Chapter 6
JAMESON
Monday morning hit different when you’d spent the weekend falling for someone you shouldn’t have touched in the first place.
I’d been at my desk since six-thirty, staring at spreadsheets I wasn’t actually reading, my mind replaying the weekend on a loop.
The way Sutton had looked, seated on that table.
The sound of her laugh over breakfast. How she’d curled into me on the flight home, half-asleep, her head on my shoulder like it belonged there.
Every moment was burned into my memory in perfect detail.
But now, sitting in my office with the fluorescent lights humming and Monday stretching out ahead of me, reality was a cold slap to the face. She was my employee. I was her boss. There were policies. Power dynamics. A dozen different ways this could blow up in both our faces.
What the hell had I been thinking?
The answer, of course, was that I hadn’t been thinking. Not with my brain, anyway. I’d been so caught up in her—in the way she made me feel alive again, like I had a purpose beyond quarterly earnings and investor calls—that I’d ignored every red flag waving frantically in my peripheral vision.
And now I had to face her in a staff meeting and pretend everything was normal.
I dragged a hand through my hair, my stomach churning.
We hadn’t talked about what happens next.
Hadn’t discussed whether this was a one-time thing or something more.
I’d kissed her goodbye at her apartment door, watched her disappear inside, and then spent the entire sleepless night wondering if I’d just ruined everything.
What if she regretted it?
What if she walked into the office today and realized sleeping with her boss was a colossal mistake?
What if I’d taken advantage of the situation—the fancy hotel, the private jet, the whole romantic setup—and she’d felt pressured?
The thought made me feel sick.
The reminder that flashed on my phone seemed to taunt me. Monday morning team meeting—nine a.m. I grabbed my laptop and headed for the conference room, my tie feeling too tight around my neck.
The team was already gathering when I walked in. Monique was showing Derek something on her phone. A couple of the junior developers were grabbing coffee from the carafe in the corner.
And then Sutton walked in. My breath caught.
She looked professional. Hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail. Crisp white blouse. Black slacks. Heels that clicked purposefully against the floor. She carried a leather portfolio under one arm and her phone in the other hand, scrolling through something with a focused expression.
She looked up, saw me, and gave a polite nod.
A polite nod. Like I was just her boss. Like we hadn’t spent the weekend exploring every inch of each other’s bodies. Like she hadn’t whispered my name in the dark and left marks on my shoulders with her nails.
My stomach dropped to the floor.
She took a seat across from me—her usual spot—and pulled out her notebook. Flipped it open. Clicked her pen. All business. She didn’t smile. Didn’t give me any sign that the weekend had meant anything.
I tried to catch her eye, but she was studiously focused on her notes, writing something in the margin like it was the most important thing in the world.
Fuck.
“Morning, everyone,” I said, my voice coming out rougher than intended. I cleared my throat. “Let’s get started.”
I pulled up the analytics dashboard on the screen at the front of the room, trying to focus on the numbers instead of the sinking feeling in my gut.
“I want to start by thanking Sutton for her incredible work this weekend,” I said, forcing myself to sound professional. “The Home and Hearth Holiday Expo was a massive success.”
A few people glanced at Sutton. She gave a small, professional smile and nodded.
Professional. That word again. It was killing me.
“Our download numbers are up three hundred percent since Friday,” I continued, clicking to the next slide. “Social media engagement has tripled. And this—“ I pulled up a video post from a lifestyle blogger. “This demo from Saturday has over two million views and climbing.”
The room erupted in excited chatter. Monique was practically bouncing in her seat. Derek looked genuinely impressed for the first time since I’d hired him.
“This is exactly the momentum we needed heading into the new year,” I said. “Great work, everyone. Sutton, do you want to walk us through the social media strategy going forward?”
She stood, moving to the front of the room with that same polished confidence she’d had all weekend. But there was a distance to it now. A wall between us that hadn’t been there two days ago.
She talked about engagement metrics and influencer partnerships and holiday content calendars. She was brilliant, articulate, and completely in her element.
And she didn’t look at me once. Not once.
My chest felt tight. My hands were clenched under the table. I’d screwed this up. Somehow, between last night and this morning, I’d lost her.
Maybe she’d woken up and realized what a mistake it had been. Maybe she’d talked to her roommates and they’d convinced her this was a bad idea. Maybe she was already planning her exit strategy, looking for a new job, counting down the days until she could get away from me.
The thought made me want to put my fist through the wall.
“Any questions?” Sutton asked, wrapping up her presentation.
A few hands went up. She fielded them with ease, never once glancing my way.
“Great,” I said when she finished, my voice flat. “Thanks, Sutton. That’s all for today, everyone. Get back to it.”
Chairs scraped. People gathered their things. The usual post-meeting buzz filled the room as everyone filed out.
Sutton packed up her portfolio, still not looking at me.
This was it. She was going to walk out that door, and I was going to have to figure out how to work with someone I’d fallen for over a single weekend. Someone who clearly didn’t feel the same way.
I started gathering my things, my jaw clenched so tight it ached.
And then she was there. Right beside me—so close, I could smell that cinnamon-vanilla scent that had been driving me crazy for weeks.
She leaned in, her lips brushing my ear. “I can’t wait to get you alone tonight.”
Every muscle in my body locked. My head whipped toward her, and she was already pulling back, but not before I caught the hint of mischief dancing in those green eyes.
She’d been playing it cool and professional in front of the team. Smart. Protecting both of us from office gossip and awkward questions. But that whisper—that promise—told me everything I needed to know.
Relief hit me so hard and fast, I almost laughed. Instead, I just stared at her, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“Seven o’clock,” I said, my voice low enough that no one else could hear. “My place. Don’t be late.”
Her smile was pure sunshine. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
She turned and walked toward the door, and I couldn’t help watching the sway of her hips, the confidence in her stride.
Just before she disappeared into the hallway, she glanced back over her shoulder. The look she gave me was pure heat, full of promise, and it sent fire straight through my veins.
The door closed behind her, and I stood there in the empty conference room, alone with my thoughts. I’d been terrified. Convinced I’d ruined everything. But she wasn’t pulling away.
She was all in.
The realization settled over me like warmth, chasing away every doubt that had plagued me all morning. This woman—this brilliant, passionate, surprising woman—wasn’t just a weekend fling. She wasn’t a mistake or a complication. She was my future.
She’d reminded me why I built things in the first place.
Not for money or recognition or to prove something to the people who’d screwed me over, but to make a difference.
To create something meaningful. To connect with people in a way that mattered.
She’d given me back my star quality—the vision and idealism I thought I’d lost forever.
And tonight, I was going to start doing this right. Real dates. Taking our time. Building something that mattered, not just in the bedroom but everywhere else too.
I smiled—a real, genuine smile that felt unfamiliar on my face. It had been years since I’d smiled like this. Years since I’d felt this kind of hope. But Sutton did that to me. She made me believe in possibilities again.
I grabbed my laptop and headed back to my office, already planning what I’d cook for dinner. Something impressive but not pretentious. Something that would make her laugh and relax and feel like this thing between us could actually work.
When I glanced at my phone again, a text from Sutton lit up the screen. You looked like you were going to have a heart attack in that meeting. Did you really think I was going to ghost you after this weekend?
I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped.
Me: The thought crossed my mind.
Sutton: For a billionaire genius, you’re kind of an idiot sometimes.
Me: I’m aware.
Sutton: Good. See you at seven. And Jameson?
Me: Yeah?
Sutton: Wear something comfortable. I plan to take my time with you tonight.
Heat flooded through me, and I had to adjust myself in my pants like a damn teenager. This woman was going to be the death of me. And I couldn’t wait.