Something feels off. The energy is frenzied, almost panicked, and I can’t shake the sense that I walked into the middle of a storm no one warned me about.
I pass Melanie’s desk and nearly roll my eyes. She’s drowning in a mountain of paperwork, one hand gripping the phone, the other flipping through files like her life depends on it. She’s flailing, barely keeping up, and I can’t help but think it’s karma for all the times she half-assed her job and left everyone else to pick up the slack so she could pretend to talk to her imaginary boyfriend. Maybe if she got it right the first time, she wouldn’t be stuck trying to salvage the mess now.
I’m also a little too tipsy to be here, so confronting my boss at his place of work is probably a bad idea. Actually, it’s a really fucking stupid idea. The wine sloshing around inside of me doesn’t seem to care, though, and I’m already here.
“Oh, thank heavens, Lety, you’re back!” Melanie disconnects her call, pushing out of her chair. She charges over to me like she’s about to hug me, but we ain’t cool like that, so I side-step her.
“Not for long. Where’s César?” I ask, noticing a slight slur to my words.
Clearly Melanie does too and raises a razor-thin eyebrow. “You mean, Mr. Estrada? I assume he’s in his office. I think he’s in a meeting—Hey, wait! You shouldn’t interrupt him!”
I leave Melanie standing alone at her desk, calling after me. The others in the office curiously glance up as I pass. This isn’t like me. I don’t make waves at work, and from my walk and speech, it’s clear I’ve been a little too generous on the wine. I’ll come to regret this later. Maybe. But right now, I have a one-track mind.
I stab the elevator button with my finger repeatedly until the doors finally open. I all but barrel past the people exiting before pressing César’s floor. With excruciating slowness, the elevator doors close, and I ascend. This would be a good time for me to think of what exactly I’m going to say to César when I see him, but the ride is too short. Soon, the elevator dings and the doors open onto his floor.
It’s quiet here, only the soft clacks of the keyboard and the urgent taps of my heels against the tile floor ring out. Gracie looks up from the computer as I pass her, but she’s on the phone and only gives me a confused look. For now, I ignore it as I beeline for César’s office. The door is closed, and I test the knob.
Not locked. Good.
I push the door open—with far more force than necessary—and it hits the wall with a loud bang. César’s head shoots up, lips pursed as I barge in unceremoniously. “We need to talk.” This time, I’m certain my words are slurred. I am also seeing double of him, which probably means I’m too drunk for this shit.
“I’ll have to call you back,” César says into the phone, pressing a button before ending the call. My cheeks flush at the realization he had been in the middle of a meeting. He continues to eye me, and I try not to wilt under his scrutiny. “Lety. I wasn’t expecting you.”
I wasn’t expecting to be here, but since I am, I slam the door behind me, making sure it clicks shut before storming further into the room.
“You kissed me!” I blurt out, skipping any kind of greeting or buildup. No small talk, no warm-up. Just straight to the damn point. My voice echoes a little too loud, fueled by the wine still buzzing in my system. It’s the only thing I can think to say—raw and unfiltered, the truth spilling out before I can second-guess it.
“I did.” There’s no emotion in his voice. Sterile. Giving nothing away.
“You said you wanted me.”
“I did that, too, mi reina.”
“Don’t call me that,” I snap, but my body betrays me, growing hot at the nickname. I like it too much to pretend I don’t.
César notices. Of course this asshole does. His perfect lips snake up into a smirk as he pushes himself from his chair. He closes this distance between us in a few strides. I back up to try to put some distance between us, but my back connects to the wall. I’m back where this all started again, and he effectively cages me. His muscular body pins me in place, and every nerve on my body stands on end.
Fuck this man.
César leans down, and I’m consumed by the smell of him. “You’ve been ignoring me, Lety.”
I open my mouth to deny it, but nothing comes out. He’s right, and the bastard knows it.
“You leave for a week. Everyone showed their incompetence while you’re gone. I don’t pay you enough for what you do.”
I scoff. “You really want to talk about my pay, now?” I pause before adding, “But you’re right. I need a raise.”
“Done.” The word barely leaves his mouth before he leans in. He’s nearly as close as he was that night at his house—too close, and yet not close enough.
His lips hover a breath away from mine, and my body leans toward him instinctively, pulled by something unseen, something undeniably him. A brujo spell. My lips tingle with anticipation, a phantom memory of how his kiss once felt—soft, demanding, unforgettable. I crave to experience that again.
“I don’t know what to say to you.” I’m regretting the second glass of chardonnay, unable to think clearly. That could also be with the close proximity of his body and the way I crave to feel his lips and hands on me. I’m a horny mess and had no business barging in under these circumstances.
“Then maybe we don’t talk.” César’s gaze drops to my mouth. My tongue slips out to wet my suddenly dry lips, and something shifts in his eyes, darkening with heat. His hand lifts, fingers brushing my cheek before settling against the side of my face. His thumb grazes my bottom lip, slow and deliberate, like he’s memorizing the shape of it.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about that damn kiss,” he murmurs, voice low and rough. “Not since the night you walked out and left me hard and alone.”
My face heats. “You scared me, César.”
