A sharp rap on the door shattered Victor's decidedly unprofessional daydream. The wicked grin that had been playing on his lips vanished, replaced in an instant by a mask of neutral authority.
"Come in."
The door opened a fraction to reveal his assistant, Sonya, wearing a polite, inquiring smile. "Sir, it's well past lunch. Shall I have something ordered for you?"
"Oh…" Victor glanced at his watch as if surprised. "No, that won't be necessary. I think I'll head out. You go ahead and take your break, Sonya. Enjoy your lunch."
Sonya gave a slight nod. "You as well, sir," she said, pulling the door closed.
The moment he was alone again, Victor snatched up his phone, his thumb swiping down to refresh his messages. Nothing. His screen remained stubbornly blank. No new notifications. No texts.
With a quiet sigh, he set the phone down and left his office. He'd only taken a few steps down the hallway when a movement in the finance division's glass-walled office caught his eye, bringing him to an abrupt halt.
The bullpen was nearly empty, save for one person. Sean was hunched over his computer, completely absorbed in his screen, oblivious to the fact that he was being watched. A predator, silent and still, observing his prey.
Victor moved on silent feet, stopping directly behind Sean's chair. The young man didn't flinch, too deep in his work. Victor's mind, however, was elsewhere, concocting a dozen foolish, romantic ways to get his attention.
Should I say something? Just lean down and… no. Absolutely not. That's a one-way ticket to an HR complaint—
"Urghh…!"
Victor's internal debate was cut short as Sean suddenly shoved his chair back—directly into Victor's shins. The momentum sent the younger man tipping backward with a startled yelp.
"Sir? Victor—! Oh god, sir, I'm so sorry!"
Victor, who had squeezed his eyes shut at the impact, forced them open. A hand was clutching his arm, steadying him.
All the pain from the collision was instantly forgotten. Suppressing a grin with every ounce of his willpower, he decided to lean into it—literally.
He let his weight sag slightly against Sean's grip, manufacturing a pained wince. "Ah, Sean," he groaned, his voice a masterclass in feigned agony. "That… really hurts."
The effect was immediate. Sean's face drained of all color, his expression a perfect picture of horrified, guilty concern. It was utterly delicious.
***
Sean fell silent. Or, more accurately, he was stunned into silence, mentally kicking himself for his own monumental stupidity. He could only watch as the man across the table took a long, casual gulp of his drink.
"You lied to me."
Victor set his glass down with a soft clink, a frown creasing his brow. "Lied? What are you on about?"
Sean rolled his eyes, the gesture dripping with irritation at his boss's pathetic act. "Back at the office. You were faking it. You weren't really that hurt."
Victor, who had just taken a bite of his food, sputtered. "Don't be ridiculous! My back is killing me. I'll probably have a bruise. Here, I'll show you—" he said, his fingers moving to the buttons of his dress shirt.
"No!" Sean's hand shot up in immediate protest. "That won't be necessary. I… I believe you." The words tasted like ash in his mouth.
He turned his face away, avoiding Victor's triumphant gaze as he bit his lip in pure frustration. And if his ears were burning a bright, traitorous red, it wasn't from embarrassment or some misplaced sense of awe.
It was sheer, unadulterated annoyance.
How could he have been so naive?
To actually fall for the whole 'I'm in too much pain to drive myself to my car' routine and end up chaperoning his boss to a restaurant instead of the parking garage?
He'd been played. Perfectly.
The warning signs were all there. The man had insisted on driving himself, a complete one-eighty from his earlier performance of barely being able to stand. Sean had been an idiot to take his boss's theatrics at face value, and now he was paying for that gullibility with a steadily rising tide of irritation.
"What's the matter, Sean? Are you really that allergic to me?"
Victor was still asking. Sean answered him silently, in the privacy of his own mind.
He picked up his fork, stabbing a piece of meat with a little more force than necessary, and pointedly ignored the rhetorical question.
Wasn't it obvious?
He felt blatantly manipulated. And he couldn't even properly blame the guy. It wasn't like he'd known shoving his chair back would send his boss tumbling.
It was just past noon, and Sean was already caught in a cascade of misfortunes, so lost in his own frustrated thoughts that he didn't realize he'd become the latest one.
He was so deep inside his own head that he didn't hear a thing—no movement, no warning. He would have toppled right out of his chair if Victor's hand hadn't shot out to steady him.
But who wouldn't jump out of their skin when the person who was just across the table suddenly materializes beside you, leaning in so close you can feel his breath?!
That's it!
Sean couldn't handle this. He had to get out. Now.
He jerked back, starting to push his own chair away.
"Whoa—!"
Sean just blinked, stunned, staring at Victor's face, which was now mere inches from his own. His brain was still catching up, lagging several seconds behind reality.
His body locked up, completely frozen. Hypnotized by the intense gaze and the proximity, he didn't pull away as Victor slowly closed the remaining distance. His eyes, wide and unblinking, remained helplessly fixed on the man's lips.
Victor's hand settled against his waist, a firm, warm weight through the fabric of his shirt. "Does it still hurt?"
The man's gaze was a physical thing, searing and intense, stripping Sean bare. It left him utterly powerless—trapped, unable to resist, unable to do anything but drown in those deep, fathomless brown eyes.
This is insane, Sean's mind screamed, a distant, frantic echo in the sudden silence.
Victor leaned in, closing the last sliver of space between them until the tips of their noses brushed. His voice was a low, intimate murmur. "Sean? I asked you a question. Does it still hurt?"
Sean couldn't comprehend it, the paralysis that held him captive, the way every muscle had turned to stone while he sat perched on the older man's lap. And then, as Victor's warm, insistent lips finally met his own, Sean's mind didn't just go blank.
It shattered.
The kiss was a key, twisting in a lock he never knew existed. It didn't summon a feeling, but a memory. The lost night came crashing back, not as a thought, but as a sensation, hurling him into a past moment he never knew he'd lived.