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Just because I’m suffering doesn’t mean my best friend has to suffer with me, right? There’s no point in demanding more attendees to my pity party. Jillian already felt guilty enough that she couldn’t hang out tonight.

I’m refilling my water bottle when I hear footsteps.

I don’t think much of it. It’s just night security doing rounds, most likely. They’re used to seeing me here, so they won’t even stop to make sure I’m not about to lose my mind; they know that’s a losing battle. But then the footsteps cross the empty floorwith purpose, and they’re clearly not the soft shuffle of someone idly vacuuming or the measured pace of a guard.

They’re heading straight for me.

I look up. Kir, of all people, is striding toward my desk. His tie is loosened, his jacket gone. There’s a frenzied, manic light in his eye.

He stops at the edge of my desk. Strangely close. “I was hoping you’d still be here.”

My stomach churns at the roughness threading through his voice. I can’t explain why, but I have this creeping feeling that it doesn’t bode well for me.

“The revisions are almost done,” I say. “I just need another hour, maybe two, and then?—”

“I don’t care about the revisions anymore.”

I blink. “What?”

“I said I don’t care.” He comes around the desk. I push my chair back, but there’s nowhere to go. The window is behind me. He’s in front. I’m trapped. “That’s not why I came back.”

“Kir—”

“I came back because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

I open my mouth. Nothing comes out.

“I’ve tried,” he continues. He’s so close now I can smell his cologne. It’s cinnamon-y. Makes my head swim. “God knows I’ve tried. You work for me. It’s inappropriate. It’s wrong. But I can’t…” He reaches out and brushes a strand of dirty blonde hair away from my face. “I can’t help it.”

His fingers graze my cheek. I jerk away.

“Rae…”

I’m on my feet now. My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears. “You can’t just— I mean, you’re my boss.”

“I know.”

I start to ramble incoherently, feeling like confused steam is pouring out of every orifice I possess. “It’s just, you’re my boss and I’m your— your— I mean, you had me working here until midnight, even though— For God’s sake, it’s my— Your assistant! My boss! On my birthday?!”

“It’s your birthday…?” To my surprise, he actually has the decency to look guilty. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I wanted an excuse to keep you close.”

I hold up my hands, putting space between us. “Whatever this is, whatever you think is happening, it’s not. Okay? It’s really, really not.”

He doesn’t move. “You feel nothing?”

“I feeltired,” I insist. “And hungry. I just want to go home.”

But nothing I say seems to be dissuading him.

He’s beautiful. That’s the problem. Beautiful people never get told no.

Despite the lettering on his office door that saysCEO—Lazarev Globaland a paycheck with enough zeroes to make me nauseous, Kir is barely thirty, and his face has this sharp, almost cruel perfection to it, like he just got carved out of marble yesterday. High cheekbones, strong jaw, and a mouth that looks like it was designed specifically to say cutting things.

His eyes are the worst part. They’re a piercing gray. Just like his famous father’s, everyone says, though I’ve never met Lukas Lazarev in person, so I wouldn’t know. Gray like storm clouds. Gray like steel. Gray like the kind of bitter cold that gets into your bones and doesn’t leave.

His dark hair is usually perfect, but tonight, it’s mussed, like he’s been running his hands through it. There’s stubble along his jaw. Just enough to make him look less polished. More human.

But I know better than to believe he’s human. I’ve been working for him too long to believe that.