The Detriot office buzzed like a beehive... deals, deadlines, and desperation hanging in the air. I inhaled deeply, letting the familiar chaos steady me.

"Miss Catherine," Shelly, my assistant, chirped. Her eyes flicked to my left hand,, my now bare ring finger. I pasted on my most polished smile, hiding the sting.

"Something wrong?" I asked, though I already knew.

She blinked, then gave a nervous laugh. "No, no! It's just... you'd already said you were done for the year. I didn't expect to see you back so soon."

"I changed my mind," I said coolly, adjusting my grip on my bag. "What's on the docket?"

Shelly hesitated. "Well... if you're sure. There's one project that's behind schedule. Local election in Detroit. The mayoral race. It's a mess but it's winnable." She handed me a folder with too many post-its.

I nodded, taking my coffee and heading toward my office. Shelly followed, rattling off deadlines.

"The candidate's high-profile, lots of donor traction. He's got the funding, just needs the polish. You'll whip it into shape."

"Who's the client?" I asked, eyes scanning the report.

"Mr. Ronald Turner."

I stopped cold. My breath hitched, my head snapped up to find a pair of blue eyes staring back at me.

"Good morning, Catherine," Mr Turner said smoothly. "I look forward to working with you."

No. No, no, no.

My brain short-circuited, flashing back to three nights ago... his calloused hands on my face, the heat in his gaze, the almost-kiss. Just a blur of Monopoly money, expensive rum, and dangerously frayed restraint. I shook my head. It was just the alcohol making overthinking. Nothing happened.

I took in a shaky breath and smiled. "Mr Turner, Star heights will take care of every of your needs. You just sit back and relax."

His lips curled into a faint smirk. "That's why I pay good money." He stood, buttoning his tailor made suit and stretched out his hand for a handshake. "Make me mayor Catherine."

I shook it, ignoring the way his touch lingered. "We're only as good as our clients."

We locked eyes for way too long.

Shelly cleared her throat behind me. "Here's the campaign schedule... it's tight, but nothing Catherine can't juggle."

Her voice faded into background noise. My thoughts screamed: What sin did I commit to end up stuck with my ex's father? One who nearly kissed me.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. As Shelly packed up for the holidays, I stopped her.

"Hey, Shelly," I said. "I don't think this project is the best one for me. I'll need you to write an email to the board."

She blinked. "Wait-what?"

"I called off the engagement. Jayden and I are done."

Her mouth dropped open. "Oh."

Just "oh." No sympathy. No shock. I guess I'd been the only one fooled.

"I just... I think it would be too weird," I said quietly.

She grinned. "Nonsense, you're a boss chick. Screw some trust fund kid. If you do this? It would open up doors for you Miss Catherine. I'm talking about you going straight to being a board member."

"I know, but-"

"No buts." She pointed a lacquered nail at me. "This is your moment. You want freedom? You want time for your sister? You finish this job. Nail this campaign, and you'll never have to answer to anyone again."

She slung her purse over her shoulder, pausing just long enough to deliver the final punchline:

"Besides, now you get to work up close and personal with Mr. Turner. Why settle for the colt when you could have the stallion?"

And with that, she sauntered off, hips swaying, leaving me speechless in the hallway. I shook my head chuckling to myself.

I grabbed my bag, getting into the car and the engine revved to life as I sped through the streets. My mind spun. If this campaign succeeded, I could slow down. I could breathe. Ellie and I could move into a bigger place. She'd have more space. Better care. Hell, we could even take a trip. Something normal. Something happy.

I pulled into the hospital parking lot and stepped out, the cold nipping at my skin. Inside, the elevator took me to the top floor... Ellie's floor. I guess the Turner family hadn't pulled their support just yet.

The door creaked open as I stepped into the room. The sterile smell of antiseptic clung to everything, the rhythmic sound of the EKG matched my heartbeat. She was asleep, clinging to her stuffed pillow.

I smiled, perching on the side of the bed and she stirred, her lashes fluttering open.

"Katie?" She croaked, rubbing her eyes.

"Hey, sport. Miss me?" 

