William steps closer, his movement slow, as if he is documenting all the changes in me. "You always look like you," he counters, eyes never leaving mine. "Just different versions. Badass Team Principal Colton. Seductive Magazine CoverColton." His lips quirk into that half-smile that always makes my stomach flip. "My Violet."
The possessive sends a shiver through me—inappropriate, unprofessional, and exactly what I've longed to hear. After weeks of being everyone else's rock, of making decisions that affected dozens of lives, of navigating Dominic's traps... Being someone's anything feels like a gift.
But Dominic's threats hover between us—unspoken but impossible to ignore. If he knows about us, if he's watching, every moment together becomes ammunition he can use.
"William..." I start, not entirely sure what will follow. A warning? A welcome? Both seem equally true.
He doesn't wait to find out. In three steps, he closes the distance between us and wraps his arms around me, pulling me against his chest in an embrace that feels like coming home. I freeze for just a moment, professional caution warring with personal need, before my body makes the decision my mind can't. I slide my arms around his waist, face pressing into his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him that I’m addicted to.
"I missed you," he whispers against my hair, the simple truth of it cracking something open inside my chest.
We stand locked together, his heartbeat steady against my cheek, the most real thing I've encountered in weeks. My office fades around us—the wall-sized windows overlooking the test track, the polished desk with its neatly arranged reports, the sound-insulated walls that make this small confession of need possible. I should pull away. Should reestablish professional distance. Should remember Dominic's threats. But William's arms feel like the first safe harbor I've found since Christmas morning, and I can't make myself let go. I don’t want to.
"You're really here," he murmurs into my hair, his breath warm against my scalp. "Not just another dream where youdisappear when I try to touch you. I had too many of those. Would not recommend."
The raw honesty in his voice breaks something loose inside me. William has never seen the difference between those versions of me. To him, they've always been one and the same.
He pulls back slightly, hands sliding up to my shoulders, caressing them, eyes roaming my face with undisguised hunger, and something softer—more vulnerable. His gaze catches on my straightened hair, and a small furrow appears between his brows.
"You look dazzling, like a siren right now," he says, one hand moving to touch a sleek strand that's fallen across my forehead. "However, I love your curls a lot more."
I smile, my professional armor cracking further. "The magazine wanted us to look 'formidable' after Dominic's Christmas stunt." I roll my eyes slightly. "The stylist claimed straight hair reads as more authoritative. More controlled."
"Bullshit," William says immediately, tracing the artificially smooth line of my hair. "Your curls are powerful. Like you—wild but disciplined, soft but strong." He slides his hand to the nape of my neck. "Natural. That's a tough balance to have, but you… have it."
The simple compliment warms me more than it should.
"You have no idea how many products they used," I tell him, leaning subtly into his touch. "Three separate heat treatments. Something that smelled like chemicals and burned my scalp. Enough hairspray to be classified as an environmental hazard." I wrinkle my nose at the memory. "Never again. It was a pain in the ass. I look flammable as hell."
William laughs, the sound vibrating through his chest and into mine. "I can imagine. Lots of sitting still, I bet. Which I know is your favorite thing."
"Torture," I agree, finding myself smiling despite everything. "Belforte kept making business calls while they worked on me. Somehow negotiated two construction contracts while I was held hostage by the stylist."
"That man probably makes deals in his sleep." William's hands drift down to my waist, fingers hooking lightly around the leather jacket. "This, though... this I could get used to. Very different from Team Principal Colton's usual armor."
"The jacket was the only part I didn't hate," I admit. "Though it's not exactly office-appropriate, nor what I'd usually wear."
"It's weird," he says, tugging gently at the leather. "Pleasantly weird to not see you in your professional blazer." His lips quirk up at one corner. "Although I do love your trademark power suit—the dark grey with thin violet pinstripes. That one's still my favorite."
"You noticed the thin pinstripes?" I'm genuinely surprised. Few people catch that subtle detail.
William gives me a look of mock offense. "I notice everything about you, Violet. Everything. Every. Single. Detail. The way you tap your pen twice before signing anything important. How your right eyebrow lifts slightly when someone's giving you information you already know. The small moles sprinkled on your face like stars in the night sky. The small scar on your collarbone that you never talk about."
He navigates to the spot, just visible above my shirt collar, making my breath catch. The intimacy of his observation, the way he's cataloged these tiny details others miss, feels more revealing than if he'd undressed me.
"I've missed you," I whisper, the words escaping before I can contain them. Not just a reciprocation, but a confession that cuts deeper than I intended.
The wooden floor creaks beneath us as William shifts closer, his forehead coming to rest against mine. "Three weeks," hesays quietly. "Three weeks without hearing your voice properly. Without seeing your face. Without touching you." His hands tighten slightly at my waist. "Chicago felt like another galaxy."
"It was necessary," I say, though the justification sounds hollow even to my own ears. "EJ needed direct support. Belforte needed to make a show of unity. The team needed—"
"I know," William interrupts gently. "The team comes first. Always." He traces small circles against the leather at my waist with his thumbs. "I understand that, Violet. I do. Doesn't mean I didn't miss you like crazy."
"I thought about calling you properly," I admit. "Not just the brief updates. Actually talking. But with Dominic's threats hanging over us, I’m getting paranoid if my phone calls are being monitored in some way..."
William's jaw tightens slightly, the only indication that the mention of Dominic has registered. "He doesn't get to control this," he says, voice low and fierce. "Any of this. What's between us is ours, not ammunition for his games."
The certainty in his voice lightens the weight on my shoulders. In his presence, the complications and threats that loom so large at a distance seem suddenly manageable. Not gone, but navigable. Like a difficult section of track that requires skill and nerve, not panic.
