I don't knock.
The door swings open and I step inside, already forming the words?—
Kristen sits on the floor. Back against the wall. Knees pulled to her chest. Her head snaps up at my entrance, and I see it.
Tears.
Streaming down her face. Eyes red-rimmed and swollen. Cheeks blotchy. She looks wrecked. Destroyed. Beautiful.
The thought hits me like a fist to the sternum.
How can a crying woman be so fucking beautiful?
And right behind that thought comes another, darker one: I did this. I made her cry.
"Get out." Her voice cracks on the words. "Nico, I swear to God, just—get out."
I close the door instead.
"I said get out."
"I heard you."
Three steps bring me across the room. I lower myself to my knees in front of her, and she flinches like I've raised a hand to strike her. The movement sends another crack through whatever's left of my composure.
She's afraid of me.
Good. She should be.
No. Not good. Not fucking good at all.
My hand moves before my brain catches up. Fingers brush against her cheek, catching the tears there. Her skin is soft. Warm. Damp with salt.
She freezes.
"What are you doing?" The words come out breathless. Confused.
"I don't know."
It's the most honest thing I've said in years.
My thumb traces the curve of her cheekbone, wiping away another tear. She doesn't pull away. Doesn't lean in either. Just watches me.
"What do you want, Nico?" The question comes out sharper now. Angry. "Why do you keep doing this? Why do you act like you're more than just my boss?"
The question hangs between us.
I should give her some bullshit about protecting family assets. About debts and obligations and the business arrangement that brought her into our world.
But the words that come out aren't any of those things.
"Because I don't know how to be just your boss." My voice drops low. Rough. "Because every time I try to put you in a boxyou break out of it. Because I've spent thirty years watching men in my world destroy themselves over women, and I swore I'd never be that stupid."
Her breath catches.
"And then you walked into my life. And now—" I lean closer. Close enough to count her eyelashes. "—now I can't stop thinking about you. Can't stop watching you. Can't stop wanting things I have no right to want."
"Why are you here?"