Her eyes lit up and she threw herself at me with her arms tight around my neck. "Of course I missed you! They dragged me out of class. I just fainted, that's all. Total overreaction."

She pulled back with a pout. "I'm sure everyone stared. What if it happens at the school dance? What if they think I'm some diseased freak?"

I ran my fingers through her hair. "I don't care what they think, Ellie. All I care about is that you're okay. Everyone else can shove it."

She giggled then coughed. I was on my feet instantly, grabbing water. She took it gratefully and drank but her eyes were glassy with defiance.

"I'm fine, Katie. You worry too much. Look at your frown lines."

I gasped, feigning offense. "How dare you."

Her eyes flickered to my fingers and I exhaled sharply, already knowing where this was headed. "Ellie-"

"Did you dump that douchebag?" she interrupted brightly. "Thank God. I was worried I'd be stuck with him as a brother-in-law forever."

I snorted. "That douchebag pays for your VIP room."

She arched her brow. "You mean his dad does?"

"Same difference."

She wrinkled her nose. "Still a douchebag."

And just like that, she changed the subject, typical Ellie, launching into gossip and stories. We spent the night trading laughter for worry, and for a little while, everything felt almost normal.

Almost.

The Christmas Eve Carol.

Detroit's biggest gathering of the year.

People packed every inch of the city square, bundled in coats and scarves, rosy-cheeked from the cold and filled with holiday cheer. Laughter echoed through the streets, the air thick with the scent of cinnamon, roasted chestnuts, and fresh snow.

But my insides were in knots.

I was supposed to be sipping mulled wine with Jayden, kissing under twinkling lights, pretending our relationship wasn't already on fire. Instead, I was here, wrapped in my thickest coat and lonelier than I had ever been.

"Why do you look like you're about to open the dam of tears?" Stacey nudged me, handing over a cup of hot chocolate. Snow sat pretty on her lashes, like she was part of a postcard.

I tried to smile, failed, and exhaled instead. "Because my life is about to end."

She snorted. "Dramatic much? Carol is dense, we all came to that conclusion the first week of college." Her breath misted in the air. "Still, what she did was next-level backstabbing."

I didn't respond. There wasn't much to say. I'd walked in on my boyfriend having sex with my friend... no amount of therapy or tequila would unsee that.

Stacey looped her arm through mine. "Look on the bright side. She saved you from ending up with a misogynistic manchild, you landed the biggest job of your career, Ellie got discharged early, and you get to spend Christmas with her."

She smiled, warm enough to melt the ice that had nestled in my chest. "Next year, you're starting out as a whole new woman. Fiercer, sexier, and maybe, just maybe you'll finally go for the silver fox."

I laughed despite myself. "I'm not going after my ex's father, Stacey. That's a mess waiting to happen."

"Just think about it," she fanned herself dramatically. "Hot, steamy office romance. It's giving power play."

I groaned. "Please. Can we not?"

"Fine, fine," she said, grinning like the devil. "But if he ever pulls a Christian Grey on you, just know I told you so."

I shook my head, smiling as we waded through the crowd to get a better view of the stage. A trio of elves... okay, teenagers in velvet costumes started strumming their guitars, and then the singing began.

The voices of hundreds joined in. It was beautiful, in a chaotic kind of way. And for a second, I felt lighter. Maybe Stacey was right. Maybe next year would be better.

Halfway through the second song, she leaned close. "I'm gonna grab us some candles."

I nodded, watching her disappear into the sea of people. I was still smiling when a voice from behind knocked the wind right out of me.

"Catherine."

My heart stuttered and I snapped my head back.  Blue eyes like winter sky, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. He looked maddeningly calm despite the noise and color and movement around us.

"Mr Turner," I breathed. A bystander shoved past, pushing me forward, I stumbled, but he caught my arm, steadying me with alarming ease.

"Call me Ronald, Catherine," he said, that smooth tone making my spine straighten. "We'll be working together for a while. Might as well get comfortable."

"In a business sense," he added.

"Sure... thing. Mr. Turner... I mean, Mr Ronald." I stammered, pulling gently away from his grasp.

"Just Ronald is fine."

