The other side of the bed was empty.
Cold.
That should’ve been a relief.
Instead, disappointment flared sharp and immediate, stealing her breath before she could stop it. Her chest tightened, and for a split second she had the absurd urge to roll toward the empty space, to reach out and confirm he was real, that last night hadn’t been a reckless fantasy she’d invented because she’d wanted him for toolong.
She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed the heel of her hand into the mattress.
No.
This wasn’t about whether she’d enjoyed it. That part was brutally obvious.
Her body still hummed, low heat pulsing between her thighs, aquiet, insistent reminder of exactly how thoroughly he’d taken her apart. The ache wasn’t painful. It was satisfied and wanting all at once, adangerous combination that made her breath hitch despite herself.
She rolled onto her side and buried her facein the pillow.
Bad idea.
His scent clung to the fabric. Clean. Masculine. Unmistakably Alaric. It wasn’t overpowering or careless. It was exact, like everything about him, aquiet claim rather than a shout. The familiarity of it slid under her skin and went straight to her bloodstream, dragging memory with it. His weight. His heat. The way he’d filled the space around her until she’d stopped noticing anythingelse.
The wave of need that followed was immediate and humiliatingly strong, curling low in her belly and tightening her thighs until she actually groaned, angered by how quickly her body answered him evennow.
She shoved herself upright, heart pounding.Get it together.This wasn’t some stranger’s bed. This wasn’t a nameless, consequence-free mistake she could quietly regret and movepast.
This was her boss.
No—worse.
Her boss’s boss.
Alaric Severin didn’t just sit at the top of her division. His name anchored the entire structure. His decisions shaped careers, redirected futures, erased people quietly and permanentlywhen necessary.
And she had slept withhim.
The stress of that settled hard andfast.
Sera swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, grounding herself in the simple reality of her feet on the floor. The room was quiet, immaculate. Her clothes were folded neatly on the chair near the window.
Folded.
That detail lodged somewhere deep under her ribs.He hadn’t treated last night like something careless. Or disposable. He hadn’t tossed her clothes aside in a haze of lust and forgotten them.He’d folded them.Which meant she couldn’t pretend it hadn’t mattered.
She dressed quickly, methodically, clinging to the familiar rituals of professionalism to secure herself. Underwear first, even though the fabric sliding against her skin brought a sharp flash of memory. His hands there. His mouth. The way he’d known exactly what to do without asking.
She fastened her skirt. Buttoned her blouse. Smoothed her hair back with efficient motions. Her hands shook just enough that she noticed.You knew better, she told herself firmly. And she did. That was the worst part.This hadn’t been ignorance or recklessness. This had been desire colliding withtiming and losing.
She could leave now. Slip out quietly. Avoid him entirely. Pretend this was something that happened in isolation, without aftermath.But running had never been in her nature.Avoidance created bigger problems. Silence festered. Unspoken things grew teeth.If she was going to end this, she was going to do it cleanly.
Sera squared her shoulders and went looking for him.She paused once at the doorway, hand braced against the frame, forcing herself to breathe. This was the moment she crossed from reaction into action. Whatever happened next would define how this night lived on inside her. As a secret. As a mistake. Or as a line she’d crossed and then consciously stepped backfrom.
She wasn’t a girl waking up in a stranger’s bed, scrambling for excuses. She was a professional woman who understood power structures, optics, and consequences.And she was about to face the man who sat at the center of all ofthem.
She found Alaric in the kitchen.Barefoot. Shirtless. Calm in a way that was almost cruel.
Morning light spilled through the wide windows, pale and gleaming, striping the counters and floor in soft gold. It touched his shoulders and slid along his spine, catching on muscle and bone in a way thatmade her mouth go dry. He stood at the island as if this were any other morning, eggs hissing softly in a pan, coffee already poured into two mugs.As if he hadn’t had her pressed against this very counter in the middle of the night, breathless and undone.
Her body reacted before her mind could intervene. Heat bloomed instantly, deep and insistent, her thighs tightening as if pulled by memory alone. She locked her knees to keep from stepping closer.
