Chapter 4 The slip

It had been five days since Nathaniel Vetrova told Alfreda he'd be waiting.

And she hated how much she'd been thinking about it. About him.

She was too smart for this-too ambitious to get tangled up with a man like him. But every time she walked into the building and saw his reflection in the glass walls or caught his scent in the hallway, her resolve cracked a little more.

Tonight, it finally snapped.

Alfreda had stayed late, again. She told herself it was for work, but deep down, she knew the real reason. She was testing herself. Or maybe she was waiting for him.

It was nearly 9 p.m. when she stepped into the private lounge outside his office, empty but for the glow of city lights bleeding through the windows.

Then she heard it-his voice.

"Couldn't stay away, could you?"

She turned slowly.

Nathaniel stood in the doorway of his private office, sleeves rolled up, black shirt unbuttoned just enough to hint at the body beneath. He looked like sin incarnate-relaxed, confident, and entirely too dangerous.

"I'm here for the final numbers," she said, holding up a file. "You asked for them."

He crossed the space between them with slow, deliberate steps. "I asked for them hours ago."

"You were in a meeting," she countered, steadying herself. "Besides, I thought you liked a challenge."

His smirk deepened. "I do. Especially when it wears red lipstick and heels."

"Nathaniel-"

"Don't say my name like that unless you want me to touch you."

Her breath hitched.

He stopped a breath away, his voice low and quiet, but laced with the kind of heat that made her knees feel like they weren't hers. "Tell me to back off, Alfreda. Tell me to stop."

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

His hand slid up her arm, slow and smooth, fingers curling lightly against her elbow. "You don't have to pretend. I know you feel it too. Every time I walk by, you hold your breath. Every time I look at you, your eyes linger a second too long."

She should've stopped him. She knew better. But instead, she leaned in-barely, just enough.

Nathaniel caught it. His hand slid to her waist, pulling her gently but firmly against him.

"I won't do anything you don't want," he murmured. "But if you say yes... I'm not holding back."

Alfreda's head spun. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. She was strong, controlled. She didn't blur lines.

But God, his mouth was close.

"Nathaniel," she whispered, breathless. "We can't-"

He kissed her.

It wasn't soft. It wasn't sweet. It was demanding. Possessive. Like he'd been waiting years for this moment.

And she let him.

Her hands found his chest, not to push him away, but to hold on. His fingers gripped her hips, drawing her tighter until their bodies were pressed like puzzle pieces. She tasted danger in his mouth. She tasted surrender in her own.

When he finally pulled back, they were both breathless, lips red and swollen.

"I've never done this," she whispered.

"What? Kissed a man?"

"Kissed someone I can't have."

His gaze darkened. "You already do have me."

"No," she said, stepping back, forcing herself to breathe again. "This... can't become a distraction."

Nathaniel's jaw flexed. "It doesn't have to be. It can be whatever we make it."

Alfreda shook her head. "You don't get to rewrite rules just because you want something."

He took a step toward her again, but she held up her hand. "I need to think."

His eyes lingered on her. "Take all the time you want, Alfreda. But don't lie to yourself about what this is. About what we are."

She turned and left before she did something reckless-again.

But long after she was gone, Nathaniel stayed in that room, staring out at the city, fists clenched at his sides.

Because she wasn't just a distraction.

She was the only thing that ever made him lose control.

And that terrified him more than anything.