Chapter 15
Evelyn
Walk of Shame
My palms were damp as I walked the hallway toward his office. Each step felt like a sentence being written for me. My heels clicked against the polished floor—sharp, accusatory, like judgment echoing down the corridor.
I hated that he had this effect on me. Hated that my breath caught at the mere thought of him. Hated that I could still taste his mouth, still feel the way he whispered my name like he was sinning just by speaking it.
I knocked. Once.
“Come in,” he said. Calm. Controlled. Criminally composed.
The air thickened the moment I entered, like the room itself recognized him as the apex predator.
He stood behind his desk—towering, unreadable, lethal in a tailored suit that made breathing a conscious effort.
“Miss Hart,” he said slowly, circling the desk like he had nowhere to be but everywhere inside my head. “I trust HR delivered the news?”
I nodded. “Yes, sir.” Sir. The word cracked. Bitter. Acidic. I heard the taste of it in my own voice. So did he. His eyes flickered—dark heat, sharp attention—before smoothing over again. “I’m here to work,” I added, spine straight. “Nothing more.”
He stepped closer. I refused to move. But my pulse roared so loud I was certain he could hear it. “You really think you can forget Saturday night?” he asked quietly.
“I already have.”
A lie.
A desperate, throat-tightening lie.
He didn’t believe it. Of course he didn’t. His voice dropped to a murmur. “You’re not here by accident, Evelyn. I chose you. You earned this.”
A pause, heavy and deliberate. A trap with velvet walls. “Unless you’d like to decline the position… and explain to HR why?”
Heat surged into my face. He was baiting me. Daring me. And my body betrayed me with every breath—still aching from him, still remembering too much.
“I will accept this position,” I said sharply, lifting my chin. “In fact, thank you very much. But let’s make one thing clear right now—I'm not in this position because I slept with you. I’m in this position because you saw my potential. And what happened Saturday night will NEVER happen again.”
His smile was dark. Too sharp. Too knowing. “You can keep pretending it meant nothing,” he said softly, “but we both know you didn’t come that hard from a lack of feelings, Evelyn.”
Heat shot up my neck. Rage tangled with shame and something traitorous—want.
He took another slow, deliberate step, circling behind the desk, then around it, then toward me.
A hunter closing distance. “You’re in this position,” he said, stopping directly in front of me, “because I don’t share what’s mine. And I’ve already had a taste.”
My breath stalled. My pulse skidded. “Then I won’t accept the position,” I shot back, even as my voice wavered.
He didn’t flinch. “Wrong answer. “His voice dropped an octave—low, dangerous, intimate. “I don’t need to threaten you. I don’t need to force anything. You don’t get to crawl into my bed, cry my name, then pretend you’re not tangled in this.”
Fury surged beneath my ribs. “That’s called blackmail. And you can’t do that—it’s illegal.”
He leaned in, lips curving like sin, voice hot on my skin. “I’m not blackmailing you, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I’m not threatening your job. I’m offering you a place no one else gets—by my side.”
His breath brushed my neck as he moved behind me, the air shifting, the space shrinking. “Don’t mistake protection,” he whispered near my ear, “for possession… unless you’re ready to find out how much of you I already own.”
My knees nearly buckled. I jumped to my feet. “And if I say I just want my old position?”
He didn’t move. “You can ask for it,” he said simply. “But do you really think you can go back to blending into the background?”
Then he planted his hands on the desk—caging me between his body and the polished wood. “After I’ve had you?”
His voice razor-sharp. “After I’ve tasted you?” He leaned in, a breath’s distance from my mouth. “You don’t get to rewrite history because it scares you.”
My breath trembled.
“And don’t lie to me about wanting to blend in,” he whispered.
“You didn’t blend when you screamed my name.” His eyes locked onto mine, molten. “Trembling under my mouth.”
My heart slammed so hard it hurt.
“You can deny me, Evelyn,” he said, voice soft as velvet and sharp as a blade. “But don’t you dare deny yourself.”