Brandon's POV:

A knot formed in my throat as I traced my tongue along my bottom lip. Emma let out a soft, involuntary moan the moment she tasted the chicken.

"Wow, this is incredible," she said, meeting my gaze.

"I appreciate that," I replied, giving her a small smile.

Even as she spoke, my attention wandered. That lingering sound she made kept replaying in my mind. There was an unexpected sexiness to it—almost too intimate, even though she likely hadn't meant anything by it. I couldn't quite explain why my mind kept drifting in that direction.

For over two years, we had shared countless hours at work. I'd always known she was lovely and easy to get along with, but nothing ever sparked like this before. Suddenly, desire crept in, catching me off guard. Maybe being single has made me notice things I ignored in the past. Back when Darcy and I were together, I never let my eyes wander. Especially not toward Emma, who always kept things strictly professional.

Nobody else could catch my attention. My focus was entirely on Darcy, nobody else mattered.

"Brandon, is something bothering you?" she asked, bringing me back to reality.

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that, Emma?" I replied, biting my tongue before I called her something else by mistake.

"I just wanted to say the food's fantastic. You really know your way around a kitchen," she said with a smile.

"I mean it, thank you. Feels strange getting back in the groove. Honestly, it's been ages since I cooked for anyone. Back when I was with Darcy, cooking was something I loved doing for her. At first, she appreciated it, but as our relationship fell apart, it was like nothing I did in the kitchen could please her. She started coming up with reasons to avoid dinner, or she'd pick apart every meal. Looking back, maybe I should've seen it coming," I said, letting out a sigh and sinking further into the chair. "A few months before she finally left, she seemed determined to tear down whatever confidence I had left—especially when it came to the bedroom or the kitchen. She used to love it when we made love or had spontaneous, passionate sex. She'd complain about everything, said I was boring, claimed I'd lost my spark. For a while, I actually believed her. Then, when I started seeing other people, things shifted. The women I was with never seemed to mind what I brought to the table. Funny enough, Darcy even came back for more more than once. That did a lot to restore some faith in myself. To be honest, Darcy even showed up a few times wanting to hook up, which made me realize maybe I hadn't lost it after all. But this dinner tonight? This is the first time I've cooked for anyone since her."

"She doesn't know what she's talking about, honestly. You shouldn't let her words get to you," Emma said, shaking her head.

"I get that now. Still, it creeps up on me sometimes. Back then, I just took it all in and let it mess with my head," I admitted.

"It's the worst, isn't it? When the person you love—someone who's supposed to care about you—spends their energy making you feel like you're never good enough," she said, her words gentle.

Something about the way she spoke made me wonder if she was speaking from her own experience.

"Has this ever happened to you?" I asked, curiosity edging into my voice.

"Yeah. I dated someone for a year who made my life miserable. He was cruel, always putting me down, and it escalated until he hit me. That was it for me. I cut him off after that and never looked back," Emma said.

"That takes guts to walk away. Guys like that are just pathetic. I'm relieved you got out when you did."

"I am too, honestly. But let's talk about something else. How did you learn to cook like this?"

"Dad was the one who taught me. He was an excellent cook. Every recipe he mastered, he made sure I learned it too. He passed away three years ago, and I still think about him every day," I said, a heaviness settling in my chest. I still miss him every day.

"Dad warned me about Darcy more than once. He believed I deserved better, but he understood how much I cared for her. Maybe I should've taken his advice, but he never tried to stop me from following my heart."

"That's heartbreaking. I'm sorry for your loss," Emma responded.

"Thanks. He really was the best. But Emma, you've been part of my team for over two years, and I barely know a thing about your story," I said.

Curiosity kept tugging at me, making me want to know more about her. Emma had this quiet way of making you feel heard. Opening up felt easy when she was nearby. Whenever I needed to let off steam or deliver a speech meant for no one in particular, she always stuck around, listening. Lately, the weight I carried felt different—heavier and more tangled—yet she never turned away.

"It's not really your responsibility to know my story, Brandon. But getting to know you? That's definitely my responsibility." A quick smile played on her lips.

"Maybe so, but I'd like to know you for real. Spending time like this, away from the office, feels good. Let's finish dinner, pour ourselves some wine, and see where the conversation takes us." I smiled at her, hoping she'd be on board.