I nodded too fast. "My friend's been gone a while. I should... probably go check on her."

I didn't wait for his response, I bolted like a deer escaping headlights. God, why couldn't I be as cool as Stacey? My cheeks burned as I reached the candle stand and scanned the crowd.

No sign of her.

I pulled out my phone, texting her as I walked, weaving through bundled-up bodies. I hadn't taken two steps when I slammed into someone.

"Ah... I'm sorry I-" the words died in my mouth as I laid eyes on the last person on earth I wanted to see. 

"It seems you can't stay away," He drawled, flashing a sleazy smirk, the same one he pulled every time he was drunk out of his mind. There was a girl hanging off his arm... brunette, glitter makeup, dead in the eyes.

I rolled my eyes, despite the way my heartbeat thundered. There was no way I was going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me down. He was the one who messed up.

"This is a public space, Jayden. Not everything revolves around you."

He scoffed. "We're already over, Catherine. No need to keep pretending you didn't want it to happen."

I took a breath. "I didn't want to walk in on you screwing Carol on my couch, Jayden." My voice was louder than I intended and heads turned.

His grin faltered. The girl on his arm blinked.

I gestured to her. "If you have two brain cells, you'll run now and never look back. He doesn't know the first thing about commitment. And the sex?" I leaned in with false sweetness. "Wasn't that good. I had to fake every moan so his pride wouldn't cry itself to sleep."

The girl snorted. Jayden's face twisted. He yanked his arm away from her and stepped toward me. "You crazy b-"

He swung aiming for my face but the slap never landed. A hand gripped his wrist mid-air. My eyes snapped. Mr. Turner.

His usually calm expression was gone, replaced with something terrifyin... fury burning in his eyes.

"You've had too much to drink," he said evenly, but the threat in his voice was razor-sharp. "You're not thinking straight. Walk away before we both do something you'll regret."

Jayden yanked his wrist free, looking between me and his father.

"Is this some kind of 'good cop' moment?"

He shrugged, glancing at me. "Translate it however you want. Besides... she's not the one swinging fists."

Jayden sneered. "Whatever." He turned, grabbing the girl roughly by the wrist. "Let's go." She hesitated, then followed him.

The moment they were gone, Mr. Turner looked at me. "I'm sorry about that."

"It's fine," I said, even though it wasn't. "I think I've had enough drama for one night. Just need to find Stacey, then I'll head home."

"I'll stay with you until you're in a cab," he offered.

"I'll be fine."

"I insist."

I hesitated... then nodded. "Okay. Thanks."

We barely moved a step before the world split open.

A thunderous blast exploded in the center of the square with bright light, flames, people screaming, chaos blooming like firecrackers.

My ears rang like someone had set off a bomb inside my skull. The air was thick with smoke, a burnt chemical tang that clung to my throat and made it impossible to breathe properly. Screams tore through the air, people stumbling over each other like dominoes in a blind panic. My heart pounded so violently I thought it might burst.

I turned around in the chaos, disoriented. Then I felt a strong hand gripping my wrist.

"Come on," Mr Turner said, his face tight with tension. "Stay close to me Catherine."

I could barely hear him through the ringing in my ears, but I caught enough. Still, I shook my head. My eyes frantically scanned the crowd. "Stacey... she -"

"I'll make sure she's okay," he shouted through the screams, cutting me off. "I promise. But first, we need to get you out of here."

Something in the way he said it made me believe him. I took one last desperate look through the smoke and nodded. He didn't hesitate. With one arm still around me, he bulldozed through the crowd like a possessed man, pushing people aside, shouting orders, clearing a path.

We didn't stop until the chaos dulled behind us. Sirens were growing louder, slicing through the haze of panic. Mr. Turner turned to me, gripped my shoulders firmly.

"Catherine," he said again with his eyes searching mine. "You with me?"

I blinked a few times, nodded slowly. "Stacey..."

"I'll find her," he promised, softer this time. "As soon as the fire service gets here, help guide people. Anyone you see, send them to the trucks. Can you do that?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced a nod. "Yes. I can."

He took off before I could say anything else.

