Chapter 5 Tessa #2
I had dismissed it as post-orgasmic sentiment, the type of promise men made in heated moments but never intended to keep.
Tessa 4:31 PM: Lucian, we both know that was a unique situation.
Lucian 4:31 PM: Was it? Because I've been thinking about you every day since then.
The confession made a zing of arousal shoot to my already aching core, and I stood and walked to my kitchen window, looking out at the Brooklyn street below.
A few pedestrians hurried past, bundled against the January cold, their breath visible in small clouds. This was insane. I was nuts for even entertaining this.
It could be considered sexual harassment… But I didn't think it was. Not yet, at least. I hadn’t directly told him to stop, so maybe he would stop if I put my foot down. But did I really want him to?
Tessa 4:34 PM: You're my boss. You're twice my age. This is complicated.
Before I could set my phone down, it began ringing. His name appeared on the screen, and my pulse quickened.
Answering would cross another line, move us further from the professional relationship we were supposed to maintain and closer to something wildly inappropriate that would jeopardize my entire plan.
But I answered anyway with, "Lucian," except it came out as a whine of reluctant protest.
"Tessa." His voice was warm, intimate too.
"I thought we were texting."
"Texting has its limitations. I wanted to hear your voice." He paused. "Like the way you moaned my name that night."
Heat flooded my cheeks at the memory of how his hands had mapped my body, the sound he had made when I touched him, the way he had looked at me afterward as if I had surprised him. Just hearing that he wanted to hear my voice did that to me. What would seeing him do?
"That was…" I struggled for words that wouldn't diminish what had happened but also wouldn't give it more weight than I could handle.
"Incredible," he finished. "That was incredible. And the fact that you haven't told me to stop messaging you tells me you thought so too."
The observation was accurate and uncomfortable. I could have blocked his number and made it clear that personal contact was unwelcome. But I hadn't.
"It's not that simple."
"Why not? We're both adults. We're both single. We're attracted to each other."
"Because you're twenty-two years older than me—my boss— and because people will assume the worst about both of us if they find out." I leaned hard against the window sill and stared through the frost at the falling snowflakes.
"And those are all valid concerns," he acknowledged. "But they're not insurmountable obstacles. I think my reputation can handle whatever gossip comes our way. And as for your career, you're brilliant at what you do. Anyone who questions your capabilities based on your personal life is an idiot."
The compliment warmed me. In the past four weeks, he had been praising my work more openly, giving me responsibilities that stretched beyond typical assistant duties.
Part of me wondered if it was connected to what had happened between us, but a larger part recognized that I had been earning those opportunities through competence and dedication.
"You don't understand what it's been like for me at Cross Capital. I've worked twice as hard as anyone else to prove I belong there. If people think I'm sleeping my way up the ladder…"
"Then they don't know you at all." His voice carried an edge of anger that surprised me. "You've earned every recognition you've received. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise."
The conviction in his tone made something tight in my chest loosen slightly.
I had spent so many years fighting to be seen as capable, to be taken seriously, that having someone acknowledge my efforts felt revolutionary.
"Even if that's true, the age difference…"
"What about it? You think men your age know what you need?
You think they understand what drives you, what you're building toward?
" He paused, and I could hear the confidence in his voice when he continued.
"I see who you are, Tessa. I see your ambition, your intelligence, your strength.
Most men your age would be intimidated by that. I find it irresistible."
My breath caught at the raw honesty in his words. The men I had dated before had often seemed uncomfortable with my career focus, had made comments about my intensity or suggested I needed to relax more.
Lucian spoke about my ambition as if it were an asset rather than a flaw.
"This is dangerous territory," I whispered.
"The best things usually are." His voice dropped lower. "I want to see you. Tonight."
Electricity jolted through my nervous system. "Lucian…"
"Not for business. I want to cook for you. I want to talk to you without worrying about who might overhear. I want to see if what happened between us was real or if we both imagined it."
The offer was tempting and terrifying at the same time. Going to his penthouse would mean acknowledging that whatever was building between us was worth exploring. It would mean stepping away from the careful boundaries I had constructed around my life.
"This could go very wrong very quickly."
"Or it could go very right." His voice carried a note of challenge. "You know what I think? I think you're scared."
His accusation stung with its accuracy. "Maybe I am."
"Good. That means it means something to you too."
I closed my eyes and tried to summon the practical voice that usually guided my decisions, but it seemed to have abandoned me.
"The best things in life all started out as sketchy ideas," he continued. "If you take no risks, you don't know where life may lead you."
The philosophy was so different from my own careful approach to everything, so foreign to the way I had planned every step of my future.
But the little thrill I got every time I thought of taking a risk with him made me so excited, I had a hard time using rational judgment.
"I'll send a car," he said before I could respond. "If you get in and come to my house, we'll take the risk together. If you don't, I'll never bring it up again."
The line went dead, leaving me staring at my phone in the sudden silence of my apartment. Mochi opened both eyes and stared up at me, seeming to sense the shift in the room's energy, and the flashing
Christmas lights on the arched doorway drew my attention upward where mistletoe still hung there. What the heck was I doing even considering this?
I looked at the research folder, at the calculated timeline that would lead me to motherhood on my own terms.
Then I looked at my phone, where Lucian's challenge waited for an answer I wasn't sure I was brave enough to give.