"Sure, if you want. There's not a lot to tell, honestly." She gave a half-shrug.

"Something tells me there's a lot you're not saying, Emma." A smirk tugged at my lips.

There was something about her that hinted at a deeper story.

"If you say so. Now be quiet, I'm eating." She rolled her eyes, laughing as she stuck out her tongue. "

"Whatever you say," I replied, doing as she asked. She laughed again, and the air lightened as we went back to our meal.

Watching her savor each bite brought a smile to my face. But every little sound of pleasure she made was starting to drive me a bit wild.

Pushing away distracting thoughts, I focused on my meal. Maybe if we finished eating quickly, I'd have a chance to calm myself down and stop feeling her every little reaction deep in my gut.

"That was incredible!" she exclaimed, setting her silverware aside with a satisfied sigh.

"It means a lot that you enjoyed it. But, fair warning—you're on dish duty now," I teased, flashing her a grin.

"Okay." She shot me a playful smile, scooping up the dirty plates and making her way to the sink.

"Emma, I was joking." I laughed, following behind her.

"After a meal like that? Washing up is the least I can do."

"I'm not letting you wash everything," I responded.

Emma ignored me, determined to start scrubbing. Typical—she could be so stubborn.

Ignoring my protests, she turned on the faucet and started scrubbing away. I stepped behind her, reaching for the dish towel, just to tease.

"Nope! Hands off!" Her hand shot out to swat mine away.

"Emma, you know there's a dishwasher, right?" I couldn't hold back a laugh.

"I'm not bothered. Now go on, let me take care of this," she said, glancing over her shoulder at me.

Her words made me grin.

Taking her time, she finally turned around, ending up wedged between me and the sink. The gap between us shrank to nothing. She didn't seem fazed by how close we were, but I felt every inch of distance disappear, a sharp longing building inside me. She peered up at me from beneath those long lashes.

There was a playful glint in her gaze, and I found it impossible not to be drawn in.

"If you don't let me do this in peace, I'll splash you with water." She grinned, daring me to test her.

"Now, that's just cruel," I said, placing my hands on the countertop, caging her in.

"Honestly, I think it'd be hilarious." She giggled. With that, I leaned closer, shrinking the space between us until only a whisper separated our bodies.

I couldn't say I had a plan. All I knew was that I wanted to test the air between us—to see if she felt the pull as strongly as I did.

"No, it really wouldn't be."

"Why don't you try getting even closer?" she said, lips twitching into a secretive smile as her eyes never left mine.

"I could, but I probably shouldn't," I replied.

"Yes, that might be a bit too much, wouldn't it?" She smiled.

The way she looked at me then, there was a spark—something that felt dangerously close to longing, though maybe I was just seeing what I wanted to see. I caught myself before things went any further and took a step back, exhaling quietly.

She went right back to washing dishes, not saying a word, her focus fixed on the task. Dragging my fingers through my hair, I tried to clear my head.

If I wasn't careful, I'd end up making a move I couldn't take back.

Emma's POV:

I washed each plate slowly, using the water as an excuse to linger.

I needed a moment to steady myself. Being near him stirred up feelings I hadn't expected— and definitely shouldn't allow. Two years side by side, and never once did he get under my skin like this.

"Is this what happens when we finally spend time together outside of work? What's gotten into me?"

"Maybe it's the dinner, Emma." His voice broke into my thoughts with a playful laugh.

"I'll blame it on the food." A laugh slipped out as I turned toward him.

"Let's move to the couch," he suggested, flashing a warm smile.

"He took a bottle of wine and two glasses." Together we walked into the living room, his palm lightly resting on my lower back, sending a jolt right through me. I kept my face turned away, certain that one look at my eyes would give everything away.

The moment I sat down, I straightened up and put a little space between us. That lasted only a second—he joined me on the couch and closed the gap, pouring us both a generous glass.

"Thanks," I said with a smile, taking a small sip and leaning back on the sofa.

"Emma, is that your real name? Do you have any brothers or sisters? What about your parents?" he asked, his curiosity genuine.

"I do. My little sister's in London right now, working her way through med school. She's set on becoming a heart surgeon. My parents are still together, still hopelessly in love after forty years," I said, a note of pride in my voice.

