One Week Later

A week had passed since the day I unraveled in Roman's arms.

Seven days of pretending like my chest wasn't constantly aching for him, like my skin didn't burn when he wasn't near. Like the space and distance he'd given me-just like I had asked-didn't end up killing me,instead of making me feel alive.

So I buried myself in work. It was easier to drown in spreadsheets and phone calls than sit still and remember the way he'd held me-so fiercely,so tenderly, like he could break the world in half if it meant keeping me safe.

Then he'd given me space.

But even in the hum of the office, he was there. In the brush of air against my neck that felt like his breath. In the weight of silence between meetings that made me wonder if he was watching somehow. In the way I caught myself smiling for no reason, only to shake it off quickly before anyone noticed. In the tight press of my thighs against each other.

It was stupid. I was supposed to be focusing on work, on rebuilding the pieces of my life. Instead, I kept reliving every glance, every touch,every promise laced in his voice.

And then the flowers arrived just after lunch, and of course it had to be enormous. A gaudy, gorgeous jungle of long-stemmed roses,lilies,and orchids that looked like they belonged in a wedding hall. Every expensive flower you could imagine bursting in one arrangement, like a forest had exploded in color. It blocked half my computer screen.

The delivery guy wheeled it in like he was unloading cargo,dropped it with a grin, and left me to drown in petals and stares. The giant bouquet landed on my desk with a heavy thud that made half the office swivel in their chairs.

Every single head in the office turned. Conversations sputtered to silence. Clara from accounting clapped her hands like she'd just witnessed a marriage proposal.

The entire office stopped pretending to work. Heads popped up over cubicles like meerkats. Phones went down. Everyone stared, whispering,like a live-action soap opera had just started in the middle of our floor.

I gave my best award-winning fake smile, the one that said Yes, I'm flattered, bout please, let's pretend this isn't happening, and tuggred the card loose from the stems. Then I put it back. My hands shook just a little-because I already knew who they were from.

Roman.

And of course, the whispers started immediately.

"Damn, Savannah, got yourself a secret admirer too?" someone from accounting called.

"Secret? That's her fiancé making a love declaration of war," another chimed in, peeking over the cubicle wall.

Shit. I suddenly remembered that thanks to Lizzie and Bridal Luxe,everybody believed I was engaged to Roman for real.

I wanted to disappear into the carpet. My cheeks burned hot while I fumbled with the envelope tucked in the blooms. Everyone was staring.some trving to be subtle, others outright craning their necks to see what I'd

read.

I slidthe card out, heart hammering before I even looked. Two words,written in sharp, dark strokes I knew too well:

Ten minutes.

Beneath it, in smaller letters, as though he'd whispered onto the page:

My office.

My phone buzzed right on cue. It was a text from him.

Roman: Ten minutes. I'm burning for you. Don't keep me waiting.

My throat went dry instantly. The wetness rushed downward and I dug my teeth into my bottom lip to keep myself grounded.

I should've been irritated-arrogant bastard sending flowers big enough to take up a lobby, knowing the entire office would see. Instead.my pulse throbbed in all the places I didn't want to acknowledge while heat flushed low in my belly.

But there was a problem.

And the problem? It wasn't break time. It wasn't even close. How the hell was I supposed to walk out now without an excuse? My boss wasn't the type to ignore someone slipping out. not when we were mid-project.

And fuck, my panties weren't going to survive till work's over today.

I tapped my fingers against the desk, trying to figure out wht to do,when I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye.

The boss's secretary was standing in the doorway. "Savannah? Mr.

Goldberg would like to see you."

Every set of eyes swung toward me. My coworkers pretended to turn back,to their screens, but I could feel the smirks and raised brows burning into me.

I straightened my blouse, tucked my hair behind my ear, and forced myself to walk calmly, heels clicking against the tile even though my insides were chaos.

Mr. Goldberg's office was wide and glass-paneled. He was standing near his desk when I walked in, his tie loosened, an odd smile on his face.

"Close the door,Savannah," he said.

My palms went clammy.

'I obeyed, unsure if this was about the flowers or a late reportor something else entirely.

"You've been working hard," he said. "The last few days,especially.I think you've earned a day off."

I blinked at him. "A... day off?"

He chuckled, like he'd been expecting my confusion. "Yes. Take the rest of today. Go. Enjoy yourself."

It landed then. The too-knowing smile. The timing. The words. The fact that my boss-notoriously stingy with time off-was suddenly offering it like candy.

Roman.

Of course. How could I forget they wvere friends?

I swallowed, thanked Mr. Goldberg quickly, and slipped out, pulse racing for an entirely different reason now. Excitement.

By the time I was in my car, my hands were trembling on the wheel as I glanced at the bouquet on my passenger seat. Roman had pulled strings. Again. Just like that, my carefully ordered day, my schedule, my control-gone.Bending arounad his will.

And the worst part? I was excited.

The city blurred as I drove toward his building. Sleek glass, his name in steel letters out front, guards and receptionists who all knew exactly who he was- and, apparently, who I was becoming.

By the time I stepped into the elevator, my nerves were strung tight.I kept smoothing my skirt, fixing my hair, checking my reflection,pressing my thighs together, trying to hide the anticipation burning through me.

When the doors opened, he was already there. Leaning against the frame of his office doorway, sleeves rolled to his elbows, tie loosened,green eyes fixed on me like I was the only thing worth looking at.

"You took your time," he said.

I opened my mouth to argue, but the words died when he reached for me.

One tug and I was inside, the door slamming shut behind us. His mouth was on mine, hot and demanding, swallowing my gasp before I could make a sound.