When the fire truck screeched into view, I ran straight to the first officer, spitting out everything I knew, the layout, the estimated number of people, where I last saw smoke thickest, where I lost Stacey. Orders were barked and within minutes, there was structure in the madness.

I grabbed towels, water bottles, anything I could find. People were crying, coughing, bleeding. I handed out whatever I had, pressing cloths to heads, pouring water into open hands. Sweat rolled down my temples as I bent to help another girl when I saw them... Mr. Turner, with Stacey in his arms.

She was pale, clutching at him like her legs couldn't hold her weight. Blood streaked the side of her face.

"Stacey!" I shouted, running to them. "Oh my God... are you okay?"

Her dazed eyes found mine. "Just... lightheaded. I think I hit my head."

Tears blurred my vision. I reached for her but had to step back as medics swarmed her, lifting her gently onto a stretcher. Mr. Turner rested a hand on my shoulder.

"They're taking care of her," he said. "She'll be fine."

I couldn't speak. I wrapped my arms around myself and just nodded. The firefighters got the flames under control quickly after that. Mr. Turner came up beside me once again, this time with a tired but soft smile.

"You did good, Catherine. Real good."

I didn't answer. I couldn't.

He pressed a cold water bottle into my hand. "Your friend will be okay. You did everything you could."

I took it, finally managing a watery smile. "Thank you."

Four long hours later, most of the square was cleared out. Injured people had been taken to hospitals, and Stacey's sister had arrived in a flood of tears, hugging me and sobbing thank-yous before helping Stacey into the car.

The adrenaline was fading. All that was left was the weight in my limbs and a dull ache behind my eyes. I was just starting to consider how I'd get home when Mr. Turner reappeared at my side.

"Come on," he said quietly. "I'll give you a ride."

I wanted to say no. I should've said no. But my body had other plans. I nodded, too tired to argue. The moment I stepped into his car, I regretted it.

The air inside was warm and smelled like him... clean, woodsy, a hint of spice that made my stomach flutter. I hugged myself tightly, trying not to think about anything except the dark streets outside the window.

He slid in beside me and started the engine. "The media's going to have a field day tomorrow."

I winced. "Right. I hadn't even thought about that."

"Might actually be good for the campaign," he added after a moment. "A candidate on the ground. Present. Helping."

I nodded slowly. "It'll look good. Even if it was awful."

He glanced over. "I'm not worried. I've got you."

My heart stuttered. He meant the campaign. Obviously. I tried to convince myself of that as I stared hard at my trembling hands in my lap.

But the tension in the car was growing thick and every breath I took felt like a mistake. Every shift he made in the seat sent heat running across my skin. I needed to get out.

Finally, we pulled up to my house. I reached for the door handle with shaking fingers. Why were my hands trembling this much? But I couldn't get it open. It was stuck, or maybe I was just too exhausted and wired to function. Before I could try again, Mr. Turner reached across, his arm brushing mine. My breath caught in my throat.

He opened the door for me but paused. Our eyes locked. And stayed that way. His gaze flickered to my lips and they parted unconsciously. And like a fool, I licked my lips. Heat flared up my spine. His eyes darkened.

Move, Catherine. Say something. Anything.

But I just sat there.

He leaned in, slowly, giving me every chance to stop him. But as the horny messed girl I was, I didn't. My eyes fluttered shut the second his lips grazed mine.

It was barely a kiss at first. A whisper. A question. Almost like he was asking for permission and I gave him the answer... tilting my head, opening my mouth and he took over. His hand cupped the back of my neck, deepening the kiss with a hunger that sent warm straight to my core.

I moaned softly, fingers curling into the collar of his shirt. His other hand tangled in my hair as he pulled me closer. It wasn't just a kiss. It was a dam breaking. Weeks maybe months of lingering looks, of "almost" moments and "maybe" touches. It all erupted in that kiss, hot and desperate and inevitable.

But the second it ended, the world came crashing back.

I gasped and jerked away like I'd touched a live wire. "I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

I didn't wait for a reply. I flung open the door and ran inside. My heart pounded so hard I thought it might knock the walls down from the inside.

Once the door slammed shut behind me, I collapsed against it.

What the hell did I just do?