POV – Elena
I closed the office door behind me, the day's tension still thrumming in my chest like a caged pulse. My heels clicked against the pavement as I walked toward the tube, but it was useless. No matter how many times I replayed spreadsheets or work emails in my head, the memory of James Ashford lingered — his touch, his gaze, the quiet authority he radiated. I'm going crazy. Completely crazy.
By the time I arrived at my apartment, I was trembling slightly, as if the residual electricity of him had followed me home. I kicked off my heels and flopped onto the couch, phone in hand. There was only one person I could call.
"Claire!" I exclaimed as soon as my best friend picked up. "I'm losing it. Absolutely losing it. I… I think I'm in love with my boss. My CEO. James Ashford. The man is… impossible. Gorgeous. Perfect. And I want to — I don't know — rip my clothes off in front of him, but also hide under my desk like a normal human being."
There was a pause on the other end, followed by a laugh. "Elena… calm down. Okay, breathe. You need a distraction. Forget Mr. Tall, Dark, and Infuriating for a few hours. I know just the thing. Let's go out tonight. Bar. Drinks. Music. Flirtation. The works."
I hesitated, but the thought of escaping my obsessive thoughts about James was too tempting to refuse. "Fine," I said finally, "but you're choosing the place. No chance of bumping into him, right?"
"Trust me. I know how to protect my friends from CEOs."
By 9 p.m., we were in a dimly lit bar downtown, the kind of place where laughter mixed with music and the clink of glasses. Claire ordered two cocktails for us — something fruity and dangerously strong — and we settled into a corner booth, watching the crowd.
After a few sips, my tension started to ease. My thoughts of James dimmed just enough to let the rest of the world in. That's when I noticed them: two men at the bar, tall, confident, perfectly dressed, each with an elegance that seemed effortless. One had dark hair and a charming smile; the other blond, piercing blue eyes, a laugh that drew you in immediately.
Claire nudged me. "Go on. Talk to them. Get your mind off… whatever CEO problem you've got."
I swallowed and tried to steady my nerves. This is insane. I'm a responsible adult. But also… maybe harmless flirting won't hurt.
A few minutes later, they were introducing themselves. "I'm Adrian," said the dark-haired one, extending a hand. "And this is Leo." His companion nodded, the blue eyes sparkling.
I shook Adrian's hand, then Leo's, and immediately felt my pulse quicken — not from desire, exactly, but from the excitement of new energy, someone noticing me for me, not the woman behind the HR title or the office tension.
We talked. Laughing, joking, sharing stories about work, life, and absurd situations from college. My shoulders relaxed for the first time in days. A couple of cocktails later, the conversation became more playful, flirty, and I felt the rush of adrenaline — a welcome contrast to the taut tension that always accompanied thoughts of James.
At one point, Leo leaned slightly closer, voice teasing. "You're not like anyone we've met tonight. And yet… there's something in your eyes, something I can't quite place. Intriguing."
I blushed, feeling that mix of self-consciousness and excitement any woman experiences when someone genuinely notices her. I am just Elena. But somehow… he sees me.
Adrian joined in, his dark eyes locking with mine. "And you're fascinating to talk to. Honest. Charming. You laugh like you mean it, not just because it's polite."
By the end of the night, we had moved to a quieter corner, closer, the world outside our little circle fading. One more cocktail, one more laugh, and I felt a warmth spread through me — a release of tension, a playful energy that reminded me I could feel desire, attraction, and flirtation without it being dangerous.
And yet, as I left the bar later, leaning on Claire for support, my thoughts inevitably drifted back to him. James Ashford. The pull in my chest, the ache of wanting something I shouldn't want. I smiled wryly at the irony — two perfect strangers had reminded me I could feel alive in ways beyond work… yet the man who consumed my thoughts remained utterly irresistible.
The night had been a temporary escape, a reminder that I could flirt, laugh, and feel desire in a controlled way. But deep down, I knew: nothing — not cocktails, not charming strangers, not laughter — could ever compete with the fire that James Ashford ignited in me.
And the truth was terrifying: I didn't want it to.
I woke with a groan, sunlight streaming too brightly through the curtains. My head throbbed in steady pulses, a reminder that I had perhaps overindulged the night before. Stretching, I winced as a wave of nausea swept over me. Coffee. Definitely coffee.
I sat up slowly, feeling the tangled sheets cling to me, my hair a messy halo around my face. The memory of the bar came rushing back — laughter, cocktails, the playful teasing of Adrian and Leo. I smiled despite myself, remembering the thrill of feeling desired for no other reason than me.
But even that fleeting excitement couldn't push him out of my mind. James Ashford. The pull in my chest, the ache I felt whenever I thought of him, had not diminished. If anything, it had grown.
I shuffled to the kitchen, pouring a mug of coffee and sipping it cautiously. My phone vibrated on the counter, startling me. I glanced at the screen, my heart skipping a beat.
James Ashford.
I stared at it, disbelief mingling with a surge of anticipation. It was the weekend. He shouldn't be calling. He shouldn't be… interested. And yet, here it was. My thumb hovered over the green icon, fingers trembling slightly.
"Hello?" I finally whispered, voice hoarse.
"Elena," his voice was calm, low, deliberate — that velvet tone that always sent shivers down my spine. "I know it's the weekend. I hope I'm not disturbing you."
"No… no, not at all," I stammered, trying to steady myself.
There was a pause. I could almost hear the faint amusement in his tone. "Good. I wanted to ask… would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"
I nearly choked on my coffee. "Dinner?" I echoed, my mind spinning. He's asking me, Elena Dorne, his HR manager, to dinner. On the weekend.
"Yes," he said softly, almost casually, yet there was an intensity behind it that made my knees weak. "I feel like… we need more than brief exchanges at the office. Just you and me. No schedules, no distractions."
My thoughts raced. Of course I want to. More than anything. But he's my boss. The CEO. He's… James Ashford. Gorgeous, perfect, and entirely untouchable.
"I… I don't know," I admitted, voice barely a whisper. "I mean… it's… you're my… my boss. And…"
"And?" His tone was gentle, patient, yet teasing.
"And I shouldn't," I finished, cheeks burning. "I mean… it's probably a bad idea. For me. For… us."
There was a quiet chuckle on the other end. "Elena… since when have I ever asked for things that were easy or convenient?"
I bit my lip, my fingers trembling as I wrapped them around the mug. Desire warred with reason inside me. The pull of him was magnetic, undeniable. The thought of sitting across from him tonight, hearing his voice, feeling the tension between us — it was intoxicating. And yet, a voice in my head whispered: He's your boss. Be careful. Don't get in over your head.
"I… I think… I should say yes," I admitted, almost to myself. "But I also… should be careful."
There was a pause, then his voice returned, lower now, more intimate. "That's all I ask. Just come. Let's see where the evening takes us."
And just like that, the decision seemed made before I could fully think it through. My heart leapt with anticipation and a hint of fear. He had invited me into a world I wasn't sure I belonged in, but my pulse, my desire, my longing — they all screamed that I wanted this, more than I should admit.
"I'll… I'll come," I whispered finally, voice soft but firm.
"Good," he said, a faint smile in his voice. "I'll pick you up at seven. Dress as you like. Just… you."
The call ended, and I sat there, heart racing, hands trembling slightly. Seven o'clock. He would be at the door in a few hours. The very thought of it made my stomach flutter, my pulse thrum. Desire, hesitation, excitement, and fear intertwined, leaving me dizzy and strangely exhilarated.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Tonight… would change everything.