"Too late."
Leo stared at the message, a triumphant, reckless feeling burning in his chest. Elara had sent "Don't," and he had replied with the truth. He tossed his phone onto the worn leather of his sofa. The adrenaline was still pumping.
He was in his small, vibrant apartment. It was messy, cheap, and a thousand miles away from Elara's polished, controlled world. He liked the difference. Elara was a goal, not just a job. She was the only thing that mattered.
Maya, his best friend, looked up from her laptop.
"Who's 'Too late?' Did you finally tell Chloe to stop calling you, or did you get a promotion?"
"I just won the most important account of the year," Leo said, grabbing a clean shirt.
Maya frowned, setting down her pen. "You look like you just started a war. And don't talk about Chloe. She texted me again. She misses you. You know how she gets when she misses you, Leo."
Leo froze. Chloe. The toxic on-again, off-again relationship of his twenties. The constant, emotional chaos he had sworn off.
"I'm not calling her," Leo said, pulling the shirt over his head. "We are done. I told you, I'm focused on work."
"No, you're focused on the Director. You look at her like she's the last piece of art on Earth," Maya warned, her voice serious. "She's your boss, she's almost forty, and she's got a reputation. You're putting your whole career on the line for a chase."
"It's not a chase. It's a challenge," Leo countered, picking up his keys. "She's the only one who sees me as an equal. The only one who doesn't treat me like a kid."
"She treats you like an assistant until five P.M.," Maya pointed out. "Don't go, Leo. Wait until tomorrow. Think about your parents. They want you to succeed, not get fired for workplace drama."
"I'll be fine. I'm just going for a walk."
Leo lied easily. He was going straight to the jazz bar. He knew Elara needed a drink and a dark place to process the chaos he'd just unleashed. He had to keep pushing.
He waited ten minutes. She walked in exactly as he expected: tailored, tense, and completely alone. She looked like a general in a war she hadn't started.
Leo walked over to the bar, taking the stool next to her.
"Director."
Elara didn't flinch this time, but her grip tightened on her martini glass.
"This is harassment, Leo. Get out."
"I just wanted to make sure you weren't still planning on inventory duty," he countered, smiling. "You look like you're ready to fire me."
"I am. Give me a reason."
"I'll buy you another martini if you promise to talk about anything but deadlines," he challenged.
She turned to him, her eyes flashing. "I have nothing else to talk about. My life is predictable. My schedule is full."
"I don't believe that. That woman you're pretending to be the one who's only interested in concrete costs she's bored," Leo said, leaning in.
"Tell me about the woman underneath the blazer. What did she give up to become the Director?"
The question was too much. Her mask slipped for a second. "That is none of your business. Our relationship is 9 to 5. You forget that, you forget what's best for both of us."
"What if what's best for me is what happens after 5?" Leo asked softly, watching her face.
Elara lifted the martini glass and took a large swallow. She looked desperate, and the look thrilled him.
"You are risking everything you built on a whim," she whispered.
"I'm risking boredom," he repeated. "I am done with easy. I am done with safe."
Elara slammed the glass down, the ice clinking loudly. "This was a mistake. I'm leaving."
She stormed toward the door. Leo jumped off his stool and ran after her, catching her outside under a broken streetlamp.
He grabbed her arm and pulled her into the dark, hidden alcove of the building. The city noise faded away.
"Stop running!" he demanded, holding her fast.
"Let go of me, Leo! You are going to ruin us!" she hissed, struggling.
"Good!" he yelled back, his voice thick with passion. "Because I don't want 'us' to exist in the office! I want this to exist!"
He crushed his mouth to hers. The kiss was not gentle. It was a fierce, reckless destruction of every boundary they had left. Elara didn't fight. She melted against him, her hands going up to grip his shoulders. It was immediate, raw, and desperate.
They broke apart, breathing hard. Her eyes were wide, glittering with fear and desire.
"You realize what you just did," she managed, her voice shaking badly.
"Yes," he whispered, refusing to let go of her coat. "I just destroyed the Director and found Elara."
He didn't give her a chance to retreat. He leaned his forehead against hers. "Tell me you regret it. Tell me you want me to leave, and I will."
She closed her eyes, the silence stretching between them. The streetlamp flickered overhead.
Finally, Elara opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. She brought her hands up to cup his face.
"I regret everything," she confessed, her voice a rough gasp. "But I need you to take me home right now, or I'm going to scream."