2

My heart ached for both of them. "Leo just needs constant attention right now, Sean. Don't ever give up on him."

The poor boy hadn't spoken a single word since the crash. The silence in that massive estate was deafening. But, by some miracle, Leo still listened to me. I was the only one he would let hold his hand, the only one who could get him to eat his meals without a fight.

"That's exactly why I need you tonight," Sean said, his tone turning dead serious as we finally stepped inside the soundproofed luxury of his RV. "We have some very important things to discuss."

Before I could ask what that meant, Sean reached up, unbuttoning his tailored suit jacket and tossing it onto the leather sofa. Next came his tie, and then he began unbuttoning his dress shirt.

Okay, let’s be entirely clear here.

I was his PA, but I was also secretly his number-one fan. It wasn't just because of how brilliantly he acted or how perfect he seemed to the public; it was because the man genuinely looked like he had been sculpted by Michelangelo. 

He had the body of a Greek god, all lean muscle and broad shoulders, paired with the intense, commanding eyes of Zeus.

Even though I was completely used to him stripping down wherever and whenever he pleased between takes, a treacherous blush still crept up my neck. I quickly looked down at my tablet, pretending to check his schedule to hide my burning cheeks.

"I'm just so exhausted, Lyka," Sean muttered, running a hand through his dark hair as he threw on a loose, comfortable grey tee. 

"Lately, things just seem to fly by without any real purpose." He looked out the tinted window, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I miss Valerie. I miss the way things used to be before the world went dark."

Hearing him say her name felt like a physical twist of a knife in my chest. I loved him, but I was a ghost compared to the memory of his late wife. I stood there, holding his coffee like a shield, completely unaware of the cold, calculated proposal he was about to lay at my feet.

"Then why not take a break? A vacation?" I suggested softly.

As he took a sip of the coffee, I stepped in closer, taking his discarded shirt and suit jacket from his hands to hang them neatly on the built-in coat rack.

"Do you think it would help?" he asked, looking down at me through long, dark lashes.

"Of course it would," I said. I traded his empty coffee cup for two pills and a bottle of water, pressing them into his palm.

He stared at the pills, then looked up at me, bewildered. "How did you know I have a headache?"

I rolled my eyes playfully. "Should I answer that, or should I just empty your entire schedule for your well-deserved break?"

"I can't, Lyka," he murmured, his voice cracking slightly. He looked away, staring blankly at the wall of the RV as he swallowed the medicine. 

If I stop working, I’ll just remember her. I’ll see her everywhere... on the beach, at the vacation house. Everywhere." His voice slowed down, dropping to a tight, thick whisper, as if he were fighting with everything he had not to shed a tear right in front of me.

My chest tightened, a familiar, hollow ache opening up inside me.

Valerie.

For five years, her shadow had been a permanent fixture in my life. I still vividly remembered the day I landed this job. It hadn't actually been Sean who chose me, it was Valerie. 

She had insisted he employ me because, according to her, I was smart, kind, and one of the few women who didn’t look at Sean the way the others did. 

She used to laugh and say everyone else looked at her husband like he was a giant scoop of ice cream they wanted to devour.

A few years ago, over a casual lunch in his dressing room, Valerie had even teased me about it. 

“Lyka, seriously, how do you do it? How have you never even thought of flirting with Sean, or had a little crush on him? You’re always so perfectly professional, like he’s just a regular guy.”

I had laughed it off back then, offering a smooth, practiced lie.

Of course, I could never tell her the truth. I could never tell her that the only reason I had applied to be her husband’s PA in the first place was because I was his number-one fan. 

I was so deeply, secretly in love with Sean McGregor that I had packed up my entire life, left my family, and walked away from our successful family business back in London just to be near him.

I had spent five years being the perfect, stoic, untouchable assistant, burying my feelings so deep that even his wife thought I was immune to him. 

And now, watching him break down over her memory, the guilt of my silent, years-long betrayal mixed with the agonizing pain of knowing I would never measure up to the ghost of the woman he loved.

I looked up at him, the silence in the RV suddenly feeling heavy. 

"Then why not look for someone? I mean, it’s been eight months, Sean. Maybe Leo needs a new, you know... mother figure. Would you like me to look into some profiles? I could interview someone who has the potential to be your—"

Before the words could fully leave my mouth, the RV swerved violently to the left. I hadn't even realized the driver had started pulling out of the studio lot. 

Caught completely off guard, my heels slipped on the polished floor. I lost my balance entirely, the clipboard clattering from my hands as I went flying.

I didn't hit the floor. Instead, I crashed directly into Sean.

"What the—" Sean growled, but the breath was knocked right out of him as I landed heavily on his lap.

It was absolute chaos. In a fraction of a second, my hands slammed against his bare chest for balance, my face buried right into the warm crook of his neck, and my hair flew everywhere, blinding both of us. 

As I tried to wildly scramble backward, my forehead came up hard and cracked straight into his jaw.

Thud.

"Damn it, Lyka!" he groaned, his head snapping back from the impact.

But as the vehicle stabilized and the initial shock wore off, the chaos instantly froze into a suffocating, hyper-aware stillness.

I was completely straddling his lap. My heart was hammering so hard against his ribs I was certain he could feel it. 

To keep me from falling again, Sean’s large, warm hands had locked tightly around my frame, one gripping my waist, and the other pressed firmly against my buttocks, anchoring me flat against his thighs.

The position was incredibly, dangerously intimate. His body heat was radiating through my clothes, and his scent was entirely overwhelming up this close. I felt my face turn a furious, burning shade of crimson.

For a second, neither of us moved. Sean’s grip tightened instinctively, his dark eyes locking onto mine from mere inches away, his breathing ragged. 

The heavy, unscripted tension in the air was thick enough to choke on.

Then, realizing exactly where his hand was resting, Sean swore under his breath. "Fuck—"