Not Mr. Lane. Not my boss. No, sitting across him in his charcoal suit, his back straight and shoulders broad, was Aaron, our CEO. My boyfriend. My very secret, very untouchable boyfriend.
And God, I missed him.
His dark brown hair was slicked back the way I liked, his profile sharp and unreadable as he spoke to Lane in low tones. His watch caught the light. His fingers tapped a rhythm against his arm like he was trying not to pace.
I hadn't seen him in days. Not properly. He'd been too busy, too distant. The last time we talked for more than ten minutes was nearly a week ago. And last night… last night he was supposed to see me. He said he'd try. He didn't, so I went home alone.
And then found a bleeding stranger by a dumpster and ruined my life.
My heart did a stupid little flutter anyway.
"Kina," Mr. Lane said, dragging my name like it was a scuff on his shoe. "Are you going to walk in or just stand there gawking?"
I blinked. Heat surged up my neck. My mouth worked around an apology that barely made it out. "S-Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt—"
"You didn't," Aaron said smoothly, standing from his seat. His grey eyes passed over me. Just for a second. Cool. Polite. Professional. Like I was just another face in a sea of interns.
No warmth. No recognition. Not even a flicker of softness.
Right. I swallowed it down. It was fine. We agreed to keep it quiet. He was careful. Always careful. The office wasn't exactly good for us. I knew that. I just… forgot for a second. Like a moron.
Aaron clasped Mr. Lane's hand in a firm shake and that stupid smile. "I'll have my team send over the final list of guests for the anniversary gala by tonight. Let me know if anything changes."
Gala. Right. That big stupid event next week where I'd be filing people's names into spreadsheets and pretending I didn't want to kiss the man giving the opening speech.
Aaron moved toward the door, and my body tried to step aside, but my heart didn't get the memo.
He passed me, so close I could smell his cologne, something warm, familiar, expensive.
I didn't look at him.
But then I felt it.
The faintest brush of his fingers. So subtle I could've imagined it. A ghost of a touch on the back of my hand as he passed by.
Then he was gone.
And I was left standing there like someone had ripped the gravity out of the room.
Mr. Lane snorted. "Jesus. You really are delusional."
I blinked. "Excuse me?"
He didn't look up from his computer. "You think just because he looked in your direction, you've got a shot with someone like him?" He chuckled, the sound dry and mean. "That man doesn't even date his own kind, let alone desperate little nobodies playing pretend in analyst cubicles."
The words hit harder than I expected. Like I hadn't already been holding myself together with duct tape and wishful thinking.
I swallowed hard. "I wasn't— I don't—"
He waved a hand. "Spare me the stammering. Sit down. Let's talk about that file you sent last night."
And just like that, I sat.
Back straight. Face blank. Heart cracked open in a hundred different directions.
Because even though I knew better, even though I knew it was all just a front, something about being almost invisible to the man I loved, and being mocked for a fantasy that wasn't a fantasy at all… it stung.
And I couldn't even cry about it.
The moment I sat down in my little box again, my computer pinged.
Another message.
Aaron:
Are you free? Come up if you're not too busy.
My heart stuttered like a broken engine.
God.
Of course I wasn't free. Lane had just dumped an entire folder of new tasks onto my desk like it was a garbage chute. I hadn't even finished sorting the reports from yesterday, and now I had three meetings to schedule, an analysis request for the gala proposal, and a briefing doc to reformat before noon.
But none of it mattered.
Not when Aaron texted me.
Not when the man I loved, the man who couldn't even look at me minutes ago, was now asking to see me like I was something special.
Me:
Not busy. On my way.
I stood up so fast my chair screeched against the floor.
"Kina," a sharp voice called.
I froze. Turned my head slowly.
Ms. Lacey. Eyebrows raised, mouth pursed like she'd just bitten a lemon. "Where are you going? Again?"
"I—I just…" I looked down at the papers in my hand like they were a valid excuse. "I need to check something. With… the strategy team."
Not a complete lie.
She didn't look convinced.
I bowed slightly, muttered something polite, and walked off before she could call me back.
The thrill shot through me the second I stepped into the elevator. The doors closed and I was alone. Just me, my wildly thudding heart, and the shiny little number 22 glowing on the panel.
The last floor.
Aaron's floor.
As the elevator hummed upward, I glanced at the mirrored wall and fixed my hair. My fingers smoothed down stray strands, straightened the hem of my skirt, adjusted the neckline of my blouse. I even sniffed my breath in my palm like a lunatic.
God, what was I doing?
For a second, just a stupid, fleeting second, I thought about the man I found last night. The one bleeding out in the street. His face, the blood, the weight of his body in my arms.
Was it wrong if I didn't mention him?
Was that… cheating?
I didn't touch him. Didn't do anything. I just helped. But guilt itched under my skin anyway.
The elevator dinged.
Too late.
I stepped out and immediately caught the secretary's eye.
She stared at me like she always did. Like she knew. Like she suspected something.
I gave a tiny bow.
Kept walking.
Aaron's office was tucked in the far corner, all sleek glass and cold professionalism. I hesitated outside the door. Glanced around like a thief. Then turned the handle and stepped in.
And froze.
He was there.
In his crisp white shirt, fitted enough just enough to show his broad chest. Tie loose. Glasses perched low on his nose. His brow furrowed as he looked down at something on his tablet. His whole body was relaxed but focused, like the chaos of the world couldn't touch him.
My stomach flipped. Hard.
I cleared my throat softly. "Um. Can I come in?"
His head lifted.
And the moment his eyes met mine, something shifted.
Slowly, Aaron stood. His lips curved into a small, soft smile that made something inside me ache. That was my smile. The one no one else got to see.
"You're here," he said, voice quiet.
"Yeah," I breathed. "You… texted."
"Come here."
I moved. A little too fast. A little too eager.
He met me halfway.
And then his arms were around me, pulling me in, firm and warm and all-consuming. His hand slid to the back of my head. His nose brushed my hair. He breathed me in like he'd been starving.
I melted.
God. I missed this. I missed him.
My fingers curled around his shirt. "You've been busy."
"I know. I hated it."
"I missed you."
He pulled back just enough to look at me, one hand still cupping my cheek. "I missed you more."
I looked away, cheeks flushing. "You didn't even look at me downstairs."
"Because I wanted to do this the moment I saw you."
And then he leaned in.