Chapter 5 The Kiss That Shouldn't Have Happened

Emery's POV

I shouldn't have gone to his office.

The voice in my head was screaming it before I even knocked. Before I twisted the gleaming silver handle and stepped into that space that always felt too cold, too sharp, too full of him.

Landon Hart didn't look up right away. He was leaning back in his leather chair, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers to some unsolvable question. His jacket had been tossed over the arm of the chair. The sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up, exposing the veins in his forearms. Power lived in every line of him even when he was silent.

He finally looked down.

At me.

The intensity in his gaze pinned me to the spot.

"Something wrong, Miss Clarke?" His voice was calm, but his eyes those stormy gray eyes flashed with something else. Something I didn't know how to name.

"I finished reviewing the Bellington files. And I... I thought you'd want them now," I said, holding the folder out like a shield. My fingers were trembling. I hated that they trembled.

Landon stood.

He didn't reach for the folder.

He walked around his desk slowly, each step deliberate, predatory. My breath caught somewhere in my chest, just above the place where nerves tangled with something more dangerous.

"You stayed late," he said.

I nodded, forcing my voice to stay steady. "You said they were a priority."

"I did," he murmured. "But you didn't have to."

"I wanted to."

The silence stretched. Taut. Electric.

His gaze dropped to my mouth for a beat too long, then traveled up again. "You're shaking."

"No, I'm not." Lie. Weak, obvious lie.

He took one more step closer. Too close. His cologne was cedar and spice and smoke and sin. It curled around me, pulling me into something I had no training to resist.

"Do I scare you?" he asked, voice low, curious.

"No," I whispered. "You confuse me."

That stopped him.

For a beat, he looked almost... human.

"Good," he said at last. "I confuse myself around you too."

My heart slammed into my ribs so hard it hurt.

He shouldn't have said that. We shouldn't be standing this close. I shouldn't want the things I wanted when I looked at him like this.

But then his hand brushed my cheek.

A touch so soft I nearly gasped.

He tilted my chin with two fingers. "Emery."

My name on his lips was a threat and a promise.

And then he kissed me.

No warning. No build-up. Just heat and hunger crashing into me like a wave I couldn't stop. His mouth claimed mine, and I forgot who I was. Forgot where we were. My folder hit the floor, papers fanning out like a white flag.

It was wrong.

God, it was so wrong.

But it felt like oxygen after a lifetime of holding my breath.

His lips were warm, insistent, coaxing rather than demanding. He tasted like espresso and something darker. Something sinful. His hand slipped to the back of my neck, holding me in place like he was afraid I'd vanish.

I should've pulled away.

Instead, I leaned in.

Surrendered.

Until he suddenly broke the kiss.

Pulled back.

Like he'd been burned.

His chest was rising and falling, faster now. "That was a mistake."

I blinked, dizzy from the loss of his touch. "Right. Yes. Of course."

His jaw clenched, the muscle ticking. "It won't happen again."

I nodded quickly, even as something inside me cracked. "I understand."

He stepped away like distance could undo the electricity that had just arced between us.

I knelt to pick up the folder, fingers fumbling the papers. My knees felt weak, my skin still buzzing. The silence between us felt louder than anything else.

"You should go," he said finally.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he said then added, too quietly, "Just... don't look at me like that again."

Like what?

Like he was human?

Like I saw something more than the monster he tried to be?

I left without answering. My heels echoed down the marble hallway as I fled, cheeks flaming, lips tingling with the memory of his kiss.

The elevator doors closed behind me and I exhaled like I'd been underwater.

What the hell had just happened?

And why, even knowing it was dangerous... did I want it to happen again?

The next morning, a company-wide email lands in my inbox.

Subject: Staff Reassignment.

From: Office of the CEO.

"Effective immediately, Emery Clarke is no longer assigned to Executive Office duties."

I stare at the screen, heart plummeting.

Had he just fired me

Or was this his way of protecting me?