No room to refuse
1009 Words
(Sebastian)
I told Priya to bring her to my office at the end of the day. Not as a request. I made sure of that.
I sat behind my desk for twenty minutes doing nothing useful, running numbers I already knew, reading emails I didn't care about. I told myself this was about protocol. New hires met with department heads. Nothing more.
That was a lie I didn't even believe while thinking it.
A knock came right at five.
"Come in."
Zara stepped inside, and I watched her take in the office the way she'd taken in the mansion, quick and careful, like she was cataloging exits. She'd changed out of the visitor badge. Her employee one hung from a lanyard now, official, permanent.
"You wanted to see me, Mr. Wolfe?"
"Sebastian is fine. We've done more than shake hands."
Something in her expression closed off. "That was before I knew who you were."
"Would it have changed anything?"
"Everything."
I gestured to the chair across from my desk. She didn't move.
"I'll stand."
"Suit yourself."
I stood too, because sitting while she stood felt wrong, like I was interviewing her for something other than what she already had.
"I moved you onto my direct reports," I said. "The rebrand project."
Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"
"Because I wanted you close."
"That's not a professional reason."
"No," I agreed. "It isn't."
She crossed her arms. "You can't do that."
"I already did."
"This is inappropriate."
"Probably."
She stared at me like she expected an apology. I had none to offer.
"I asked for your name two nights ago," I said. "You told me no names."
"I didn't want a name. I wanted one night that had nothing to do with my real life."
"And now it does."
"Because you moved me onto your project out of spite."
"Not spite." I came around the desk, closing some of the distance between us. "Curiosity."
"About what?"
"Whether Trouble is still in there under the suit and the badge."
Her breath caught, just slightly, before she covered it. "That woman doesn't exist anymore."
"She existed two nights ago."
"She was drunk and heartbroken."
"She wasn't that drunk."
Her face colored. She hated that I'd noticed. I could tell.
"This can't happen," she said. "Whatever you think this is, it can't."
"Why not?"
"Because you're my boss."
"I'm aware."
"Because I just got out of a relationship where I felt stupid for three years, and I'm not doing that again with someone who signs my paycheck."
That landed harder than I expected. I studied her for a moment, the way her arms stayed crossed like armor, the way her chin lifted even while her voice shook slightly at the edges.
"I'm not him," I said.
"You're a stranger I slept with once."
"Who you can't stop looking at right now."
Her eyes moved to mine, then away, proving my point better than any argument could.
"That doesn't mean anything," she said.
"It means something."
I stepped closer. She didn't step back this time.
"You left a note," I said. "Try not to miss me too much. I read it four times before I threw it away."
"You weren't supposed to keep it that long."
"I wasn't supposed to think about you for two days either. Yet here we are."
She looked up at me, and for a moment the wall she'd built in that hallway cracked just enough for me to see the woman who'd walked across a bar with confidence she didn't fully feel.
"I have a job to keep," she said quietly. "A real one. I can't afford whatever this is."
"I'm not asking you to afford anything. I'm asking you to admit this isn't over just because you found out my last name."
"It has to be over."
"Why?"
"Because if it isn't, I'll lose control of it. And I just spent three years losing control of my life to someone who didn't deserve it. I won't do that again."
The honesty in that stopped me for a second. This wasn't a game to her. It never had been, even at the bar, even with the wig and the fake bravado. Underneath all of it, she was still a woman standing in the wreckage of something that broke her trust completely.
"I'm not going to hurt you the way he did," I said, quieter this time.
"You don't know that. You don't know me."
She turned toward the door, but I caught her wrist before she reached it. Not hard. Just enough to make her stop.
"Zara."
She looked back at me.
"I'm not letting this be nothing," I said. "Whatever it turns into, it won't be nothing."
For a long moment, neither of us moved. Her wrist felt warm under my fingers, her breathing quick and uneven, betraying every word she'd just used to convince me this was impossible.
Then she pulled her hand free.
"I need to go," she said, and this time I let her.
She walked out without looking back, and I stood there in the middle of my office listening to her heels fade down the hallway.
I should have let this end in that hallway outside the conference room, hours ago. I should have kept the wall between us that she'd tried so hard to build.
Instead I'd told Priya to move her onto my project, cornered her in my office, and held her wrist like I had any right to.
I picked up my phone and stared at the screen for a long moment.
Then I opened a new message to Priya.
*Pull Zara Morgan's schedule. I want to know which floor she's on every day this week.*
I didn't send it.
I deleted the message and set the phone down, because there was a difference between wanting someone and becoming a man who tracked her movements through a building.
I wasn't there yet.
But standing in that office, still catching traces of her perfume, I understood exactly how easily I could get there.
- Writer
