Chapter 7 After the Storm

The next morning, the office felt too bright.

The storm had broken overnight, leaving the sky washed clean. Sharp sunlight poured through the windows, catching the edges of everything-desks, monitors, the glossy marble floors. It was the kind of morning meant for fresh starts.

But Noah couldn't shake the weight of the night before.

He'd gone home with his lips still tingling and his pulse skipping like a drum. He hadn't even taken the subway. He walked twenty blocks through wet streets, head full of Ethan Voss-of the way he'd said, "This is dangerous," and the way he'd kissed him anyway.

Now, sitting at his desk just outside Ethan's office, Noah felt everything and nothing all at once. He'd barely slept. Every time he closed his eyes, he replayed that moment-Ethan's hand brushing his forehead, his voice soft and uncertain.

Noah had kissed men before. He'd even been in love once.

But this-this felt like playing with a lit match in a room full of fuel.

Because Ethan wasn't just a man.

He was his boss.

The CEO.

And no matter how electric that kiss had been, the fallout could be nuclear.

The elevator dinged. Ethan stepped out like nothing had happened.

He looked polished, impeccable as ever-black suit, navy tie, hair tamed, jaw set.

"Morning," he said, walking past Noah's desk without pause.

Noah blinked. "Uh. Morning."

No smile. No second glance. Just the rustle of a coat being hung and the click of an office door shutting behind him.

Noah stared at the door.

Well, that answers that.

They were back to business.

The hours crawled.

Noah typed, sorted, emailed, and rescheduled three meetings-half of which Ethan ended up cancelling. He barely spoke. Barely looked at Noah.

By noon, Noah had had enough.

He knocked once and stepped inside.

Ethan didn't look up from his computer. "Busy."

"I noticed."

Ethan's fingers stilled. "Is there something you need?"

Noah crossed his arms. "You can't just pretend last night didn't happen."

Ethan finally looked at him, his face unreadable. "I'm not pretending."

"You haven't said a single word to me all day."

"I've been working."

"No," Noah said. "You've been hiding."

Ethan's jaw twitched. "And what exactly do you want me to say?"

Noah took a step forward. "I want to know what it meant to you. Because it meant something to me."

A beat of silence.

Then Ethan stood. "It meant everything, Noah. That's the problem."

Noah blinked. "What?"

Ethan's voice dropped. "You're not just some guy. You work for me. You're smart. Capable. And I trust you with more than anyone else in this building."

"That sounds like a reason to not push me away."

Ethan walked around the desk, stopping inches from him. "It's not that simple."

"Yes, it is," Noah said. "We kissed. We both wanted it. And if we keep pretending it didn't happen, we're going to fall apart trying to keep the distance."

Ethan ran a hand through his hair-something Noah had never seen him do. "I've worked too hard to lose everything over a moment of weakness."

"That wasn't weakness."

"No?" Ethan asked. "What do you call it when the most disciplined man in Manhattan loses control in his office and kisses his assistant?"

"I call it honesty."

Ethan looked at him. Long. Quiet.

Then he said, softer, "What if it doesn't stop with one kiss?"

Noah felt his heart leap-and sink at the same time.

"Then we figure it out," he said.

"And if it ruins us?"

"Then it was worth the risk."

Ethan exhaled, closing the space between them.

"This can't happen here," he said.

"Then let's take it somewhere else."

The hours crawled.

Noah typed, sorted, emailed, and rescheduled three meetings-half of which Ethan ended up cancelling. He barely spoke. Barely looked at Noah.

By noon, Noah had had enough.

He knocked once and stepped inside.

Ethan didn't look up from his computer. "Busy."

"I noticed."

Ethan's fingers stilled. "Is there something you need?"

Noah crossed his arms. "You can't just pretend last night didn't happen."

Ethan finally looked at him, his face unreadable. "I'm not pretending."

"You haven't said a single word to me all day."

"I've been working."

"No," Noah said. "You've been hiding."

Ethan's jaw twitched. "And what exactly do you want me to say?"

Noah took a step forward. "I want to know what it meant to you. Because it meant something to me."

A beat of silence.

Then Ethan stood. "It meant everything, Noah. That's the problem."

Noah blinked. "What?"

Ethan's voice dropped. "You're not just some guy. You work for me. You're smart. Capable. And I trust you with more than anyone else in this building."

"That sounds like a reason to not push me away."

Ethan walked around the desk, stopping inches from him. "It's not that simple."

"Yes, it is," Noah said. "We kissed. We both wanted it. And if we keep pretending it didn't happen, we're going to fall apart trying to keep the distance."

Ethan ran a hand through his hair-something Noah had never seen him do. "I've worked too hard to lose everything over a moment of weakness."

"That wasn't weakness."

"No?" Ethan asked. "What do you call it when the most disciplined man in Manhattan loses control in his office and kisses his assistant?"

"I call it honesty."

Ethan looked at him. Long. Quiet.

Then he said, softer, "What if it doesn't stop with one kiss?"

Noah felt his heart leap-and sink at the same time.

"Then we figure it out," he said.

"And if it ruins us?"

"Then it was worth the risk."

Ethan exhaled, closing the space between them.

"This can't happen here," he said.

"Then let's take it somewhere else."

When they left the bar, the night air was cool and clear. The city glittered around them, full of possibility.

Ethan walked a little closer than usual, his hand brushing Noah's as they crossed the street.

They stopped near the subway entrance, neither of them moving.

"I'll call you tomorrow," Ethan said.

"You'll see me in the office tomorrow."

Ethan gave a small grin. "Then I'll text you tonight."

"You'd better."

They stood like that for a second too long-hovering, lingering.

And then Ethan leaned in and kissed him again. Slower this time. Deeper.

It was a promise.

Not of forever.

But of now.

Noah watched him walk away, heart thudding like a bassline.

He didn't know where this was going. Didn't know how it would end.

But for the first time in a long time, he was ready to find out.