The ride home was lonely and terrifying. Thoughts raced through my head; outcomes that ranged anywhere from Silver sneaking into bed with me when she got home, to outright firing me for putting us at risk.

I hadn't done anything wrong. It wasn't like I'd invited Nico. I hadn't crafted the guest-list, only verified it.

It was my fault that I hadn't spotted him on said list, though.

In the car, I pulled up the document on my phone and reviewed it several times but didn't find his name. Had he used a pseudonym? Or had he made his way in without an invitation?

I couldn't quite ask him without exposing myself.

At the penthouse, I disrobed and scrubbed my face and got into bed, but I kept the light on. Not like I was able to sleep, anyway. Not with all those rummaging, destructive thoughts in my mind. Not when I had no clue what Silver would do, what she had done at the opening after I left.

Had she spoken to anyone? Had she spoken to Nico? I hadn't pointed him out, so she wouldn't know who he was.

Then again, she'd somehow known I'd gone for coffee with him and Sophia. Maybe she had someone tailing me, watching me in my downtime. Maybe she had pictures—

"Quit it, Eden," I said to myself, turning onto my side for a better view of my bedroom door. I'd left it ajar, implying Silver was free to enter whenever she came home, if she wanted to talk.

She didn't. Hours later, I heard her heels clacking up the stairs, but she didn't pause in the hallway, didn't approach my room. Instead, she went straight to her own quarters and slammed the door. The walls rattled in the wake of her anger.

I hesitated to get up and go knock on her door, to ask to be let in. We could yell, vent our frustrations, maybe snuggle, maybe fuck, despite how wrong that was. Sex relieved tension, we both knew that. We both needed that.

But she was too peeved. That, or she was too drunk and didn't want to take risks. Or she wasn't alone. Maybe she'd brought someone home, someone legal, to keep her company, to tame her rage at the situation—

"No," I said, switching off my light. "She wouldn't do that."

But in reality, I didn't know what Silver would do. I didn't really know Silver.

***

The next day, as I grabbed coffee from downstairs, hair still wet from my shower, I got a text from Silver.

Silver: My office. Now.

This was bad.

I finished adding creamer and took the mug upstairs with me, though I wasn't sure I'd get to finish it. Something told me she'd ask me to pack my shit and leave, that I was fired, that all this was over.

Not that I'd done anything to deserve it, but she was the boss, after all. She held my very future in her perfectly manicured hands. But her every word made me drool, and her scent haunted me at night.

And it wasn't allowed.

"Silver?" I entered the office, holding the door. "Open or closed?"

"Open," she said, not looking up from where she typed at her desk.

Not a good sign.

She snapped at me. "We have a lot of work to do."

"Work?" I hadn't meant to say it out loud, but the word spilled from my mouth, nonetheless.

What did she mean? Why were we working? I thought I'd been about to get a talking to, a demotion, a letter to sign saying I was out of a job.

But she wanted me to work?

"Yeah?" She glanced up at last, one eyebrow arched. Her eyes were tired, her lips thinned, her expression not unkind, but certainly not pleased to see me. "Is that not what you're here for?"

"I, uh," I fidgeted in the threshold, interlacing my fingers, "I thought that..."

Silver set her hands on the desk and stood up, staring me down, her monotone suit pressed to her perfect body. "You thought what? That you were off the hook? We have a contract, Eden, and I'm not done with you yet."

I frowned as I timidly took a few steps towards my desk. She'd turned my computer on, and stacked papers near my keyboard.

"I thought I was in trouble."

She peered away, releasing a huff. "You're not. Sit," she gestured at my chair as she sat back on her own, "and weed through those reviews."

Reviews. That wasn't something she'd asked me to do before.

I took my seat, logged into all my usual applications for the day, and grabbed the first sheet of paper.

These were reviews from last night's store opening. Printed from Yelp, Google, all sorts of websites.

When had Silver found the time to do this? And shouldn't I have been the one to take over this tedious task, from start to finish?

I looked over at her, but she'd already gotten into work-mode, oblivious to me ogling her. I opened my mouth to ask for further instructions, but then noticed she'd sent me an email, instead.

