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He turns toward me and leans back against the desk, drawing me in until I’m standing between his legs, his hands coming up to frame my face with steady pressure that stills the restless edge running through me.

“Thalia,” he says, quieter now, my name carrying a weight that makes it hard to look away. “They already know we’re together,” he murmurs, his gaze fixed on mine. “And I’m not going to treat you like you’re just someone who works for me.”

I part my lips, ready to push back, to argue…

“You’re my fucking woman,” he snaps, his voice rough, each word placed with intention. “I’ll touch you wherever I want, however I want. I’ll talk to you when I want and how I want. I’ll fuck you here whenever and however I want.”

The intensity hits all at once, burning enough to throw me off balance, my body reacting before my mind catches up, but there’s nowhere to fall—not when I’m already held in place, anchored by the firm grip of his hands and the solid line of his body against mine.

“Jesus,” I breathe, the word slipping out without thought.

He laughs—softly, warm, unbothered, completely at ease with the effect he has—as he pulls me closer and wraps his arms around me like claiming me in the middle of his office is the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re embarrassed,” he chuckles, amusement threading through his voice. “You still get embarrassed in front of me.” A long, deliberate pause. “I’m the same man you’ve been having sex with for months, the one you beg to make you come, the one you touch…”

My hand flies to his mouth before he can go any further, cutting him off, but the only thing that does is deepen the sound of his laughter against my palm.

He keeps looking at me with open amusement, clearly enjoying every second of this.

“You’re my boss, Ethan,” I tell him, trying to make him understand, even though I can already see in his expression that it won’t change anything. “And I still can’t believe we’re actually together.”

He moves my hand away with ease, like it was never meant to stop him, and leans in, kissing me. Like every time, when his lips touch mine, the rest of the world disappears—noise, tension, the entire office into nothing as if it never existed.

Seven days.

Seven days since his post, and the storm around us hasn’t died down, hasn’t even slowed. People are still watching, still waiting—for another move, another statement, another sign that this is real.

We can’t go anywhere without being followed. Cameras, questions, whispers.

The moment Ethan got back to London, he was swarmed— paparazzi closing in the second he went out to dinner with Colt and a few business partners.

There isn’t a single person who hasn’t seen it by now.

“I don’t want anyone thinking I’m treated differently here just because I’m with you,” I say, calmer this time, but firm.

“You are treated differently, and you always will be, Thalia,” he replies without hesitation.

His hands remain steady on me, grounding, unmovable.

“Zayn will continue overseeing the event company’s performance, and decisions will go through him,” he adds, calm, already laying out the structure like this is non-negotiable. “But no one will ever treat you like just another employee.”

“But Ethan…”

“No.”

The way he cuts me off leaves me unable to push any further.

His gaze locks onto mine, intense, unwavering.

“You can’t expect anything else from me,” he says, his tone low but final. “You’re in a relationship with me. I want us to be equals—at home and at work. This discussion is over.”

And just like that, it is.

And the truth washes over me as quickly.

Since we’ve been together, he hasn’t once made me feel smaller.

Not once made me feel like I owe him.