PART 4:

So, I went to check the office and you were gone. But your desk was too neat, too organized, like you’d stayed to finish something. He turned back to me and I saw something raw in his expression. I asked Marcus when you left, he said hours ago, but something felt wrong. So, I checked the security footage. His hands clenched into fists.

I watched you leave. Watched you try to get a car. Watched you walk into a blizzard in a coat that couldn’t protect a child, let alone. His voice cracked and he looked away. I’ve never moved so fast in my life. Never been so terrified. And when I found you collapsed in that snow drift, when I thought I might have been too late, he shook his head.

I wanted to burn the whole city down for not taking care of you. I set down my tea with shaking hands. Why? Why? What? Why do you care? The question came out smaller than I intended. I’m just your secretary. I’m no one. Christian crossed the distance between us in two strides, crouched in front of my chair, his hands gripping the armrests on either side of me, caging me in.

Up close, I could see flexcks of gold in his dark eyes. could feel the heat radiating from his body. Could smell that intoxicating scent of him that made my head spin. “You’re not no one,” he said, his voice rough. “You’re not just my secretary. You’re the first person I think about when I wake up and the last person I think about before I sleep.

You’re the reason I come into the office even when I don’t need to. You’re the one person in my life who isn’t afraid of me, who tells me the truth, who makes me want to be. He stopped, seemed to catch himself, but he didn’t move away. Want to be what? I breathed. Better, he finished quietly. You make me want to be better, Olivia.

The countdown started somewhere in the distance. Faint at first, then growing louder. 10 9 8 Christian I whispered, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might break through my ribs. Seven 6 5 I almost lost you tonight, he said, his eyes searching mine. I almost lost you and I realized I couldn’t. I can’t. Not you. 4 3 2 What are you saying? I’m saying that I see you, Olivia Knox.

I’ve always seen you, and I’m tired of pretending I don’t one. Outside, the city exploded. Fireworks painted the sky. Cheers erupted from every building. The world celebrated the new year with champagne and kisses and joy. But in Christian Lombardo’s bedroom, time stopped. There was only his face inches from mine, his eyes dark with something that looked like hunger, his breath mingling with mine in the space between us.

“Happy New Year, Olivia,” he whispered, and then he kissed me. Christian Lombardo kissed like he did everything else, with complete and utter control, taking what he wanted while somehow making me feel like I was the one with all the power. His lips were soft against mine, gentle in a way I never expected from a man who commanded empires with a look.

But there was an edge of desperation underneath, like he’d been holding back for so long that now that the dam had broken, he wasn’t sure he could stop. I didn’t want him to stop. My hands found his shoulders, felt the solid muscle beneath the soft fabric of his shirt, and I pulled him closer. Even though he was already as close as physics would allow, he made a sound low in his throat.

Something between a groan and a growl, and his hands came up to frame my face, tilting my head to deepen the kiss. The fireworks outside had nothing on what was happening inside me. Every nerve ending was on fire. Every coherent thought burned away by the feeling of his mouth on mine. his taste, his warmth seeping into all the cold places I’d been carrying around for so long.

When he finally pulled back, we were both breathing hard, his forehead resting against mine, his eyes closed like he was trying to memorize this moment. I’ve wanted to do that for 2 years, he said, his voice rough. Every single day, watching you in my office, so competent and untouchable. I wanted to pull you into my lap and kiss you until you forgot your own name.

I couldn’t form words, could barely form thoughts. Christian Lombardo had been thinking about me, wanting me while I’d been trying to make myself invisible. He’d been seeing me all along. Say something, he whispered, his thumb brushing across my cheekbone. Tell me I didn’t just make the biggest mistake of my life.

You didn’t, I managed, my voice coming out breathless. You really didn’t. His smile transformed his face, softening all those hard edges, making him look younger, almost boyish. It lasted maybe 3 seconds before his phone started buzzing insistently in his pocket. He ignored it. It kept buzzing. He growled something in Italian that I was pretty sure wasn’t polite and finally pulled it out, his other hand still cupping my face like he was afraid I’d disappear if he let go completely.

What? He barked into the phone. Then his expression changed, went cold and dangerous. I’ll be right there. He ended the call, his jaw tight with frustration. When he looked at me, I saw genuine regret in his eyes. There’s a situation with one of my vendors. I have to handle it personally. It’s okay, I said, even though I wanted to grab his shirt and demand he stay.

I understand. No, it’s not okay. He stood, ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up in a way that shouldn’t have been attractive, but absolutely was. I don’t want to leave you. Not tonight. Not after. He gestured between us at the space where everything had shifted, where the careful, professional distance we’d maintained for 2 years had shattered into something I couldn’t name yet.

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