Camilla sat at her desk, the glow of her computer screen casting light on her tired eyes as she scrolled through spreadsheets that blurred together. Dominic hadn't spoken to her since the kiss. Not a word. Not a glance. Nothing.
It had been two days.
Two days of silence. Two days of pretending nothing happened. Two days of pretending her heart didn't race every time his door opened.
She wasn't the type to chase. Not professionally, not romantically. But the way Dominic had looked at her before their lips met… that wasn't in her head. That wasn't some passing mistake.
It meant something.
Didn't it?
Her phone buzzed.
Dominic: My office. Now.
Her pulse skipped.
She stood quickly, smoothing her blouse, steadying her breath. Her heels clicked across the marble floor as she made her way to the lion's den.
When she walked in, he was leaning against the edge of his desk, suit jacket off, tie loosened. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing strong forearms, veins tracing down to his hands like a roadmap of tension.
"You asked for me?" she said, voice neutral.
He nodded, eyes unreadable. "Close the door."
She hesitated before obeying.
Once it clicked shut, the silence between them became something living—charged and thick.
He gestured to the chair across from him. "Sit."
"I prefer to stand."
His brow arched. "Still defiant."
Camilla folded her arms. "Still ignoring me."
Dominic looked at her then, fully. "I've been trying to forget that kiss."
Her breath hitched.
"But I can't."
She swallowed hard. "So, what now?"
He stood, walked toward her slowly. With every step, her resolve weakened.
When he stopped just inches away, he said, "You make it very hard to focus."
"You kissed me."
"I did."
"You liked it."
"I did."
"Then why are we pretending it didn't happen?"
He stepped even closer, his hand grazing her wrist. "Because I don't want to cross a line I can't uncross."
Camilla looked up at him, chin tilted defiantly. "Maybe it's already too late."
A beat of silence.
Then Dominic leaned in, brushing her hair back from her face, his fingertips grazing her cheek.
"I can't stop thinking about you," he whispered.
"Then don't," she breathed.
This time, the kiss wasn't rushed or stolen. It was deliberate. Dominating. His mouth claimed hers like he had waited a lifetime for permission.
Her hands slid up his chest, tugging at his tie as he backed her against the wall, lips never leaving hers.
It was wrong. It was reckless.
But it felt too damn good to care.
When they finally pulled apart, breathless, he rested his forehead against hers.
"This can't happen again," he murmured.
She smirked. "We said that last time."
He smiled—just slightly. "You're going to be the end of me, Camilla."
"Maybe I'll be your beginning."
Neither of them spoke after that. But the look they shared said it all.
Lines had been crossed.
And neither of them wanted to go back.