Naomi awoke to the soft hum of the city filtering through floor-to-ceiling windows. The bed was warm beside her—empty, but recently so. The sheets held his scent: spice, cedar, rain.
She sat up, the cotton sheet slipping off her shoulder. Her body ached in places that felt good. Used. Remembered.
She smiled.
Then the world returned.
Her job. Her internship. The non-fraternization clause she had skimmed but signed. Luca's position. Her age. His reputation. The way they had erased all lines in one night of reckless need.
She pulled on her blouse and padded barefoot into the kitchen.
Luca was there. Coffee in hand. Shirt on, but untucked. Hair mussed. He looked like sin the morning after. He looked at her like he remembered every detail of what they'd done.
"Hey," he said, voice hoarse.
"Hey."
He passed her a mug. She took it in both hands, sipping to delay what they both knew had to be said.
"Last night," she began.
"Was real," he finished. "But also... complicated."
She nodded. "We could get fired."
"I would get fired," he corrected. "You'd just get quietly erased."
Silence settled between them like fog.
"I'm not sorry," she whispered.
He looked at her, something fractured behind his eyes. "Neither am I."
That scared her more than regret would have.
"I should go," she said again. This time, she meant it.
He didn't stop her. Just walked her to the elevator, hands shoved in his pockets like he wanted to touch her but didn't trust himself to let go after.
The elevator opened. She stepped in.
He caught her wrist.
"Naomi…"
She turned, breath catching.
"I don't regret it. But if this continues—" He exhaled like he hadn't breathed all morning. "It can't be casual. I need to know it means something."
Her heart thumped once. Loud and certain.
"It does," she said. "It already does."
The doors slid closed.
She didn't cry. Not yet. But her throat ached with things she couldn't name.
Down on the street, the morning crowd swarmed around her, oblivious. Naomi walked forward. Into the day. Into the consequences. Into the unknown.
Whatever they had begun, it wasn't over.
And it wasn't safe.
But it was theirs.