"That's incredible!" Brandon exclaimed. Honestly, that's the dream for me—finding a love that lasts like that." His grin was genuine.

"Same here. Maybe it'll happen for both of us someday." I smiled.

A shadow crossed his face for just a moment. I could tell his thoughts wandered, probably to Darcy and the life he once imagined with her.

Without thinking, I took his hand. Our fingers touched, and he turned back to look at me.

"You're going to find the right person, Brandon. If Darcy wasn't it, then someone even better is out there for you," I said to him gently.

"Yeah, I know you're right. It just hurts a little," he said with a hint of sorrow.

"Of course it does. But I promise, it won't hurt forever," I responded to him with a warm smile, hoping he'd find a bit of comfort.

"I wish that time would hurry up already. But enough about me. Weren't you supposed to be sharing your story tonight?" he said, brushing off the heaviness with a laugh.

"Honestly, my story's pretty simple. Life's been quiet for the most part," I replied, offering a shrug.

"Really, I keep things simple. Work keeps me busy, and when I'm not there, I'll grab dinner or a movie with friends if I have the time."

"Why not cut loose? Go have some real fun once in a while?" he asked.

"I do have fun every now and then. Back in my teenage years, I got all my wild out. You'd hardly believe some of it," I admitted, chuckling.

"I knew it. You're not nearly as quiet as you act. Come on, Emma, confess— just how wild did you get? I played it safe as a kid, probably making up for lost time now." He laughed.

I could tell exactly what he meant—nights full of drinks, wild parties, and more than a few flings.

"You're not wrong." I laughed. "Back then, I was a handful—parties every weekend, too many nights sneaking out, drinking when I shouldn't, always landing in some kind of trouble at school. My parents probably lost sleep for years, but they never gave up on me. By nineteen, I finally figured things out," I explained.

"See, I knew there was a wild side lurking beneath that calm exterior." He winked.

"I've toned it down a lot since then, trust me," I responded.

"Hard to imagine, honestly. Something tells me you still have a little wildness left in you." His smile had a teasing edge.

Maybe he was right, but he didn't need to know what actually made me reckless.

"You're welcome to keep guessing, but you're not getting any real answers out of me." My voice dropped just enough to match the playful glint in his eye. He seemed to catch my drift immediately.

"Never say never," he replied. Giving him a pointed look, I raised my brow. He clearly didn't care about subtlety.

Whatever he was thinking, I saw it in his expression— he hoped I'd cross a line I knew better than to cross. I refused to become the woman who got involved with her boss. That just was not who I was.

"In your dreams," I said with a laugh.

"I really hope that's true," he replied, his voice a bit huskier than usual.

A knot formed in my throat, and I took a deliberate step back. His flirting needed to stop, and so did my reactions. Redirecting the conversation seemed like the safest bet, so I blurted out the first neutral topic that came to mind.

*

Two hours later.

Empty bottles covered the table. With wine and beer, laughter came easy and nerves disappeared. Brandon's teasing didn't rattle me anymore. I felt lighter, freer, and more at ease.

My attraction to him didn't feel nearly as dangerous as it had before.

"You really are breathtaking, Emma. How is it possible no man's swept you off your feet yet?" Brandon asked, looking at me.

"Maybe I'm just waiting for someone who feels right," I responded, my teeth sinking lightly into my lower lip as I met his gaze.

A small sound slipped from him, almost like a groan, and I realized the lip-biting had gotten to him.

Brandon moved closer, his face just a breath from mine. One gentle hand tucked a stray lock behind my ear and came to rest at my cheek.

Trying not to let my nerves show, I held his gaze, heart pounding as he leaned in. I should have pulled away. Instead, I found myself rooted to the spot.

His lips found mine before I had a chance to overthink.

A satisfied moan escaped me as we melted into the kiss.

Every bit of resistance faded as I melted into his kiss, drawn in by the warmth and taste of him.

Strong hands found my hips and pulled me closer to him. His lips pressed against mine sent a rush of heat through my entire body, stirring up a fierce longing I couldn't ignore. A deep, urgent sound vibrated against my lips as his tongue swept across my bottom lip, coaxing a needy whimper from me. My mouth parted, and he eagerly slipped his tongue inside, the kiss turning wild and heated.

