“Pierce, what—” he starts, but I silence him with a desperate and needy kiss. I press closer, making him gasp into my mouth.
Every point of contact between us feels like it’s on fire. Thatcher’s fingers find my hair, pulling me deeper into the kiss, his other hand gripping my shoulder like an anchor.
“Pierce,” he manages between kisses, his voice breathless. “Anyone could come up here…”
“I need you,” I growl, surprising myself with the raw honesty in my voice. My mouth finds his neck, tasting skin that carries traces of cologne but to me only smells like Thatcher. His head falls back against the door, exposing more throat for my attention as my hands fumble with his belt.
The afternoon light makes everything vivid and real. I drop to my knees without conscious thought, my need for him too overwhelming for any level of careful consideration.
“Wait,” Thatcher gasps as I reach for his zipper.
The word cuts through my haze of want like a bucket of cold water. I freeze, suddenly aware of where we are, what I’m doing. The open roof, the unlocked door, and the fact that anyone could walk up those stairs at any moment. The fact that I’m his boss, that I pulled him up here without asking, that I’m on my knees in broad daylight, ready to?—
Christ. What am I doing?
I pull back immediately, scrambling to my feet and putting distance between us. “I’m sorry,” I say, my voice rough and unsteady. “This is… We can’t do this. I’m so sorry.”
Thatcher’s breathing is still uneven, his lips swollen from our kisses, but he nods.
“I shouldn’t have—” I start, but he shakes his head.
“It’s fine, Pierce. We both got carried away.” He runs a hand through his hair, trying to smooth it back into place. “I should get back to my desk.”
The new distance in his voice makes my chest ache, but I nod. “Of course.”
We take the stairs down separately, Thatcher heading toward his desk and me in the direction of Lior’s office, guilt and frustration warring in my gut with every step.
One crisis at a time. Right now, James’s threat demandsmore immediate attention than my crumbling professional boundaries.
Lior stands by the window when I enter his office, tension visible in the set of his shoulders.
“Sit,” he says, though he remains standing. His voice carries the authority I know well from boardrooms, from times when our relationship was simpler, if not easier. “Tell me what the fuck that was about.”
I settle into one of his visitor chairs. “He’s been systematically targeting our distribution partners,” I admit, watching Lior’s reflection in the window rather than meeting his eyes directly. “Offering them deals we can’t match. We’ve already lost Sunside Industries, Patterson Logistics, and Coastal Distribution.”
“How long has this been going on?” Lior turns, finally, his expression unreadable.
“A few weeks,” I reply, guilt making my voice rougher than intended. “I thought I could handle it internally. Keep it from becoming your problem.”
“Dammit, Pierce!” The words explode with unexpected force, making me flinch. “After everything we’ve been through.”
“There’s more,” I say, taking a breath. “James has been getting inside information. Partnership renewal dates, negotiation strategies, confidential board discussions.”
Lior’s expression sharpens. “A leak.”
“And it could be anyone on the board. Or at least any of the ones who weren’t happy when you took over the company.”
Lior moves to his desk. “Well, now we know. And now we can use it against them.”
“What do you mean?”
His smile carries a razor’s edge. “We feed them falseinformation. Let James think he’s winning while we secure our real partnerships behind the scenes. When he makes his final move based on bad intel, we’ll be ready.”
The strategy is elegant in its simplicity. “You want to turn the leak into our unwitting double agent.”
“Exactly. But, Pierce, this stays between us. No one else can know, not even…” He pauses, studying my face. “Are you all right? You look like you’re about to crawl out of your skin.”
The question catches me off guard, and suddenly, all the guilt and confusion about Thatcher come rushing back. “I’m fine. Just processing everything.”
