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Then she huffs out a laugh, dark and incredulous.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” she says. “This whole thing might be a joke to you. But it’s not to me. I don’t do things halfway. And I sure as hell don’t play house for fun.”

She grabs her glass, takes another sharp sip, then slams it down again. “And if it helps, when I said benefits, I meant not feeling lonely in your own home.”

She turns on her heel and stalks past me, her body brushing against mine as she storms out into the hallway.

For a second, I just stand there, her words echoing like a slap.

Not feeling lonely in your own home.

Then I push off the counter and follow her down the hall.

She’s halfway to the stairs when I catch up, my hand closing gently around her wrist. She stops, stiffens, but doesn’t shake me off.

“I wasn’t trying to shut you out,” I say quietly. “I just... I’m sorry. I’ve never done this before.”

She turns her head slightly, but still won’t look at me. “Done what? Lived with someone?”

I tip my head to the side. “I always figured I’d be hard to live with. Turns out I was right.”

That gets her. Her shoulders soften, just a little. Enough to make me brave.

“I should’ve checked in. I should’ve waited for you this morning. I thought I was giving you space. Turns out, I was being a dick.”

She finally turns, her gaze sharp but watery. “You think?”

I give a soft, self-deprecating laugh. “Yeah, I do.”

Her eyes search mine. For what, I don’t know. Proof maybe. That I’m not just saying the right thing, but actually mean it.

“I don’t want you to feel lonely here,” I say. “That wasn’t the plan.”

There’s a beat.

Then another.

And then she exhales slowly, all that fury bleeding out until what’s left between us is just heat and ache. I’m still holding her wrist. I look down, realizing how delicate it is. I could break it with a hard enough squeeze.

Like I could break her spirit.

“You still owe me a job,” she mutters, running her tongue over her bottom lip.

I nod. “You’re right. Let’s start over tomorrow morning. I’ll take you in, show you everything.” I’ll ask my assistant to clear my schedule. It’s the least I can do.

She eyes me carefully, like she knows she’s found a chink in my armor. “I want a desk with a view,” she says, her mouth twitching.

“I’ll make it happen,” I say solemnly.

We’re still close. Too close. And the air between us starts to shift again. It feels thicker, electric. Like our fight stripped everything down to the raw truth.

And because I’m still an asshole, I find myself pulling her toward me, just to see what she’ll do.

She doesn’t pull away.

Instead, her body tips into mine, her breasts against my chest, her thighs against my legs. As though some part of herremembers that wedding chapel in Vegas. The soft lights, the breathless kiss, the moment everything changed. Her head tips toward mine, her breath catching in her throat.

And I think of how she tasted.