Suddenly, a jolt of panic shot through me. What was I doing? My heart raced as I broke away, scrambling to my feet and grabbing my bag from the sofa.

"I can't do this. I'm sorry," I blurted out, voice tight with nerves, making a beeline for the door.

My hand barely brushed the doorknob before he caught up, his arms circling my waist and spinning me around. Trapped between his body and the door, I could barely catch my breath. His eyes were dark and burning with lust and longing, and it made me weak in the knees.

"Why leave? I want you. You felt it too, didn't you? All night there's been something between us. Why are you trying to fight it?" he asked breathlessly.

"Brandon, this isn't who I am. I'm not the kind of woman who hooks up with her boss. I just... I can't," I said, trying to maintain some kind of control.

"We're both grown-ups, Emma. None of that matters to me. All I care about is you," he replied.

"Yes, I really do need to leave." I shoved past him, slipped out the door, and hurried through the quiet garage, fumbling for my phone to get a cab.

Putting distance between myself and Brandon was the only thing on my mind. I couldn't believe I'd let things spiral like that.

The dread of facing him at work settled in my stomach.

Damn it! Why did I let myself be so reckless?

The sight of the taxi lights brought a wave of relief as I slid into the back seat and gave the driver my address. The entire ride home, my thoughts spun in circles about how I'd ever be able to look him in the eye at work. Stepping through my front door, I grabbed a bottle of water, downed a couple of painkillers, and changed into pajamas. Exhaustion hit hard as I flopped onto my bed. Reaching for my phone, I double-checked my alarm. Work wasn't going to wait for me to sort out this mess.

Three new messages blinked on the screen, every one of them from Brandon.

He said, "Emma, please come back.

He added, "I'm sorry."

Brandon's last message said, "Just let me know you got home safe, okay? Please."

A sigh escaped me as I typed out a short reply. "I'm home."

I didn't bother saying anything more. After setting my phone on the nightstand, I pulled the covers up to my chin. Sleep came fast, and as I drifted off, I wished harder than ever that I'd wake up and find the whole night erased.

Emma's POV:

Shrill beeps shattered the silence.

Please, not the alarm already.

Let last night be nothing but a nightmare, I begged inwardly.

A groan escaped me as I snatched up my phone, silencing the alarm and tossing it aside. I sank back onto the bed, reaching for painkillers before I even thought about getting up.

Dragging myself out of bed felt impossible. Work was the last place I wanted to be after everything that happened, but there was no way I could let that mess spill into my job. Eventually, I forced myself to get moving—shower, get dressed, choke down some breakfast.

I left my car parked and chose to walk, hoping the fresh air might shake the nerves off and give me a moment to think before seeing Brandon. Standing in front of the office building, I hesitated, wrestling with whether I could actually go through with it.

After a long pause, I made up my mind.

No matter what, I'd play it cool and pretend nothing had happened.

Drawing in a few steadying breaths, I pushed through the doors.

"Good morning," I greeted the receptionist, giving her the most convincing smile I could manage.

"Good morning, Emma. Just a heads up—he's in one of his moods again today." she said, giving me a friendly smile.

"Thanks for letting me know," I said, forcing a smile.

The real reason for his sour mood was obvious— it was all because of what happened between us.

With slow, measured steps, I approached his office and tapped gently on the door.

"Come in," he called out, his voice flat and unreadable.

That cold tone was exactly what I feared. I fixed a polite smile on my face and stepped inside.

His eyes found mine the moment I walked in, echoing the same intensity I'd seen just hours ago. This time, I forced myself to pretend not to notice.

"Would you like some coffee or anything else before we get started?" I asked, smiling at him.

On the surface, I managed to look composed, though behind my back, my fingers fidgeted restlessly.

Every muscle in my body felt tense, but I couldn't let any of that show. He watched me in silence, his expression unreadable.

"No, I'm fine. We need to get started. My schedule's packed, and I'll be traveling more than usual these next few weeks," he said with a nod. "I need you to come with me," he added.

Wait— did I hear that right? Usually, he left me behind when he was travelling. In all my time working with him, I could count on one hand the times I'd actually traveled by his side. He never needed me—every place he visited came with assistants of their own.

"What? Since when do I tag along on these trips?" I asked, surprise edging into my voice.

