The air was thick between us. That kind than any words possibly could. My lips still burned from his. My breath trembled against the stillness. I didn't move. I couldn't. I didn't want to.
Lucien Vale didn't move either.
He just stood there, close enough that I could still taste the mint from his mouth, see the slight raise of his chest when he exhaled, the faint twitch in his jaw like he was restraining something.
Or maybe everything.
"Say something," I whispered, though I wasn't sure I wanted to hear what he'd say.
Lucien blinked slowly, then dragged his eyes down my face, stopping at my mouth. God. That look could ruin me. "You don't know what you've just done, Alina.
There was no anger in his voice.
Just warning.
But I didn't care.
I straightened, lifted my chin. "I didn't kiss you because I'm confused."
"I didn't say you were."
His voice was too calm. Too leveled. That scared me more than if he'd snapped.
Lucien stepped closer again. I felt the heat of his body press against mine, not touching, but threatening to. My breath hitched.
"I didn't stop you," he said slowly, "but that doesn't mean I should've let you."
My heart drummed harder. "Then why did you?"
His eyes darkened. "Because I'm selfish."
He reached up and brushed a knuckle against my cheek. I felt it all the way down to my spine. "Because I wanted to know what you tasted like when you finally stopped pretending you didn't want me."
Every word was a shot to my sanity.
And yet—
"You think I haven't noticed the way you watch me in the meetings?" His voice dropped lower. "You think I don't see the flush on your cheeks when I call on you for something simple? Or how you always look at your phone too quickly when you think I might text you?"
I said nothing.
I didn't have to. My silence was the confession.
"And when you walked into my club that night," he murmured, stepping impossibly closer, "I knew. I knew, Alina."
He tilted his head, voice thick. "You're not just curious. You're drawn. Like I dared you to find out who I really am. And now that you have—"
"I'm not scared," I breathed, interrupting him.
He looked at me for a long moment. His mouth curved — slowly, dangerously. "You should be."
And just like that, his hand was at my waist, yanking me forward until we were flush together. His mouth was inches from mine, but he didn't kiss me.
He waited.
Testing me.
Tempting me.
"You're going to ruin me," I said, barely audible.
Lucien smiled. "No, darling." His lips brushed mine, feather-light. "You're going to let me."
His mouth crashed onto mine.
This kiss was nothing like the first. There was no hesitation. No teasing. It was rough and desperate, like we were making up for all the time we hadn't had, all the tension that had built up over stolen glances and near-touches.
His hands moved from my waist to my hips, pulling me tight against him. I gasped into his mouth and felt the heat of his smirk against my lips. He liked that. He liked the way I unraveled under his touch.
And God, I was unraveling.
The conference table pressed into my back as he lifted me onto it with frightening ease. My legs parted instinctively, wrapping around his waist. The heat between us was unbearable. We were both breathing like we'd run miles.
And when his lips left mine, trailing kisses down my jaw, to my neck, I nearly whimpered.
"You're playing with fire, Alina."
"I like fire."
Lucien paused.
His eyes flicked up to mine, searching my face for any trace of uncertainty.
There was none.
"Then let me show you what burning feels like."
He leaned in again, and his mouth claimed mine all over again, but just as quickly—
There was a buzz.
His phone.
He ignored it.
Then came the knock.
Hard. Sharp. Interrupting.
"Sir?" a voice called through the door. It was that stiff tone that only came from someone too scared to speak casually to him. "Emergency call from Paris. You told them to get through no matter what."
Lucien stilled.
His hand stayed on my waist, fingers twitching like he was debating whether to leave them there or strangle the person behind the door.
"Five minutes," he called back tightly.
A pause.
Then retreating footsteps.
He looked at me, breath still ragged. "I have to take that."
I nodded.
But my mind was chaos.
We weren't supposed to be here.
This wasn't how normal intern-boss dynamics went. This wasn't coffee-fetching and uncomfortable power plays. This was a whole other level of wrong.
But it felt right.
His hand slid off my waist. I immediately felt cold. Abandoned.
He must've noticed. "Come to my office. After."
I blinked. "Why?"
"Because," he said, straightening his jacket, already returning to that pristine, unreadable CEO mask. "We're not done."
And then he was gone.
Just like that.
Leaving me sitting on the conference table, flushed and stunned and entirely unsure what the hell I'd just let myself fall into.
—
I didn't go back to my desk. I went straight to the bathroom, locked myself into a stall, and stared at myself in the mirror like a girl who didn't recognize her own reflection.
My lips were swollen.
My blouse was wrinkled at the hem.
I ran my fingers through my hair and tried to breathe normally. Failed.
Was I seriously going to his office?
Like nothing happened?
Like I wasn't spiraling?
Yes.
Yes, I was.
And when I got there, I knocked once.
The door opened almost immediately. He looked tired. Stressed. But he looked at me like I was relief.
"Come in."
I did.
He shut the door, locked it, then leaned back against it.
Silence.
For a long time.
I felt small. Nervous. Maybe even a little stupid.
He stared at me like I was something he wanted to destroy and worship at the same time.
"I didn't call you in here to apologize," he said finally.
"I figured."
"I don't regret kissing you. I'll never regret it. But you need to know what you're walking into."
I swallowed.
And nodded.
Lucien's expression changed. He crossed the room in three long strides, towering over me. "I don't love. I don't date. I don't do the normal stuff. I ruin. I ruin everything I touch."
He cupped my face.
"And now that I've touched you, I don't think I can stop."
His honesty stole my breath.
I should have turned and walked away.
I should have.
But I didn't.
Instead, I reached up and held his wrist. "Then don't."
That was it.
That was my choice.
Lucien stared at me like I'd just broken the rules of the universe. Then, slowly, the corner of his mouth lifted.
"Don't say I didn't warn you."
His mouth met mine again.
Slower. Deeper.
This wasn't the desperate crash in the conference room.
This was deliberate. Exploring. And everything in me ached for it.
He backed me up against his desk this time. My legs hit the edge. He lifted me again, set me down on the wood surface, never breaking the kiss.
One hand on my thigh, the other at the back of my neck, he moved like a man who'd been starving and finally allowed a taste.
And I let him.
I let him devour me.
Because in that moment, nothing mattered except the way he made me feel like the most dangerous decision I'd ever made — was the right one.