Page 61 of Silver Fox's Christmas Scandal
I closed my mouth and returned to taking notes, my cheeks burning with humiliation.
Daniel launched into the exact recommendations I'd been prepared to offer, citing data I'd compiled for him but couldn't claim. I watched Lucian nod approvingly at insights that were mine, delivered by someone else, because acknowledging my competence had become too dangerous for both of us.
The worst part was understanding his position. He was protecting my reputation, shielding me from accusations of sleeping my way into influence.
But the protection felt indistinguishable from erasure. I was back to being furniture in meetings where I'd once been a contributor, invisible in a company where I'd started to build real professional credibility.
After the clients left, Lucian gathered his materials without meeting my eyes. "Tessa, please coordinate with Daniel onthe follow-up documentation. He'll handle the implementation timeline."
"Of course, Mr. Cross."
The formality in my own voice made my chest ache. We were strangers again, boss and assistant, nothing more complex than a professional relationship bounded by clear hierarchies.
The intimacy we'd shared felt like a fever dream, too impossible to have been real.
I spent the rest of the afternoon coordinating Mr. Mercer's schedule and pretending I didn't notice how the other assistants had started treating me differently.
The respect I'd earned had evaporated along with Lucian's visible support. I was just another secretary again, useful for scheduling and note-taking but not worth including in substantive conversations.
By seven o'clock, I was home in my apartment, changed into pajamas and eating ice cream straight from the container while my laptop displayed fertility clinic websites.
The irony wasn't lost on me—researching how to create a family while mourning any chance of love with the man I'd fallen for completely.
I was reading testimonials from single mothers who'd used donor sperm when my doorbell rang. Mochi looked up from his spot on the windowsill, tail twitching with mild interest, but didn't bother investigating.
I considered ignoring whoever it was—I wasn't expecting anyone, and my emotional state couldn't handle small talk with neighbors.
The bell rang again, followed by a familiar voice. "Tessa, it's me."
My stomach did a somersault as I set aside the ice cream and went to the door.
Through the peephole, I could see him standing in the hallway, his usually perfect appearance disheveled.
His tie was loosened, his hair messed from running his hands through it, and exhaustion lined his face.
I opened the door, acutely aware of my pajama pants and oversized sweater, my hair pulled into a messy bun. "What are you doing here?" I asked as I stepped backward.
"I couldn't stay away anymore." He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, and I caught the faint smell of whiskey on his breath. "This distance—it's killing me."
I felt so conflicted. I'd spent a month trying to root him out of my heart and he just showed up here?
"You said we needed to be discreet."
"I said a lot of things. Most of them were lies I told myself to justify doing what everyone else wanted instead of what I wanted." He looked around my small apartment, taking in the fertility clinic website still open on my laptop screen.
But his eyes didn't linger there long. He reached past me and shut the door, then turned the deadbolt.
"What are you doing?" I asked, him feeling breathless.
"This," he said, grabbing my face in both of his hands. He crushed his lips against mine, and I sucked in a breath of shock.
It was an explosion of sensations and emotions all at once and I almost pushed him away. Almost.
"Luci," I breathed, when he let me, but it didn’t last long.
"I need you, woman. I'm a fool. Don’t tell me to leave because I don’t have the self-control to stay away from you any longer."
His kiss was hungry and bold, and I didn't want to tell him to leave.