"Since when do you second-guess what I ask of you? It's part of your job, Emma," he said with a blank expression.

I could see right through his reasoning, and I didn't like being maneuvered this way.

Technically, he was right. Supporting him was part of my job, even if it wasn't usually necessary. . "Make sure you're included in all the hotel bookings you've already handled for me. I want it finished before the day's out," Brandon remarked, diverting his gaze to the computer, returning to the task he was working on before I walked in.

"Understood, sir," I said, turning to leave.

"And where do you think you're going?" he asked.

Seriously, what was with him today? I fought the urge to roll my eyes and faced him again.

"I'm about to update those reservations, just like you told me to," I replied, forcing my voice to stay calm.

"You can use my laptop and handle it here," he said, gesturing to the device on his desk. A resigned sigh slipped out as I crossed the room.

I took a seat and Brandon slid his laptop my way. I nodded, settling in to start the reservations, acutely aware of his gaze lingering on me while I worked. For a moment, I paused and looked up, meeting his eyes.

"Emma, about what happened last night—" he said.

"No need to dwell on it. Let's just move on," I replied, giving a little shrug.

"I owe you an apology. I shouldn't have let things get that far. It was out of line." He spoke with a gentle look in his eyes and a tenderness in his voice.

"Really, sir, it's fine. We both had too much to drink, things just got out of hand." I tried to offer a reassuring smile. He gave a small nod, then refocused on his own screen.

Returning to the task, I quickly added my name to each of his hotel reservations. A stroke of luck meant there were still a few rooms left—though L.A. proved trickier. Only one room remained for the three nights he'd need.

"Mr. Simmons, there's an issue with L.A. The hotel's fully booked; there aren't any rooms left," I said, glancing up at him.

"There's always the option of sharing with me. It's a double room anyway," Brandon said.

"And where exactly am I supposed to sleep?" I asked, eyebrows knitting in confusion.

"Right there in the bed, obviously. Where else would you go?" He said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Surely he was joking. After last night, the last thing I wanted was to end up tangled in the same bed with him. Still, with no other options available, what choice did I have? Finding a new hotel at this point wasn't an option.

"Fine," I replied, though my tone made it clear I wasn't thrilled.

"You make it sound like I'm the worst roommate ever." He let out a laugh.

"It's not that. It's just going to be... incredibly awkward."

"Don't worry, I'll be on my best behavior, Miss Emma. You have my word." He smiled.

"Don't even start with the flirting. I'm serious—I can't take any more of it today."

Brandon said, "I warned him, but he didn't say a word. Instead, he only winked at me."

Focusing on my work, I did my best to keep my mind occupied, though every now and then, I caught him glancing my way with that infuriatingly charming smile.

Hadn't he just finished saying last night was a mistake? All that talk about boundaries and regrets, yet he was watching me with the same desire as before.

I kept reminding myself—hooking up with my boss would be the oldest cliché in the book. That wasn't a road I wanted to travel.

Still, there was no denying it. Something in the way I saw him had shifted. I'd be lying if I said this was the first time I'd been attracted to him. Two years of stolen glances and unspoken tension had finally started to feel impossible to ignore. My body kept betraying me, drawn in by every little thing he did, even when I knew better.

"Emma, you doing all right over there? You look a million miles away." Brandon asked.

"Mmm," I responded, unable to form more words than that.

"Care to share what's on your mind, Miss Emma?" he asked with a soft suggestion of a smile on his lips.

"It's nothing. Really. I just need to finish this work—if you'd stop making it so difficult," I retorted.

"That's all the answer I needed. Clearly, I'm in your head," he said with a smirk.

Instead of dignifying him with an answer, I scooped up my laptop and retreated to the far side of the office. His laughter followed me, but I ignored him.

Not long after, he crossed the room and paused right in front of me. I glanced up, not sure what he wanted this time.

"Is there something you need?"

"I was about to grab a coffee. Want one?" he asked sweetly.

"Sure, I guess," I replied, confused.

Getting me coffee wasn't exactly his style, so the gesture had me wondering. Maybe he was turning over a new leaf, or maybe there was some game I hadn't figured out yet. Either way, I wasn't likely to get an answer soon. When Brandon left, I let out a sigh and clung to the hope that whatever spell he'd cast would wear off—sooner rather than later.