Chapter 4

(Leonard's POV)

Chelsea Laurent.

I had looked over her résumé that morning the same way I looked over a dozen others. Scanning through with efficient judgment and absolutely no emotions attached. I had no idea the woman walking through my door would be her, the stranger from the bar, the one who vanished before dawn. The one who looked just about the same age as my own son, Adrian.

When she stepped into my office, something inside of me came alive. Her chestnut-brown hair was pulled back, her blouse modest, but it didn't matter. My memory stripped away the fabric until all I could see was soft, bare skin, the replay of her voice, the way she had trembled when I brushed her shoulder.

I had no idea why I gave her the job. My relationship with her should have just been a one night stand and nothing more. I shouldn't have cared less that she disappeared before she had a real taste of me. After all, I had gotten someone else to replace her at once.

Yet, seeing her face again reminded me at once of what I'd felt when I first laid eyes on her at the bar that night. There was something about the way she'd piqued my interest without being able to place exactly what it was.

I'd noticed she was crying at the bar, so what? She wasn't the only one I'd seen crying at a bar or drinking their sorrows away.

I was horny when I laid eyes on her, so what? It happened all the time. I saw a woman I found attractive and that was all it took for me to imagine myself in bed with them. It shouldn't have mattered.

I'd seen hundreds of faces, met countless women, dismissed them all. But when she looked at me, really looked at me, the air changed.

I told myself it was coincidence. That the universe wasn't cruel enough to put her here, in my company, sitting across from me like temptation wrapped in professionalism.

But fate, it seemed, had a sense of humor.

She sat stiffly, eyes on the edge of my desk, hands knotted in her lap. I could tell she recognized me. How her breath hitched, how color drained from her cheeks.

I could have ended it then. Sent her away and hired someone else. That would have been the sensible thing to do.

Instead, I said, "You're hired."

Even as the words left my mouth, I knew I was accepting a challenge that I wasn't even sure I was quite ready for. I had never done romance at work.

Is that what this was?

The rest of the day unfolded with her performing tasks and duties, working quietly and diligently while she sat just outside my office.

Each time I stepped out through those doors, I caught myself staring her way, watching how she'd let her hair down and how surprisingly more beautiful she looked. Watching how she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, how she bit her lip when she read a document. She was careful not to look at me for long. Smart girl. But her avoidance only deepened my interest.

At noon, she brought in a folder of reports. "You asked for these, sir."

"Mr. Grey," I corrected automatically, though I immediately felt guilty for using such a sharp tone.

"Yes, Mr. Grey." Her voice trembled.

She handed me the folder, our fingers brushing, a simple, accidental contact. But my body reacted like I’d been burned. I withdrew my hand, jaw tightening, and opened the file as if the printed words could drown out what I felt.

I should have gestured her out once she handed me the folders. Instead, I made her stay while I leafed through the pages, taking far longer than necessary.

"Good job," I said at last.

"Thank you."

Her eyes lifted briefly to mine, and I saw a spark of fear. I wasn't sure. But it caught hold of me.

"You seem nervous."

She looked away immediately. "It's my first day."

I stood, walking around the desk, stopping a breath away. She stiffened, but didn't step back. The scent of her perfume, subtle and faint, stirred something low in my chest.

Her gaze lifted. For a heartbeat, neither of us moved. Then she spoke, softly. “Is everything alright, Mr. Grey?”

“Yes.” I answered but my eyes landed on her plump lips. My hands itched to draw her close and plant a kiss on her neck. "Why did you leave that night?"

She swallowed hard. "I was... I had an emergency—"

I interrupted her sentence by actually grabbing her waist and forcing her to hit my chest. She let out a small gasp but she did not resist even as my large hand reached down and squeezed her butt tight. "I don't make a habit of hiring people without reason, Miss Laurent. You interest me. You did the first night I met you. You do now."

"L–like I've said, Mr Grey," She whispered against me. "That night was a mistake. I was drunk."

"A mistake?" I leaned down, nibbling gently on her earlobe. "Explain to me how I forced you into my car and drove you down to an hotel room without a single fight from you." I whispered into her ear.

I wish I knew why she left that night. Was my finger game not good enough? Had I taken too long on the call? Had she turned sober in just a few seconds and realized quickly that she was about to have sex with a stranger?

"M–Mr Grey..." She moaned against my chest. "We shouldn't be doing this at work. I came here strictly for business and nothing more."

"Does that mean you'll resign if I refuse to stop?"

Her silence answered for her.

"I believe you would have turned around and left my office the sooner you realized that I was to be your boss. But you're still here, aren't you, Miss Laurent?"

She said nothing, just breathing against me. I was a few seconds from lifting her off her feet and placing her on my office table, resuming where we left off.

However, my office door swung open.

"Dad!"

I lifted my gaze and saw my son walk in, his full front teeth displayed for the world to see.