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"Damn it, you're going to have it all," I whisper fiercely into the darkness, my reflection staring back at me with an intensity that matches the storm brewing inside.
The walk home is a blur, my mind racing faster than my feet. I can't shake the image of Abby in that interview chair, poised on the edge of a new life, her eyes alight with cautious hope. She's a fighter, my fierce little phoenix rising from the ashes of hardship.
Back in my apartment, the city's pulse fades into the background as I pour myself a drink. The amber liquid swirls in the glass, mimicking the color of her eyes—the eyes that don’t quite trust me yet. It's a challenge I accept with relish.
I sink into the leather couch, the weight of my vow settling around me. It's heavy, binding, a promise that threads through my very soul. I will do whatever it takes for Abby.
The city sleeps but I'm wide awake, plotting and planning. I'll build her a fortress of joy brick by brick if I have to, fight off any shadows that dare creep close. And when she smiles, free from worry, free from doubt, it’ll be brighter than any skyline.
And for the first time in a long while, I let myself believe in a future that might just be bright enough for both of us.
CHAPTER SIX
Abby
The moment I step out of the elevator, my heart's already doing a salsa in my chest. First day jitters, mixed with the kind of thrill you get right before a rollercoaster drop. I pause outside his office door, smoothing down my pencil skirt and taking a deep breath. The brass nameplate glints at me: Merrick Mason, CEO.
Oh boy.
"Get it together, Abby," I mutter under my breath, forcing my hand to turn the doorknob before I can bolt for the hills.
I stride in, all feigned confidence and rehearsed smiles, but the sight of him—Merrick Mason—leaning back against his desk like he owns gravity. And damn, does he wear it well. He looks up from his papers, and that smile of his hits me like a shot of tequila—smooth with a potent afterburn.
"Abby, right on time." His voice is dark chocolate, rich and sinful. "Welcome to the team."
"Thank you, Merrick," I let his name roll off my tongue, playing it cool even though my insides are a fizzy soda pop.
That smile again, and I swear the temperature in here spikes a few degrees.
The air sizzles between us, laced with something more than just employee-boss decorum. I catch the way his eyes—a stormy blue that could drown me if I'm not careful—linger a little too long.
"Hope you're ready," he says, and it’s not lost on me, the double entendre hanging in the air like an invitation.
"Always," I shoot back, the flirtatious edge to my voice surprising even me.
He chuckles, a low sound that rumbles through the room, and pushes away from the desk. As he steps closer, the space between us crackles, charged with something untamed and electric.
"Good to know," he purrs, his gaze bold and unapologetic. "I have a feeling we’re going to get along just fine, Abby."
Oh, I think to myself, heat creeping up my neck, we'll get along alright—dangerously so.
The room is intimate, almost cozy, with our desks sitting less than an arm's length apart. The air feels charged, thick with unspoken promises and the ghost of our flirtatious exchange.
I settle into my chair, acutely aware of Merrick's presence just a few feet away. His focus is on his screen, but I can feel the weight of his gaze, heavy and warm, like a blanket I'm not sure I want to shrug off.
"Merrick," I call, "can you come take a look at this?" I can’t figure out this one task he’s given me and want to make sure I’m doing it right
"Sure." He rises, closing the distance between us in three short steps. His presence dwarfs me as he leans over my shoulders. I catch a whiff of his cologne, something woodsy and subtly spicy. It’s intoxicating.
He points at the file on my screen, but it's just pretense. We both know it.
"Here?" His finger brushes the document lightly, and then, accidentally-on-purpose, grazes the back of my hand. A jolt shoots up my arm.
“Yes,” I confirm, my throat dry.
"Exactly there," he confirms. His voice is low, husky. Our eyes meet, and there’s no mistaking the flicker of heat in his. He's playing with fire, and so am I.
"I think I got it,” I swallow thickly.