Wow, she didn't want to talk to me, did she?

She said I wasn't in trouble, yet she punished me all the same.

The email was cold, blunt. No opening, no signature.

Read the reviews. Organize them based on how many stars. Type up in an Excel sheet and send it to me.

That was it. No please, no thank you, no further information.

She was the boss, and today she was exerting her power without scruple.

I wiggled my fingers and started diving through the papers.

To my pleasant surprise, a majority of reviews were five stars. Comfortable atmosphere, delightful collection of clothes, interesting array of colors and shapes and sizes. One three-star review criticized the finger-foods—which weren't what they were supposed to review, since this was about the store itself.

The handful of one- and two-star reviews took me aback. They were pitiful comments about the stupidest stuff, such as the hue of the shelves, the types of hangers used, the brand of paint lathered on the walls. Silly things that made no sense to critique, but I supposed some people had a more analytical eye.

I couldn't help but search for something from Nico. Every time I checked the email address or handle of whoever had left the comment, I wondered if I'd spot him.

But if he had reviewed, he'd kept it anonymous.

For the first few hours, Silver didn't say another word to me. She didn't even look at me; and I'd know, because I kept looking at her. I remained discreet in the beginning, not wanting to trigger her. But eventually I quit trying to hide and glanced at her with all my might, psychically communicating with her.

Begging her to see me, acknowledge me, talk to me.

The energy in the room wasn't sexually tense, as usual. It was just...tense. Teetering on angry, disappointed.

She claimed I'd done no wrong, but she was still giving me the silent treatment. I wanted to understand why.

Silver was jittery, drinking copious amounts of water, rarely removing her gaze from her computer screen. Whenever she did, it was to check her phone, or open a drawer and fiddle with its contents, or jot something down on a Post-it.

"Silver," I said, breaking the awkward quiet between us. I couldn't handle the discomfort; it prevented me from focusing on my tasks.

"Yeah?" She didn't draw her gaze away from her computer, though her typing slowed down.

"Silver," I tapped a finger on my desk, "please, would you stop ignoring me?"

"I'm not ignoring you." Her typing grew frantic, exaggerated. "I'm working, as you should be."

I picked up the heavy stack of paper reviews and then released it, letting it thump onto the desk. That garnered a mild shudder from her. Some attention, at last.

"I'm done sorting, and sent you the Excel sheet." I sat up straight in my seat and crossed my arms. "And before I start on some other mind-numbing task, I'd like to know what's going on."

She squinted at the screen, nodded. "Got it, thanks."

"Silver?" I raised my voice, knowing full-well the danger in irking her more. "Are you listening?"

She whipped her neck in my direction, her eyes sharp as knives. "I'll send you your next mind-numbing task in a moment."

"What's the matter?" I grimaced, shaking my head as she maintained my gaze.

"We're swamped and can't get distracted," she said, not once softening her expression, not a single slither of caring or compassion in her voice.

Something had happened to her overnight. Or at the party. Or both. Something to make her hate me? Be disgusted by me? It was like she couldn't stand to be in the same room as me.

Then why bother summoning me here? Anything she needed done, I could do from my bedroom.

"It's more than that, and you know it," I dared, leaning forward, against my desk.

"Eden," she cautioned, returning to her screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

"Did I do something wrong? You said I wasn't in trouble, but," I swallowed, "shouldn't we talk about this?"

"About what?" she shot, her timbre taut like a whip lashing at my face. And it stung as such, too.

"Talk about why you're acting weird towards me?"

She scoffed, wrinkling her nose. "I'm not acting weird. I'm being professional."

I uttered a scoff of my own. "Oh, ignoring me is being professional?"

"Were you actively asking me questions, Eden? Were you trying to have a conversation with me?" She rolled her shoulders, closed her eyes, and sighed. "You were quiet, too. Busy working, I assumed. Or were you spending all this time thinking about me?"

I flushed, but I wasn't smiling. Sure, I was thinking of her, but not in the way she implied, for once.

I folded in on myself, melting into my chair. Whatever I'd done to deceive her, she had no intention of sharing it with me. No intention of giving me a chance to fix my mistake.

