All Chapters of Bound By The Desk : Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Vorian's POV The office is quiet after Silas leaves. The door stays closed. Zephyr stands beside my desk with his tablet, scrolling through the list of files Miles accessed. His face is calm. Focused. Professional.I am not.I keep looking at him. The line of his neck. The way his shirt sits against his shoulders. The memory of yesterday is still too close. The way he tied my wrists. The way he pushed me down on this same desk. My body remembers it too clearly.I reach out and touch his wrist.Zephyr glances at me. “We need to finish this,” he says.“I know,” I answer. My fingers stay on his skin.He looks down at my hand, then back at my face. “Vorian,” he says. “Focus.”I stand up. The chair rolls back. I step closer until there is almost no space between us. “I am focused,” I say.“On the wrong thing,” he replies.I lean in and kiss him. Soft at first. Just a test. His lips stay still for one second. Then he kisses me back. The tablet hits the desk with a quiet sound. My hands mov

Zephyr's POVThe day ends later than I planned. Most of the floor is already empty. The lights in the hallway are dim, buzzing faintly overhead, and the usual noise of keyboards and printers is gone. It feels like the building is finally exhaling. I step into Vorian’s office and close the door behind me. The room smells like leather and the faint trace of his cologne that always lingers on the couch. He is still at his desk, jacket off, looking at nothing in particular. The skyline behind him is all lit up, but he isn’t watching it. I set my bag down. “You are still here,” I say. “So are you,” he answers. I walk closer and lean against the edge of his desk. The wood is cool under my palms. For a while neither of us speaks. The quiet feels different tonight. Softer. Less heavy than the last few days. No emails pinging. No urgent calls. Just the low hum of the building and the city far below. Vorian looks at me. “We should do something that is not this,” he says. I tilt my he

Silas’ POV The café is small and warm. Soft lights hang over the tables. The smell of coffee and fresh bread fills the air. I sit across from Selene with a cup of black coffee in front of me. She ordered something sweet with too much foam. She looks relaxed tonight. Her hair is down. She is wearing a simple dark top. I like the way she looks when she is not at work.“You are quiet,” she says. She stirs her drink with the little wooden stick.“I am thinking,” I answer.“About work?” she asks.“A little,” I say. “Mostly about how long it has been since I sat somewhere without a laptop.”She smiles. “That is sad.”“I know,” I reply. “Do not judge me too hard.”She leans forward a little. “I am not judging. I am impressed you made it out of the office at all.”I take a sip of my coffee. It is strong and hot. “I can be fun,” I say.“Prove it,” she answers.I open my mouth to say something clever, but the door of the café opens with a small bell sound. I glance over out of habit. Then I f

Vorian's POV The car drops us near a quiet street in the 7th arrondissement. I place my hand on the small of Zephyr’s back as we walk toward the restaurant. It is small, with dark wood and warm light spilling onto the sidewalk.Inside, the host leads us to a table near the window. Zephyr sits across from me. The black shirt looks even better under the low lights. He glances around once, then back at me.“This is perfect,” he says.“I hoped you would like it,” I answer.We order simply. Wine for him. Water for me. Food that takes time to arrive. I do not mind. I watch the way he looks at the menu, the way he smiles at the waiter, the way his shoulders finally relax. For the first time in weeks, neither of us is waiting for a phone to ring or a door to open without warning.Halfway through the meal, two young women at a nearby table keep glancing over. One of them whispers to the other. I notice, but I do not react. Zephyr notices too. He raises an eyebrow at me.“They are staring,” he

Zephyr's POVThe smell of my mother’s cooking fills the whole house. I sit at the dining table with my elbows on the wood. It feels strange to be here in the middle of the day after Paris. My body is still on another time zone, but the noise of home pulls me back fast.My mother sets a full plate in front of me and wipes her hands on her apron. “Eat,” she says. “You look like you have been surviving on airplane food and stress.”“I am fine,” I answer.She gives me a look. “You disappear for two days, come back with that soft smile on your face, and tell me you are fine. Sit properly and eat.”My sister drops into the chair across from me. “She has been saying that since you walked in,” Selene says. “You would think you were gone for a year.”“I was gone for two days,” I reply.“Two days too long,” my mother says. “It is good to have both of my children at the table at the same time. This almost never happens anymore.”My father comes in from the living room and takes his seat at the h