Chapter Thirteen #2
“Four or five days.” She said it slowly, like she was considering what that meant. “In Vegas. Together.”
“With the rest of the team,” I added, though we both knew that wasn’t really the point.
“Right. The team.” Her eyes held mine, and I didn’t miss the mischievous glint there. “Very professional.”
“Extremely professional,” I echoed, matching her tone, but my hands itched to reach out and touch her. Which I resisted, of course.
“Nothing unprofessional will happen whatsoever.”
I shoved my hands into my pants pockets, fighting a smile. “Absolutely not.”
“Good.” She picked up her laptop and tucked it under her arm, but she didn’t move right away. “Because we have boundaries now.”
“Very firm boundaries.”
“Exactly.” She paused, her fingernails drumming once against the laptop. “Although Vegas is pretty far from New York.”
“Three time zones,” I said, staring at her mouth.
She licked her bottom lip. “And what happens in Vegas…”
“Stays in Vegas,” I finished, my voice lower.
She smiled in a way that made my pulse spike. “Just making sure we’re on the same page.”
I swallowed back a groan. “Morgan, we’re supposed to be taking this slow. Remember?”
“I do remember.” She tilted her head slightly, studying me. “But you’re the one who booked us a trip to Vegas.”
“For work,” I countered.
“Mm-hmm,” she said, clearly amused. “And I’m sure you were thinking very professional thoughts when you considered that both of us would be going.”
I had been. Mostly. The fact that it would mean several days of seeing her outside of the office, working closely together, maybe finding moments alone—that had been entirely coincidental. At least, that’s what I was telling myself.
“I was thinking about the product launch,” I said.
“Sure you were.” She rolled her eyes playfully, but her smile was soft and affectionate.
“I’m serious,” I insisted, though I couldn’t hide my grin.
“I believe you.” She was trying not to laugh now. “You’re very serious. Very focused on work.”
“I am.”
“So focused that you couldn’t pay attention during my presentation this morning?” she pointed out with a triumphant gleam in her eyes.
I opened my mouth. Closed it. She had me there.
Her smile widened. “That’s what I thought.”
I narrowed my gaze, just a bit. “You’re enjoying this.”
“Maybe a little.” She exhaled a breath that wasn’t quite steady. “Actually, it’s nice to know I’m not the only one who’s distracted.”
“You’re distracted?” I asked, even though I could see it in her eyes. The same desire I felt.
“Completely.” Her voice softened. “I spent all of Sunday thinking about Saturday night.”
Heat spread through me at the admission, the memory of her in my lap making my dick twitch very inappropriately considering where we were. “Yeah?” I had to work to keep my voice steady and my hands to myself.
“Yeah.” She bit her bottom lip, and I had to force myself not to stare at her mouth. “And then I came to work this morning determined to be professional and focus on the launch, and you were sitting across from me at this conference table looking at me like…”
“Like what?” I asked, stepping closer without meaning to.
“Like you wanted to do very unprofessional things.”
I didn’t bother denying it. “Would it help if I apologized?”
“Not really,” she said with a small, warm smile. “Because I was having the same unprofessional thoughts.”
We stood there, the space between us charged with everything we weren’t saying. Everything we were trying not to do. Yet the emotional undercurrent felt solid, like we were both invested in exploring this carefully. Together.
I exhaled a deep breath. “This slow thing is going to be harder than I thought,” I admitted.
“For me, too. But, I think it’s the right call. We should figure out what this is before we…you know.” She gestured vaguely, her expression a mix of amusement and sincerity.
“Jump back into my car for another make-out session?” I suggested, keeping it light, but the heated memory flashed between us.
Her cheeks flushed pink once again. “Something like that.”
“For the record,” I said quietly. “I’m very interested in figuring out what this is.”
“Good.” Her smile turned genuine, less teasing. More real. “Because so am I.”
She headed for the door and I watched her go, trying not to notice the way her skirt hugged her curves—her ass, especially.
Then she was gone, leaving me standing there with a smile I couldn’t quite get rid of, along with the unsettling, impossible to ignore feeling that I was already in deeper than I’d planned.
* * *
The next two weeks blurred into a steady rhythm of deadlines, strategy meetings, and long nights in the office.
The charger launch was picking up speed, CES planning was in full swing—booth designs approved, demo units prepped, and travel logistics sorted for the team—and somehow, despite the chaos, things with Morgan felt easy and natural.
We hadn’t crossed any lines since that night in my car, not even a kiss, but the flirting hadn’t stopped and it felt suspiciously like…
dating. I liked getting to know her piece by piece in her established environment.
Learning all those small, intimate details about her, a person that I genuinely liked—what made her laugh, what fired her creativity, watching how she talked with her hands when she got excited about something.
Those light-hearted, playful moments threaded through our days.
