Condoms

Phoenix

His office is massive.

I step inside and just — stand there for a second, taking it in. Floor to ceiling windows, the whole city laid out beneath them like it belongs to him. Dark wood, clean lines, not a single thing out of place.

There’s a framed photo on his desk and I drift toward it before I can stop myself.

It’s him on a tennis court. White shirt, white shorts, racket in hand, caught mid-laugh at something outside the frame. He looks light. Easy. Nothing like the man commanding a room full of interns twenty minutes ago, nothing like the Victor Crowe I’ve watched in interviews and magazine covers my whole life. Like outside of all of this, when no one who matters is watching, he actually knows how to be happy.

I stare at it longer than I should.

The drawer beside the desk is half open.

I should leave it alone, but I open it out of curiosity and immediately wish I hadn’t.

Condoms. An open box of them. Several already missing.

I pick one up. Read the label.

Extra large.

Oh my fucking God.

Heat crawls straight down my spine and pools somewhere it absolutely should not. I’m standing in my future boss’s office holding proof that the man is packing, and my brain — my traitorous, useless brain goes exactly where it shouldn’t.

*He’s huge.*

And then the next thought, worse:

Why does he keep these here?

I look at the drawer. Look at the door. Look back at the condom.

Does he bring women up here? Staff? Interns? Is that… is that what this is? Did he call me up here because he wants to fuck me?

The door opens.

I spin around and shove my hand behind my back so fast I nearly knock the photo off the desk. My fingers crush the foil packet and I paste the most innocent expression I own onto my face.

It’s not him.

It’s a woman—beautiful, sharp, somewhere in her late thirties. She looks at me like I’m something she scraped off the bottom of her shoe.

“Who are you?” she asks.

“An intern. Mr. Crowe asked me to wait here.”

“Liar.” She takes a step toward me, looking me up and down. “Victor Crowe doesn’t invite interns into his office. Especially one who looks like a gutter rat. So what exactly are you doing here?”

I lift my chin and clear my throat. “Well… maybe I’m special.”

She lets out a scornful laugh. “Indeed.”

Then her gaze drops to my hands.

To the way I’m holding them behind my back.

Her eyes narrow.

“What are you hiding? Are you stealing from him?”

“No.” I shake my head, suddenly nervous. “Why would I steal?”

She closes the distance between us. “You tell me.”

The door behind her swings open.

Victor Crowe walks in.

His gaze flicks from her to me.

“What are you doing, Octavia?” His voice is calm, but there’s steel beneath it.

“I walked into your office and found her stealing.”

“I wasn’t stealing.”

His eyes move between us before settling on Octavia.

“You should leave.”

Her brows knit together. “But…”

“Now.”

The single word slices through the room.

She holds his gaze for a beat too long, then turns on her heel and walks out, pulling the door shut behind her.

And then it’s just us.

He crosses the room toward me.

I take a step back.

Then another.

My back collides with the shelving unit, but he doesn’t stop. He keeps coming until he’s standing right in front of me. One hand braces against the shelf above my head, caging me in.

His face is inches from mine.

The air leaves my lungs.

Heat radiates from him, wrapping around me until it’s impossible to think. I can feel it through my blazer, through every layer between us. Up close, he’s even more intimidating than I remember. More than the man in photographs. More than the polished executive from interviews.

His eyes drop to my lips.

I swallow a lump in my throat. He is mouth is inches from mine that if any of us moved…

Fuck. He’s going to kiss me.

My heart is slamming against my ribs.

Is this why he called me up here? Not to reprimand me. Not to fire me. But because he looked at me in that session room and wanted to sleep with me?

I was right about him.

“Give me what you’re hiding, Kid.” he says.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”

His other hand finds my wrist and draws my arm out slowly from behind my back. The condom sits in my palm between us.

I want to die. I genuinely want the floor to open and swallow me whole.

He takes it from my hand. Steps back. The cold air that rushes in where his warmth was feels criminal.

He walks to his desk without a word and I scramble. “I’m sorry, the drawer was open and I wasn’t trying to snoop I just… I saw it and I—” I stop because there is no good ending to that sentence and we both know it.

He sits down. Sets the condom on the desk. Doesn’t look at me.

“Your internship placement is cancelled.”

My stomach drops. “What?”

He didn’t ask me into his office because he recognized me.

He asked me here to fire me.

“Effective today.”

“You can’t do that.”

“You were late. And you went through my personal belongings.” He opens a folder on his desk. “I can’t have interns in this company if I can’t trust them. Collect your things.”

“Please.” I step toward his desk. “Please don’t do this. I know I messed up. I know today has been a disaster from the beginning. But I’m good at this. I worked for this. Check my portfolio. Check my thesis. Check anything. I deserve to be here. I know you don’t owe me anything, but please… I’m asking you.”

He looks up.

Really looks at me.

His eyes linger, searching my features as though he’s trying to place a memory that’s just out of reach.

“Uncle Victor,” I say quietly.

His brow furrows.

“You don’t recognize me… do you?”

Silence stretches between us.

“It’s Phoenix.” I hold his gaze. “Phoenix Veyl.”

He doesn’t move.

He just stares at me.

Then, almost under his breath—

“Daniel’s daughter.”