CHAPTER TWO

—LENA:

Sebastien didn't move right away. He stood near the door, his outer jacket discarded over his arm, watching me as if he was deciding something. Or restraining himself. " Sit" he said in a commanding tone.

I crossed the room and took the chair opposite his desk, every step too loud in the silence. The air felt heavier in here, charged in a way that made my skin prickle. He circled behind his desk and picked up the contract again as though nothing about this situation was unusual. As though my pulse wasn't racing hard enough to give me away.

For a while the only sound in his office was the soft slide of paper and the faint scratch of his pen. I couldn't stop staring at his hands.

The way his long fingers traced down the pages, the way he pause and make a note before flipping to the next section. He has the kind of hands that looks like they were used to taking what they wanted, and stopping when they choose to.

God. Get a grip, Lena! I forced my attention back to the paper before my thoughts could wander. I had a crush on my boss. Reckless, dangerous and entirely inappropriate that could cost me everything if I let it slip.

"Miss Moreau." His voice snapped me back.

I jumped, heat flooding my cheeks. "Yes?"

He slid something across the desk towards me without looking up. A black card. "You haven’t eaten" he said. " Order dinner."

I stared at it then shook my head slightly. "I am fine sir. I’m not hungry.”

That earned me his full attention.

His gaze lifted slowly, traveled over my face before dropping deliberately to my collarbone and waist. It lingered long enough to make me aware of every inch of myself. But something dark passed through his eyes before he looked back at the papers.

"You should eat anyway." He said quietly. "I can't have you fading away."

My breath caught. The way he said it didn't sound like concern. He sounded like he was imagining what I looked like under my clothes. “I'm really fine.” I insisted, though my voice betrayed me.

“Lena.” He pushed the card closer. “Order dinner.”

The way he said my name made my stomach flip. I reached for the card before I could think better of it. Our fingers brushed and that familiar jolt sparked between us, sharp and undeniable. His jaw tightened. Mine did too.

“What would you like?” I asked, keeping my eyes on the card.

He shrugged. “You can have whatever you want. I don't eat this late.”

I wasn't surprised with the answer. I'd never seen him eat anything, not once in the three weeks I have been working for him. I ordered food for two anyways. Some foolish part of me hope he would change his mind.

When the delivery arrived, I ate and watched him from the corner of my eye. He was focused on the contract. One long finger resting against his lip as he thought. I clenched my thighs. His fingers were bigger than mine. I almost choke at my wild thought, that came to my mind. what the hell is wrong with me? I forced my eyes back to my plate.

“You're really not going to eat?” I asked.

“I already told you, Miss Moreau, I don't eat this late.”

“So, when do you eat?”

His gaze snapped to mine, flashing gold “I don't see how that's any of your concern. And how closely have you been watching me to notice that?”

“I haven't —” I stopped myself, flustered.

“If you must know, " he said flatly, " I'm particular about my diet.”

Before I could ask anything else, the lights went out. I gasped, my fork clattering against the desk.

"Fuck." Sebastien's voice cut through the darkness. I heard him move, then the glow of his phone lit his face. “This is Vale. Power just went out on the executive floor.” He paused. “I don’t care for excuses. Fix it.”

“They are working on it.” He muttered as the emergency dim light flicker on.

The AC had gone out with the lights, and the air was getting warmer.

We went back to work, but within minutes, sweat gathered at my temples. I tugged at my collar, fanning myself with a folder. "God, it's hot in here.”

Sebastien glanced up. He was still fully buttoned, his tie still knotted and his jacket on. Not a drop of sweat on him.

"Is it?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"How are you not sweating right now?"

He looked down at himself, then shrugged out of his inner jacket. "I run cold."

He rolled up his sleeves. His forearms were ridiculously huge and gorgeous, he was marble pale, with muscles flexing with each movement.

I looked away immediately. Too late. If he wanted to, he could pick me up like paper, slam me against the wall, pin my arms above my head and –

"You should take yours off too," he said, glancing at where I was still tugging at my collar.

My stomach flipped. "What?"

"Your shirt" he clarified. " You're burning up."

"I can't just—"

"That wasn't a suggestion "

The authority in his voice left no room for arguments. I hesitated. I had a camisole underneath my shirt, but no bra. I hadn’t bother to put on one this morning. Now I was about to remove my shirt in front of my boss and to sit across from him in a thin white fabric.

Oh fuck it. I unbuttoned my blouse and slipped it off, draping it over the back of my chair. When I looked up, he was watching me. I crossed my arms, suddenly self-conscious, but he'd already seen enough. The thin fabric clung to my sweaty skin.

"Better?" He asked. His voice was rougher now.

"Yeah," I whispered.

We tried to work, but I couldn't focus. Every time he leaned closer to indicate a section of the contract, I caught his scent. Clean, woody and unmistakably him. Once, I stood close, his arm brushed mine close enough to steal my breath. I bit down on my lips to stay quiet.

"This clause here," he said, voice tight. "It needs revision "

He leaned in close enough that I could feel the coolness of his skin through the heat. I shivered from the way his breath ghosted my neck.

"Do you see it?" he asked softly.

I stared at the page, unable to make sense of the words. " Yes," I lied.

He didn't move away. We stayed like that, shoulder to shoulder, both pretending to work. The tension pressed down on me, thick and suffocating.

Then the lights flickered back on. The AC roared to life, blasting cold air across my skin. I sucked in a sharp breath as goosebumps rose across my skin. My nipples tightened against the thin fabric. I looked down.

Fuck!

When I looked up, Sebastien was staring. His eyes darken, his gaze locked on my chest before he caught himself. His jaw clenched so tightly, i thought he might crack a tooth. I reached for my shirt.

His hand shot out, catching my wrist. "Don't.”

My breath hitched, heart pounding. "Sir—"

"I said don't." His grip tightened, cold fingers locked around my wrist.

  And for the first time since I'd walked Into his office, neither of us moved.