I groan quietly, burying my face in my hands. “Get a grip, Matilda.”
I’m trying, but my body has other ideas. Every time I close my eyes, I see him — his hand gripping my waist, the gravel in his voice when he whisperedstop doing that, the way his lips hovered over mine like a dare before finally closing the gap.
How am I supposed to go back to pretending he’s just my boss after that?
I glance at his office again. The blinds are still half-closed, the faint shadow of him moving occasionally past the glass. I wonder if he’s thinking about it too. Or if he’s already compartmentalised the whole thing, filed it neatly under “professional catastrophes,” and moved on.
Because that’s what Henry does. He moves on.
And that’s what I should do too.
I force myself to look back at my inbox. Junk, invoices, internal memos, another email from HR reminding me tocomplete the mandatory cybersecurity quiz I’ve been ignoring for three months.
Then something new pops up.
Subject:New position in our team!
It’s from Natalie, one of the junior architects in residential. My pulse picks up a little — not from excitement exactly, but because anything is better than sitting here waiting for my shame to catch fire.
I click it open.
From:[email protected]
Subject:New position in our team!
Hey Matilda,
Hannah’s looking for someone new to join the residential team — workload’s tripled this quarter. I heard she’s going to start headhunting next week, but honestly, you should submit your CV before she does. You’d be perfect for the role.
— Nat x
My heart does a weird, uneven backflip.
Perfect.
I reread the email twice. The residential department. The team that designs those stunning city lofts and coastal homes with infinity pools and balconies that look straight out of a movie.
That could be me.
And for a moment, the spark of excitement overshadows the lingering ache of confusion from earlier.
Because maybe this — this opportunity — is exactly what I need. A fresh start.
A chance to do what I’ve always wanted to do instead of what I fell into.
I glance again at Henry’s office door, still firmly shut. My chest tightens at the sight.
A week ago, I would have jumped at the chance to leave his shadow, to work under someone who doesn’t make my pulse race every time he walks past.
But now…
Now it feels complicated.
Because despite everything — despite the arguments, the tension, the supply cupboard incident that may or may not have rewired my brain — I like working with Henry. Iunderstandhim in ways most people don’t.
And there’s this part of me, small but stubborn, that doesn’t want to walk away from whatever the hell is happening between us — even if it’s completely, utterly doomed.
