Zach’s strong quads smack against my thighs, and I’m reaching for something, anything to hold onto. Papers are falling off the desk, but I don’t care.

I’m groaning, overwhelmed with delight and Zach is so thick and full inside me. My eyes are almost closed when I notice a light on Zach’s phone over where it says intercom.

“Psst,” I whisper and point to the phone, saying, “is that thing on?”

Zach lunges forward, his hand slamming on the intercom button. It’s a strange feeling with him still inside me, but the light’s gone.

He falls back into his chair, laughing.

“Was that really on?” I ask. “Did you know it was?”

“No,” he says, trying to catch his breath. “I swear. I didn’t even notice it until you pointed it out.” He falls into laughter again, and it’s so contagious, I can’t help but join him.

“I don’t know how long it was on, do you?” I ask. “That could have been on the whole time.”

“Well,” Zach says, wiping his brow with the back of his forearm, “I guess that’s one way to announce I’m stepping down.”

“Yeah, I know, right?” I say. Then it clicks. “Wait, what did you say?”

* * *

If anyone heardus through the intercom, they were decent enough not to be outside the office when Zach and I finally came out. Headquarters sex sounded like such a great idea at the time.

It’s funny, back in that hotel room we didn’t leave for a week, the sex was great, but forgettable. I didn’t attach too much significance to it, other than it was something we both wanted.

Things are different now.

Zach’s been home the last few days, though, and it seems like he’s waiting to tell me something, only he hasn’t found the right time. I don’t want to go down that road again.

He’s sitting next to me on the couch, reading a book when I ask, “It’s not that I’m complaining, but aren’t you supposed to be at work trying to save your company?”

“I thought you knew,” he says.

“Knew what?” I ask.

“When I went to my office and found you in there, I thought—Nolan didn’t say anything?” he asks.

“After our last phone conversation, Nolan and I don’t talk all that much,” I answer. “What happened?”

“I had to give up the company,” he says. “There was no way around it.”

“That’s it?” she asks. “No last-minute strategy session with the lawyers or anything?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Someone from the board will step in as acting CEO—probably Mason Handler, but if they are going to install someone from the board, they’d do better with Geraldine Peña. She’s the CFO now, but she’s got the instincts. I thought you just didn’t bring it up because I haven’t said anything about it. The truth is, I’m still trying to wrap my head around it. I didn’t know you didn’t know. I’m sorry for that.”

“So what happened, though?” I ask. “Did you quit, did they fire you?”

“It was more of a legal agreement between consenting parties,” he says. “I had to transfer my stock, too, and it’s depreciated quite a bit. Are you going to be all right if I’m just really rich instead of ultra-rich?”

I rub my chin. “Yeah,” I answer. “I think I’ll stick around. You’re kind of a handful, but I’ll keep you for now.”

“Fair enough,” he says.

“You need to do something, though,” I tell him. “Even if it’s not your company anymore, you need to do something so you can live with what’s happening to the company.”

“I’m open to suggestions,” he says.

I have a few thoughts, but none of them are workable. We talk about it until we’re both spouting nonsense ideas just so we can say we’ve thought of everything. It only takes an hour to get there.