Sinful Affairs
Then it’s just us gathering papers, the air thick with everything we’re not saying.
“You’re impossible,” Promise says quietly.
I look up. His professional mask has cracked. “Am I?” I rounded the table, stopping just close enough to see his pulse hammering in his throat. “Or do I just want things you’re too afraid to reach for?”
His jaw tightens. “This isn’t about…”
“Isn’t it?” My voice drops. “We’re not talking about markets anymore, Promise.”
His breath catches on his name. “Mateo…”
The door swings open. Jennifer from Accounting, apologizing, grabs a folder. Promise moves past me so close his sleeve brushes mine, and I catch his scent, cedar, that’s been driving me slowly insane for months.