She’d roll her eyes when I triple-checked meeting times.
I’d tease her about her obsession with color-coded spreadsheets.
She’d pretend not to be affected when I leaned over her shoulder to look at her computer screen so she could show me one of her graphs.
One morning, she’d complimented me on my tie with a sexy gleam in her eyes, and I spent the rest of the day trying not to imagine her tugging on it.
The sexual tension was there, simmering just beneath the surface of every conversation, every shared laugh, every moment our eyes met across the office or the conference table.
There was something about the way she’d show up at my office door in the morning with coffee, knowing exactly how I liked it.
The way we’d debate marketing strategies and product features, and how she would call me out when my ideas were too over the top and unrealistic.
The way she’d stay late at night at the office just because I was working, sharing a take-out meal with me, even though she could have gone home hours ago.
It felt like we were building something between us.
Laying a foundation that could actually hold weight in the real world.
And I wanted that. I wanted to take her out to a romantic dinner.
Wanted to walk her home and kiss her goodnight at her door.
I wanted to do this the right way—slow and intentional, proving that this wasn’t just about our physical attraction, as tempting as that was.
But there was no opportunity. Between everything moving at a swift pace at GalvaTech and Simon needing my time and advice on hammering out the final details of the Stark, Inc.
investment—which required endless calls, negotiations over equity shares, and due diligence that ate into every spare minute—my days were stretched impossibly thin.
But things between myself and Morgan seemed solid and all that flirty banter, the shared looks and inside jokes, was creating this delicious sexual tension that made every interaction electric, like a slow burn promising so much more once we finally let it ignite.
It was only a matter of time before it did. Because somehow, I felt myself falling deeper into whatever this was becoming between us.
Thanksgiving slipped by in the midst of it all.
I spent the day with my family, the usual chaos of a turkey dinner and football and playing with my nieces.
Even then, my mind kept drifting back to Morgan, wondering how her holiday went and fighting the urge to text her something flirty that might blur our self-imposed lines.
We were back in the office after the long weekend, hitting the ground running refining prototypes, getting marketing strategies locked in, and signing off on vendor contracts.
The pace was relentless, but necessary. CES was approaching, the launch calendar was tight, and every department was grinding hard to make sure nothing slipped through the cracks.
Mid-week, I called Parker and Samuel into a meeting to discuss a decision I’d made.
As we settled around the conference table, I couldn’t help noticing that Parker looked ragged. His expression was pale, and he seemed quieter and more withdrawn. I could only assume that his back pain was acting up again.
“I won’t keep you two long,” I said, glancing between the two men, and got right to business. “I want to increase the budget for marketing.”
To my surprise, Parker frowned, the crease between his brows sharp and immediate. “I don’t think we should make that a priority right now,” he muttered, his tone edged with irritation as he picked at his fingernails.
Samuel blinked at Parker, just as thrown as I was by Parker’s unexpected objection. “Why not, son?”
Parker hesitated before answering. “Because the manufacturing costs are already massive, and it’s not the right time to throw more money at marketing.”
“The money I’ve invested should be enough to cover the manufacturing and the increase in the marketing budget,” I pointed out, then went on to justify my reasons.
“Industry research shows that competitors are pouring money into visibility. If GalvaTech doesn’t invest now, they risk becoming invisible in a sector where early brand recognition and consumer awareness is everything.
I want GalvaTech positioned as a front-runner, not a quiet newcomer. ”
“That makes sense,” Samuel said, supporting my idea.
Parker’s eyes shifted away from me, jaw flexing once before he clamped down on whatever else he wanted to say.
Unease curled in my stomach, not enough to call him out, but enough to make me pay attention.
I didn’t know him well enough to understand the sudden pushback, or the tension rolling off him in waves.
Still, he didn’t argue further, and right now, that was what mattered. We had a product to launch, and I needed him aligned and working with me, not against me, so we could make this launch a success.
The meeting wrapped quickly after that. Parker practically bolted for the door. I rose to leave as well, but Samuel’s hand landed gently on my arm to stop me.
“I want to thank you for all that you’re doing for the company,” he said with a warm, fatherly smile.
“I can feel us moving closer to success every day. I also wanted to invite you to my home for a dinner party this Saturday with the family. My wife, Faith, would love to meet you. GalvaTech has always been a family business, and now that you’ve invested your time and money into it, I guess that makes you an honorary member. ”
He chuckled, and I was touched by the thoughtfulness of his invitation. Most of the other companies I’d worked with kept things formal and transactional, and I appreciated the way he valued me as part of the company.
“I’d love to come to dinner,” I said.
Samuel smiled again, genuine and grateful, and as I walked out, I realized I wasn’t just invested in GalvaTech anymore. I was invested in the people. In Morgan. Maybe more than I should be.