, locked on her. Then a flick to Stella. Then back to Sasha.
"Miss Hart. My office. Now."
Sasha stood on shaky legs, every part of her burning.
As she walked past him, she swore she could feel the heat of his stare tracing the shape of her body.
And for a second... she wondered if he could still hear the echo of his name in her moan.
The office air felt like glass - clear, brittle, and ready to shatter with the wrong word.
Sasha sat across from him, her hands clasped in her lap, her spine too straight. Xavier hadn't spoken since she walked in. He hadn't looked at her either - not really. Just once, briefly, when he'd motioned for her to sit.
Now he was signing a document. Pen gliding like it had more grace than either of them.
The silence stretched.
Her throat tightened.
Her palms were damp.
The memory from last night-
her towel,
his voice,
his eyes-
It was a wildfire in her mind. She hadn't slept. She hadn't breathed. And judging by the tightness in Xavier's jaw, neither had he.
He turned a page.
She flinched at the sound.
He noticed.
But said nothing.
Sasha swallowed. "Sir, you... asked to see me?"
His pen stopped.
A beat passed.
Then another.
"Yes," he said. "I did."
He didn't elaborate.
She didn't ask.
The clock ticked in the background. Loud. Mocking.
Finally, he spoke again.
"Earlier, I overheard you speaking with Miss Doyle."
Sasha's stomach dropped.
"She seemed... invested in your night."
Sasha's heart pounded. "It was just-nothing."
"Nothing." He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. "She seemed to think otherwise."
"We were just talking, sir."
"About?"
Her breath hitched. "Work."
He stared at her for a moment. His silence was sharp - like he could hear her lying even in the pauses.
"Miss Hart," he said quietly, "I won't ask again."
She looked down. "It was nothing inappropriate. Just... personal matters."
His jaw flexed, once.
"I see."
That was it.
He didn't press. Didn't mention what they were both trying desperately not to say.
Last night.
The towel.
The moan.
His name on her lips.
The silence returned. Heavy. Too heavy.
Xavier looked like he wanted to speak-
and stopped himself.
So did she.
"Is that all, sir?" she asked, finally brave enough to lift her eyes.
He opened his mouth to respond-
But a knock at the door interrupted him.
A woman stepped in with a clipboard tucked under one arm and a large bouquet of white and red roses in the other.
"Apologies, Mr. Blackwood," she said quickly, "but I couldn't find Miss Hart at her desk, so I figured I'd bring these here."
Sasha blinked.
The woman held the flowers out to her.
"These are for you."
Sasha stood slowly, confused. "For me?"
The woman smiled and handed her a small white envelope tucked in the petals. "There's a note."
Then she was gone.
The door shut behind her.
And for a long moment, neither Xavier nor Sasha moved.
He was staring now.
Directly.
Unblinking.
The flowers were beautiful. Delicate. Too romantic for the coldness of the office.
Sasha fumbled with the card.
Her fingers trembled.
The note inside was simple:
> That night was unexpected, but I enjoyed talking to you.
Would you let me take you out for dinner this weekend?
-Martin.
Sasha's stomach flipped.
She closed the card quickly, as if that would erase what she'd read.
Xavier hadn't said a word.
But his stare had darkened.
His tone was quiet.
"Who sent them?"
She hesitated.
"Miss Hart."
Sasha looked up, unsure if his voice was calm or on the edge of something sharper.
"It's... from Martin," she said finally. "The man who gave me a ride home."
Xavier didn't speak.
Didn't blink.
Didn't even breathe.
Sasha looked down.
"I should return to my desk."
She turned for th
e door.
Hand on the knob.
But before she could pull it open-
"Miss Hart."
She stopped.
Waited.
But he didn't say anything else.
She turned the handle.
Stepped out.
And closed the door behind her.
Heart in her throat.
And Xavier Blackwood's silence echoing louder than any words.