"Look." She released another sigh, this one deeper, breaking through her chilly facade. She slumped in her seat, similarly to how I was positioned in mine. "You didn't do anything wrong. This," she waved around her, "attitude of mine is a barrier of protection, okay?"

"Protection?" My eyebrows shot up. "Against...me?"

She set her elbows on her desk and joined her hands, bringing her mouth closer to them. "Not like that, Eden. Not against you, but against this. Us."

I sucked in my lips and focused on my lap. "Right. Us."

Of course, she was being cold and off-standish to block her desire for me. Because after everything, she was still attracted, still had to fight the urges she had towards me.

I'd know, because I felt the same way. Even as she glared at me, gave the impression she loathed every inch of me, I still wanted her. I still craved every inch of her body, willing it to press into me, fill me with warmth, with desire.

"I realized how foolish I've been. How risky all this is. Last night..." She brought her hands to her face, covering it. "It was a wake-up call, a scary one. To nearly bump into someone who knew you, who'd have recognized me, who might have outed our secret..."

"It was frightening," I said, in a near-whisper.

"Frightening, yeah. You," she lowered her hands enough to show her eyes, loaded with emotion, "are a wonderful fit for me, for my company. For business. But for me...no, we can't."

I chewed the insides of my cheeks, my body too weak to nod in acknowledgment. It felt like a break-up, though we'd never been anything more than a CEO and her employee who couldn't get enough of each other's bodies.

"I'm incredibly attracted to you, Eden." Her voice was soft, yet sensual. Poignant, yet so quiet, so...ashamed. "And intrigued by you. And it's a problem."

I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders, planting my feet on the ground, readying to stand up. "Do you need me to quit, then? If that's the only way—"

She smacked her desk. "No. You're not quitting. That'd only make things worse."

"Worse?" I set a hand on my chest, coaxing my heart into relaxing.

"Because you'd no longer be my assistant, which would mean you're legally available. And we're..." She flinched, tugged her lip between her teeth, and shivered as she glanced away. "We're not ready for that. It'd be...intense. Overwhelming. Explosive. And I need to focus on my company right now. I can't have a relationship."

"But if I'm here..." I clenched my fists, keeping them under the table so she wouldn't notice my frustration. "How can you focus?"

"I focus because you're here, Eden." She shrugged a hand through her hair. "Because, like I said, you're an asset to my company. You've been such a tremendous help since you got here. I need you to stay."

I need you to stay.

Her words anchored deep into me.

Stay.

I drew in small, heated breaths.

I need you.

"But," her strict tone tipped me back into reality, "I need us to be on our best behavior. For real, this time. Especially with all these events coming up."

Another store-opening, more galas, fashion shows, dinners—Silver's upcoming schedule was packed with public affairs we'd need to attend together.

The tension shifted, allowing us both to loosen up somewhat. With her confession released—she cared, but she couldn't care, and that was why she'd been so silent—we experienced some relief.

But I didn't get to enjoy it for long; Silver switched to being short, moody with me. "What almost happened last night? That was dangerous. And it can't happen again."

I jiggled the computer mouse, if anything to keep my shaky hand busy. "I know."

"Anything could have gone wrong," she said, her fingers curling as she pressed her palm to her desk. "We could have both been fucked."

Had Nico spotted us, made the connection, then talked, we'd have indeed been fucked. Silver and I's forbidden relationship would have destroyed us. Nico had no way of knowing how many times we'd been intimate, but if he shared what he knew with the media, and it prompted an investigation...

"He wouldn't have talked," I said, opting to think the best of Nico. He hungered for gossip, but I was his friend. "Not if I got to him first and explained everything."

Silver shot me a scowl so severe, it rattled me on the inside. "And have him sign NDAs and have to give him money to shut him up? No. That doesn't work. I would know."

I'd been about to tell her Nico never would have required all that, but then I caught her last comment, confused by its meaning. "You would know?"

"Yes." She blew out an unsteady breath, swiveling her chair towards the wall to turn away from me. "Because that's the reason I was run out of Los Angeles."