It was almost 8 p.m. when the office finally went quiet.
Camille had gone home. The buzz of the team working on Carter Tech's crisis had faded into silence. All that was left was the low hum of the city outside and the faint sound of Ryan's voice behind Elena's office door.
He was still here.
Elena told herself it was because the situation was urgent. That they were just collaborating, digging through files and trying to trace the leak.
But that didn't explain why he was sitting on the couch in her office now, sleeves rolled up, shoes off, two buttons undone.
It didn't explain why she hadn't told him to leave.
You always work this late? he asked, not looking up as he scrolled through another email chain on his laptop.
Only when billionaires walk back into my life with PR fires and unresolved tension.
That made him look up. His mouth tilted into that familiar half-smirk. Unresolved tension? You admitting it now?
I'm stating facts. You're the one who keeps trying to turn them into confessions.
Ryan leaned back, stretching slightly, his arm draped over the back of the couch. You know, I used to imagine what it would be like to see you again. After that night.
Elena didn't answer. Her hands stilled on the keyboard.
He noticed.
I thought maybe you'd hate me, he continued, or pretend like none of it happened. But here you are—working late, helping me, even though you swore you wouldn't.
Because this is business, she said sharply.
You keep saying that like you're trying to convince yourself.
That struck a nerve.
Elena stood and walked toward the window, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she stared at the skyline. You hurt me, Ryan. You ghosted me when things got real. One day we're… whatever we were—and the next, silence. No calls. No answers.
I know, he said quietly.
She turned, her eyes hard. Then why now? Why show up like it didn't happen?
Ryan stood slowly. Because I was scared. You got too close, and I didn't know how to handle it. I thought pushing you away would protect you—and me. But I haven't stopped thinking about you. Not once.
Elena's breath hitched. She hated how sincere he sounded. How her body betrayed her with a flicker of hope she didn't want.
She looked away. It's too late.
Is it?
He stepped closer. Close enough that she could feel the warmth of him. Close enough that all the space she'd tried to build between them suddenly felt paper-thin.
Elena, he said softly, tell me to walk away. And I will. But if you don't… I'm going to kiss you.
Her pulse thundered in her ears.
Tell him to walk away. Say it. Say it now.
But she didn't.
She couldn't.
And that was all the answer he needed.
When his lips met hers, it wasn't soft. It was desperate. Like all the tension and silence and regret had finally boiled over. Her hands found his shirt, fisting the fabric, pulling him closer, even as her mind screamed this is a mistake.
But her heart?
Her heart was already falling all over again.