“Don’t apologize.” He moves closer to examine a sketch of the rooftop garden. “These are incredible, Thatcher. The detail, the way you capture so much in simple lines…”
Heat creeps up my neck. “They’re just doodles.”
“They’re not.” His voice is firm. “This is real talent.”
The words hit differently than they usually do when people compliment my art. Maybe because Pierce doesn’t give empty praise, or maybe because after my father’s dismissal, I needed to hear them from someone who matters.
“Why did you leave early?” he asks, turning to face me. “Was it because of what happened between us?”
I shake my head. “My father called. Wanted to meet up.” The words taste bitter. “I thought I’d go back after lunch, but…after another lecture about my life choices disguised as career advice, I just…couldn’t.”
Pierce’s expression softens with understanding. “I know all about family expectations.”
“Look at us. Both withperfectyounger brothers who seem to do everything right.” I sink onto the couch, suddenly exhausted. “My father thinks working at VSE is just anothertemporary distraction. That I’m wasting my time ‘playing assistant’ when I could be doing something better.”
Pierce sits beside me, close enough that I can smell his cologne mixed with shower soap. “For what it’s worth, you’re the best assistant I’ve ever had. And I’ve had several.”
“Even with all the disasters?”
“Especially with the disasters.” A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You make everything more interesting.”
The way he’s looking at me makes heat pool in my stomach. “Pierce…”
“Thatcher.” His hand finds mine, fingers intertwining like that’s what they’re supposed to do, but then, as if he remembers himself, he lets go. “About what happened on the roof.”
“Pierce—”
“And last night. Even in the bathroom before that. I need to apologi?—”
“Pierce,” I interrupt, but he shakes his head.
“Please, let me say this. I’m your boss. The power dynamics between us are complicated. What I did, pulling you up there without asking, letting my need for you overcome… It wasn’t right.”
The guilt in his voice makes my chest ache. “Is that what you think happened? That you somehow took advantage of me?”
“Didn’t I?” His eyes meet mine with painful honesty. “I’m the CFO, the person who signs your paychecks. How can you be sure you weren’t influenced by that dynamic?”
A laugh escapes before I can stop it. “Pierce, have you met me? When have I ever let professional hierarchy stop me from doing anything I wanted?”
“But…”
“No buts.” I reach up to cup his face, forcing him tomaintain eye contact. “I wanted you long before you became my boss. Have wanted you since that wedding, since watching you try to maintain control while I did my best to make you lose it completely.”
His breath catches. “Thatcher…”
“Everything that’s happened between us has been completely consensual,” I continue. “If anything, I’ve been the aggressor. The sticky notes, finding excuses to touch you, trying to make you smile and get your attention.”
Before I think too hard about what I’m doing, I move to straddle his legs. His hands move to my waist immediately, and my dick reacts to the feel of his strong hands on me.
“What if…? What if I want you to take advantage of me?”
The words hang between us until he lets out a long breath like he’s giving in to a force he’s tired of fighting.
“Why can’t I stop wanting you?”
“I could ask the same question.” I trace the line of his eyebrow. “Don’t you believe me? Don’t you believe that I want to kiss you, fuck you, just be with you?”
“We shouldn’t…”
