Chapter 7: The Rules We Keep BreakingWe didn’t speak for three days.Not a message. Not a glance. Not a meeting booked or canceled. It was like the kiss behind the ballroom had never happened.Except it had.And every inch of my skin remembered it.I replayed it in my head like a movie I couldn’t stop watching. The pressure of his mouth. The taste of his jealousy. The fact that for one terrifying second, I believed he felt something.But then he walked away.And I was left wondering if I had imagined the whole damn thing.I spent the fourth day avoiding his floor. I worked from the conference room, attended team calls, even volunteered for a marketing review just to stay out of his gravitational pull.But he still found me.I was leaving the office late—heels in one hand, hair undone, phone pressed between shoulder and cheek—when the elevator opened and there he was.Dominic.Leaning against the wall like he hadn’t broken me in every way a man could.“Going somewhere?” he asked.I fr
Chapter 6: The Jealous KissI didn’t plan on meeting Rafael Santiago that night.But fate, tequila, and a red dress had other plans.The company gala was held at a glass-walled rooftop ballroom in downtown Manhattan. Black ties, champagne towers, strings of diamonds, and secrets hidden in silk. I wore a crimson slit dress that hugged my hips like a second skin. My hair was swept back, my heels were too high, and every eye followed me when I walked in.Including his.Dominic stood near the bar in a black tuxedo, talking to a board member. He didn’t approach. He didn’t wave.But his stare burned into me like a promise.And then Rafael walked up.Tall. Bronze-skinned. With a Spanish accent that could melt glaciers and a smile like sin.“Lana Lane,” he said, offering his hand with a sly grin. “Dominic’s intern, yes?”“I’m not an intern,” I replied.He chuckled. “Even better.”We talked. We danced. He flirted in ways Dominic never would—open, easy, playful. The kind of man who’d take you t
Chapter 5: The Desk SubmissionThe message had no signature.It didn’t need one.By the time ten minutes passed, I was in the private hallway that led to his executive suite. My heart pounded like a warning bell, but my body moved anyway—guided by memory, desire, and a raw curiosity I hadn’t been able to silence since the first night.I wore the black lace.No bra.Just like he ordered.When I reached the door, it was already unlocked.I stepped inside quietly.Dominic sat behind his massive mahogany desk, sleeves rolled to the elbows, forearms flexed as he typed. The floor-to-ceiling windows behind him spilled golden light across the hardwood floor, turning the room into a stage.He didn’t look up. “Lock the door.”Click.“Come here.”My heels were soundless on the plush rug, but my pulse thundered loud enough to drown out logic. I stood at the front of the desk, unsure if I should speak.“I said no bra, Miss Lane,” he said without lifting his eyes from the screen.“I’m not wearing o
Chapter 4: The Elevator SceneThe elevator was full.Too full.Eight people stood between me and Dominic, including Camilla from reception, three department heads, and two junior analysts who pretended not to exist when executives were around.The metal doors slid shut, and I was pressed against the far wall. Dominic stood by the panel, hands in his pockets, face blank. A casual observer would never guess what we’d done barely twenty minutes ago in a soundproof office built for sin.But I knew.My body still ached in the best way. My underwear stuck damp against my skin, and every bump of the elevator made it worse.I tried not to look at him.Failed.His eyes flicked to mine once. Just once. And in that half-second, everything ignited.A muscle flexed in his jaw. That was all.But it was enough.Halfway to the ground floor, the elevator jolted. A soft mechanical hum stalled.The lights flickered.Everyone shifted awkwardly, nervous laughter bubbling up from the back.“We’re stopping?
Chapter 3: Heat Behind Closed DoorsI told myself it would be easy.One night. No emotions. No attachments.But Monday morning came, and I walked into the Voss & Rose building wearing a black pencil skirt and a button-down shirt I didn’t remember buying because I’d dressed like armor. Like I could forget how I moaned his name two nights ago while tangled in his sheets.Except forgetting was impossible when he was on the top floor… and I worked two floors beneath him.The office felt different. People moved with urgency, heels clicking against polished marble, voices clipped and professional. I was one of them. I had to be one of them.But my body still remembered his hands. His mouth. His voice when he whispered, “Good girl.”“Lana.” My supervisor’s voice broke through my haze. “Mr. Voss wants to see you. Top floor.”I blinked. “What?”“You heard me.” She didn’t wait for me to move—she was already gone.My heart pounded against my ribs as I stepped into the elevator. I’d told myself t
Chapter 2: The Rules of HeatThe bedroom was quiet.Too quiet.I closed the door behind me and stood in front of the full-length mirror, holding the box like it might bite me. My reflection stared back eyes wild, chest rising and falling like I’d run a mile. The red lace inside the box looked like sin wrapped in confidence. It whispered: You know you want this.And maybe I did.I slipped out of my dress slowly. Each movement felt more forbidden than the last. My zipper echoed in the stillness like the sound of rules being broken. I peeled the silk from my skin and slid the lingerie on each strap, each clasp, each lace panel pressing against my curves like a promise.The bra was a perfect fit. Too perfect. The panties sat low on my hips, the scalloped edge teasing the dip of my thighs. I’d never felt so naked while being technically dressed.I walked back into the suite barefoot, heart pounding in places I didn’t know had a pulse.Dominic stood by the window, back turned, a glass of so