The next few days would have been perfect if the universe had agreed to mind its own business.
Unfortunately, it didn’t.
The trouble started in the elevator after work.
I was standing alone when Martin Graves from Human Resources stepped in.
He was in his forties, broad-faced, overdressed, and permanently slick in the worst possible way. He was the kind of man who talked too close and smiled too long. The kind I had learned to avoid by instinct.
Usually the elevator was crowded at that hour.
That night, for some reason, it was just the two of us.
The comments appeared immediately.
Bad sign.
Stay sharp.
I straightened but kept my expression polite.
“Long day?” he asked, leaning casually against the panel.
“Not too bad.”
He smiled in a way that made my skin crawl. “You young women in the executive office have it easy. Especially you. Mr. Cole seems very… generous.”
I didn’t answer.
He took that as permission to step closer.
“You’re pretty,” he said. “Pretty girls shouldn’t have to work so hard.”
My pulse spiked.
The elevator numbers blinked downward.
I moved back until I could feel the wall behind me.
“Please step back.”
He laughed quietly. “No need to be nervous.”
His hand lifted.
Before he could touch me, the elevator doors opened.
Sebastian was standing outside.
Martin dropped his hand so fast it was almost impressive.
“Mr. Cole,” he said smoothly.
Sebastian looked at him once, and that was enough.
“You,” he said flatly, “get out.”
Martin forced a laugh. “Actually, I was just—”
“I said get out.”
He got out.
The doors closed again.
The second we were alone, Sebastian turned to me. All the cold command he’d used on Martin vanished, replaced by something much sharper.
“Emily.”
I didn’t realize how tense I was until he said my name.
“I’m fine,” I said automatically.
His jaw tightened. “That isn’t what your face says.”
The comments drifted across my vision.
Tell him.
She almost got cornered.
I looked away, partly because I was upset, partly because I was angry that I had needed rescuing at all.
He stepped closer but kept enough distance that I could still breathe.
“What happened?”
I should have told him immediately.
Instead, another fear spilled out first.
“What are we?”
He blinked.
I hated how small my voice sounded.
“That afternoon in your office happened, and then dinner happened, and then you kissed me, and we came to work the next day like nothing had changed. So what are we?”
For a second he just stared at me, like he had expected anything except that question.
Then his expression changed.
Not to annoyance.
To panic.
“Emily,” he said carefully, “have you been thinking about that all day?”
I crossed my arms. “Answer me.”
He opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Then, very gently, he reached into my bag, found the pen by touch, and placed it in my hand.
The instant my fingers wrapped around it, he braced one hand on the elevator wall and exhaled sharply.
I stared at him.
His voice dropped almost to a plea.
“Please don’t do that while I’m trying to think.”
Despite everything, a flicker of satisfaction warmed my chest.
“So you can tie your feelings to office supplies, but I’m the unreasonable one?”
That made him laugh once, strained and helpless.
The elevator stopped at the parking level.
The doors opened to a few startled employees, who instantly stepped back when they saw Sebastian half bent, one hand on the wall, looking like he had just fought for his life.
“Mr. Cole?” one of them asked. “Are you alright?”
Before he could answer, I slid an arm under his and smiled sweetly.
“He’s fine,” I said. “A little under the weather. I’ll take care of him.”
They looked uncertain, but no one challenged me.
As soon as we reached his car, I opened the back door and got in.
Sebastian followed, still watching me with the cautious expression of a man who had realized his fate was no longer entirely in his own hands.
I held up the pen.
“We are going to have a conversation,” I said.
He nodded immediately.
Inside the dim interior of the car, with city lights reflecting across the windows, he finally answered.
“What are we?” he repeated.
“Yes.”
He looked at me for a long second, then said with absolute sincerity, “I was hoping we were the beginning of something serious.”
My anger dissolved so quickly it almost embarrassed me.
“You were hoping?”
“I didn’t want to pressure you.”
I stared at him.
This man had engineered a magical emotional shortcut through a fountain pen, but apparently drawing a normal relationship boundary was too aggressive.
I shouldn’t have found that adorable.
I did anyway.
“So if I say yes?” I asked.
His eyes never left mine.
“Then I will spend the rest of my life being grateful.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then I leaned forward and kissed him first.
When I pulled back, his expression looked stunned.
I tucked the pen back into my purse.
“Good,” I said. “Because yes.”
The comments practically sang.
Official at last.
He was always hers.
As for Martin Graves, I told Sebastian everything before we even drove away.
By the time he heard the last word, the softness had vanished from his face.
That man was finished.