Chapter 11
Laura
I arrive at the office to find Dallas already immersed in paperwork. Dark circles hung under his eyes, and his usual impeccable grooming was slightly unkempt.
“Rough night?” I ask gently.
He blink up at me, eyes clouded with pain for a moment before he schooled his features into their usual stern mask. “I’m fine. Just have a lot of work to get through.”
I hesitate, then say, “I know it’s not my place, but if there’s anything you want to talk about...I’m here to listen.”
For a long moment, he is silent. Then, gaze fixes on the papers in front of him, he speaks in a low voice.
“Today would have been my wife’s birthday.” He swallows hard.
My heart aches for him. I can’t imagine losing someone so close, especially not after so long together. “I’m so sorry,” I say.
“She was.” Dallas’s eyes shone with tears for a brief second before he blinks them back. “Strong, kindhearted, brilliant. She made me want to be a better man.” He sighs, shaking his head. “I’m afraid I haven’t been doing a very good job of that lately.”
“You’re too hard on yourself,” I say. “Grief is difficult, and it’s a process. Be patient with yourself.”
For the first time, Dallas offers me a small, sad smile. “Wise words. Thank you, Laura. Your kindness means a lot.”
My cheeks warm at the unexpected praise. I smile back, hoping to offer him some comfort. “You’re welcome. And if you ever want to talk about her, I’m here.”
He nods, gaze softening. “I appreciate that.”
All day, I can’t stop thinking about our conversation. Dallas’s raw honesty and grief has struck a chord deep within me, and I worry about him. He seemed so alone, so lost.
After that, a new ease and camaraderie develops between us. Dallas spent his childhood in Spain. He has a love of classic literature, and his dream of one day retiring to a villa in Tuscany. In turn, I share details of my life, my hopes, and my dreams.
My gaze drifts to Mr. De La Cruz’s office, where he is pacing and gesturing wildly while talking on the phone. His sharp, angular features are creased in a frown, but then he glances up and catches me watching him. For a moment, his stern expression softens into something warmer, almost fond.
I jerk my eyes away, heat flooding my cheeks. What is that about? My heart races as I rifle through the files without seeing them.
Ever since I start as Mr. De La Cruz’s assistant, he’s been brusque and demanding. But I noticed these little changes—the way his voice is gentler when he speaks to me, how he squeezes my shoulder in passing. And those looks, like the one he just gave me.
My thoughts spin in circles until a sharp knock on my desk makes me jump. Mr. De La Cruz looms over me, brow furrowed in concern. “Are you feeling alright, Miss Stevens? You seem distracted.”
“Just tired, Mr. De La Cruz,” I say, hoping my voice didn’t shake.
“In that case, let’s go to lunch.” He straightens, glancing out the window with a frown. “You work too hard. It’s important to take breaks.”
Panic and longing war within me. Spending time with him outside of work will only make my feelings more complicated. But when he looks at me with those dark, fathomless eyes, I find myself saying yes before I can stop myself.
This is a terrible idea. But as Mr. De La Cruz guides me into the busy restaurant, his hand a warm pressure on my back, I can’t bring myself to regret it.
The maitre d’ seats us in a secluded corner booth, lit by the soft glow of a stained glass lamp. Looking around at the other patrons leaning close together, speaking in hushed tones, my face grows warm. This is meant to be an intimate setting.
Mr. De La Cruz didn’t seem to notice my discomfort. He sits back with a contented sigh, studying the menu. “Everything here is excellent. I hope you’ll allow me to choose for you?”
“Please do,” I say, pulse racing. How am I going to make it through this meal?
After ordering a bottle of red wine and two plates of osso buco, Mr. De La Cruz sets the menu aside—and looks at me. My mouth goes dry under the intensity of his gaze. “I’m glad we could do this, Laura. I’ve been wanting to spend time with you outside the office for a while now.”
He wants to spend time with me. The words echo in my mind, and I clutch my napkin to hide their trembling. “R-really?” I manage. “Why?”
A slow smile spreads across his face. “Because I find you fascinating,” he says. “And I think we have a connection that goes deeper than a working relationship.”
My heart stutters. This can’t be happening. But the warmth in his eyes tells me it is all too real.
“Ever since you came to work for me, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.” He reaches across the table, covering my hand with his. “I want to get to know you better, Laura—not as my assistant, but as something more.”
I stare at our joined hands, a storm of emotions churning inside me. Surprise. Confusion. A dangerous flutter of excitement I didn’t dare acknowledge.
When I find my voice, it comes out breathless. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you feel the same way about me.” His thumb traces slow circles on the back of my hand, sending tingles up my arm. “That there’s something here worth exploring.”
His touch, his words—they unravel my composure until I’m utterly exposed. Vulnerable. And though alarm bells are ringing in my mind, warning me of the perils of a relationship with my boss, I can’t deny the connection.
I offer him a hesitant smile, my cheeks flushing hot. “I—it’s complicated.”
“Why?” He leans closer, his eyes searching mine. “We’re both single, we’re attracted to each other. What’s so complicated?”
“You’re my boss.” I pull my hand from his grasp, losing contact, bringing a strange ache. “If we started something romantic, and it didn’t work out, it could get messy.”
“I understand your concern.” His expression softens. “But I don’t want you to think of me as just your boss anymore, Laura. When I’m with you, I feel happier and lighter than I have in years.” He gives a self-deprecating chuckle. “I suppose you could say you bring out the best in me.”
“I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make this work, if you’ll give me a chance.” He leans closer still, his breath warm against my cheek. “Will you take that chance, Laura? Will you take a chance on me?”
My heart swells at the tenderness in his tone, the vulnerability etched into the lines of his face. He is putting himself on the line for me, and I want, more than anything in that moment, to say yes.
But doubts creep in. What if we fight, and he fires me in a fit of anger? What will people at the office say about me sleeping my way to the top? I worked too hard to get where I am to throw it all away on a fleeting romance.
“I’m afraid this could end badly for me.” I avert my gaze, staring at the white tablecloth. “If we break up, I could lose my job. People might think the only reason I got promoted was because we were together.”
“I would never fire you out of spite.” He places his hand over mine, the warmth of his touch chasing away my doubts. “And anyone who thinks you didn’t earn your position through hard work and skill alone isn’t worth listening to. You know that.”
I want to believe him. But can I risk everything I have worked for on the chance we might find happiness together? If it didn’t work out, will the heartbreak be worth the memories we might make?
My heart and head re at war, desire battling with reason, longing with logic. In the end, the choice comes down to whether or not I will take a leap of faith.
Did I dare?
I look up, meeting his gaze. The warmth in his eyes nearly undid my resolve, but I steel myself. This isn’t about what I want - it is about what is best for my career, my future.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “But I can’t. Not now.”
His hand tightens around mine. “Why not?”
I sigh. “You’re my boss. If we pursue a relationship and it ends badly, it could damage my career. I’ve worked too hard to get where I am.”
“I understand.” He releases my hand, the loss of contact like a physical ache. “I want what’s best for you. Even if that means...”
“I care about you,” I say. “But I have to put my career first. I hope you can understand.”
“Of course I do.” But the smile he gives me didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re one of the most pragmatic and level-headed people I know. I shouldn’t have expected anything less.”
He pays the bill and walks me back to the office, the comfortable silence now strained. We part with a stiff nod, the memory of what might have been hanging between us.
I did make the right choice, the responsible choice. But that didn’t make the longing in my heart hurt any less. The future is unclear, but one thing is certain - nothing between us will ever be the same again.