By Monday evening, the rain had been falling for hours. Sheets of water slammed against the glass walls of Blackwood Enterprises, blurring the glittering city into a smear of silver and gray. The storm showed no mercy, and neither, apparently, did Ethan Blackwood.

“Miss Collins,” his voice cut through the silence of the boardroom. “You’re distracted.”

I snapped my gaze back to the document spread before me, cheeks warming. “Sorry, sir. It’s just ”

“The weather?” His tone was cool, unreadable. “We can’t control storms. But we can control deadlines.”

I bit my lip, lowering my head. He was right. He was always right. But that didn’t stop the unease coiling in my stomach as thunder rattled the windows.

It was nearly ten o’clock, and the office was deserted except for the two of us. Everyone else had gone home hours ago, but Ethan had ordered me to stay behind to finalize a presentation.

I told myself I didn’t mind. That I was grateful for the opportunity. But the truth? Being alone with him this late was dangerous. Not because I feared him no, never that but because of the way my body betrayed me every time his gaze lingered too long, every time his voice dipped low enough to curl around my heartbeat.

Lightning lit up the sky, followed by another crash of thunder. I flinched, dropping my pen. It rolled across the table, stopping at his hand.

Without a word, he picked it up and held it out to me.

Our fingers brushed.

A spark shot through me, sharp and undeniable. I pulled back quickly, mumbling a quiet, “Thank you.”

His eyes lingered on me for a moment too long, and I couldn’t tell if it was my imagination or if there was something different in them tonight. Something softer.

“You should go home,” he said suddenly, leaning back in his chair. “It’s late.”

I hesitated, glancing toward the glass doors. Rain hammered against them, rivers of water streaming down. “The streets are flooded. I don’t think I can make it back safely.”

For a moment, silence hung heavy between us. Then he sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “Then you’ll wait it out.”

I nodded, but my chest tightened. Waiting it out meant more hours in this suffocating, electric silence. More hours with the man I wasn’t supposed to want.

By midnight, the storm showed no signs of easing. I stood by the window, arms wrapped around myself, watching the lightning streak across the sky.

Behind me, Ethan’s voice broke the quiet. “You’re shivering.”

I turned, startled to find him watching me. His suit jacket was gone, his tie loosened, the first two buttons of his shirt undone. It was the most unguarded I had ever seen him, and it made my heart race in ways I didn’t want to admit.

“I’m fine,” I whispered.

He rose from his chair, walking toward me with measured steps. The soft glow of the desk lamp caught in his eyes, turning them darker, deeper.

“Miss Collins,” he said, his voice low. “Do you know what your biggest flaw is?”

I frowned, unsure whether to be offended or afraid. “No, sir.”

“You hide yourself,” he said, stopping just inches away. “Behind timidity. Behind excuses. But I’ve seen glimpses of the real you.”

My breath caught. “The real me?”

His gaze dropped briefly to my lips before locking onto my eyes again. “The one who doesn’t flinch when challenged. The one who argued with me in this very room last week. That’s the Aria Collins who intrigues me.”

My pulse thundered in my ears. Intrigues him? Did he really just say that?

I took a shaky step back, but the window pressed against my spine. There was nowhere to go. His presence wrapped around me, overwhelming, intoxicating.

“Sir…” My voice wavered. “This isn’t this can’t ”

He leaned closer, his breath brushing my cheek. “Tell me you don’t feel it.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, as if that could block out the truth. The storm raged outside, but the storm inside me was worse. My heart knew what my mouth refused to admit.

“I…” The word trembled on my tongue. “I don’t know.”

For a moment, silence stretched, heavy and fragile. Then he stepped back, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable.

“You should rest in the lounge,” he said coldly, as if the last few minutes hadn’t happened. “I’ll have someone drive you home when the storm clears.”

The distance in his voice cut deeper than I expected. But as I walked away, my heart still hammered, every nerve in my body alive with the memory of his nearness.

And I knew no matter how hard I tried to deny it I was already lost.