Page 48 of Sexting the Billionaire

"Sorry," I perch on a barstool at the counter, enjoying this bizarre alternate universe where Roman Kade cooks breakfast while I wear his shirt. "It's just hard to imagine you doing anything so... ordinary."

"I'm still human, despite what the business press might report." He cracks eggs with practiced efficiency. "Though if you tell anyone at Elysian that I make my own breakfast, I might have to fire you."

"Ah, there's the threatening boss I know," I tease, and am rewarded with a genuine laugh that transforms his face. I want to hear that laugh from him again. More than is prudent to admit.

I watch in fascination as Roman navigates his kitchen with unexpected ease, whisking eggs, chopping vegetables, and operating what appears to be a professional-grade espresso machine.

There's something strangely intimate about watching him perform this mundane task—more intimate, somehow, than sex. This isn't CEO Roman or even Seductive Text Roman. This is just... Roman.

"So," he says casually, his back to me as he works. "About last night."

And there it is. The morning-after conversation I've been simultaneously dreading and hoping for.

"Yes, about that," I say, aiming for nonchalance and probably missing by a mile. "Pretty sure that qualifies as several HR violations."

"At minimum," he agrees, sliding a perfectly prepared omelet onto a plate. "Possibly some ethical breaches as well."

"Not to mention terrible judgment on my part," I add, accepting the plate he hands me. "Sleeping with my boss is literally in chapter one of 'Career Mistakes to Avoid.'"

"And pursuing an employee is in the CEO handbook under 'Fireable Offenses,'" he counters, leaning against the counter across from me.

We look at each other for a moment, the absurdity of our situation hanging between us.

"So what now?" I finally ask. "Do we pretend it never happened? Because I have to warn you, that might be difficult considering I now know exactly what that little muscle in your jaw does when you?—"

"I don't want to pretend it never happened," he interrupts, his voice low and serious. "But I also don't want to jeopardize your career or my company."

I take a bite of the omelet to buy myself time to think. It's annoyingly delicious, because of course Roman Kade excels at everything he attempts.

"We need boundaries," I say finally. "Clear, professional boundaries."

"Agreed." He nods, looking relieved that I'm being practical. "At work, nothing changes. I'm your boss, you're Lumière's Creative Director."

"And after hours?" I ask, the question hanging in the air between us.

His eyes meet mine across the counter. "That depends. What do you want, Cassie?"

It's such a simple question, but the answer is anything but. What do I want? Career success. Professional respect. Not to be gossip fodder for the entire fashion industry. But also... him. The version of him that texts me late at night. The one that kissed me on that terrace. The man that is currently making me breakfast in his penthouse.

"I want..." I start, then stop, reformulating. "I don't want this to be Camden 2.0. I don't want to make myself smaller for a man again, even one as compelling as you."

Something flashes in his eyes—respect, maybe. "I would never ask you to be smaller, Cassie. Your fire is what drew me to you in the first place."

"But any relationship between us would be fundamentally unequal," I point out. "You're my boss. You have power over my career."

"True," he acknowledges. "Which is why this is probably a terrible idea."

"Probably," I agree, even as my body leans slightly toward him of its own accord.

Roman sets down his coffee mug with a decisive click. "So here's my proposal: at work, we're strictly professional. No special treatment, no favoritism. Your success or failure at Elysian depends entirely on your talent."

"And outside of work?"

A slow smile spreads across his face. "Outside of work, we explore... whatever this is. Discretely. No one at Elysian finds out."

"A secret relationship," I say skeptically. "Because those always end well."

"Not a relationship," he clarifies quickly. "An... arrangement. With an expiration date if needed."

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