"Are you sleeping in your office again?"
"No. I don't think I will." He touches his neck. "I miss my bed."
I suddenly have an image of him between black sheets, completely naked and with a massive bulge poking the silk. I shake it off. It's one thing to imagine him while I'm in my apartment. It's another to do it when he's standing right in front of me.
"Well, you need to rest, too," I tell him. "I know you're stressed about this Swiss acquisition, but you need to be in perfect health so you can stay at the helm."
"I know. Thanks."
He smiles and my knees go weak. Why does he seem to have a stronger effect on me than usual? Is it because of what I'm wearing? Because of what I was doing earlier?
I swallow. "You're welcome. And I should go."
Before I completely lose control and make another stupid mistake.
"Good night."
"Good night," Ethan says. "And take care."
I nod and walk away. Somehow, it's more difficult than usual, especially since I can feel him watching me. I can feel his magnetic force and I almost want to just succumb to it, to turn around and throw myself at him and make my fantasy come true instead of going back to my empty, lonely apartment. Besides, I can tell he needs a break, and there's no one here right now, so we could do whatever we want and no one would know. It would just be our own dirty little secret.
The thought is enough to make my cheeks hot, and I'm glad Ethan can't see my face. I keep walking, reminding myself with every step I take that Ethan is my boss.
No more mistakes today, Stella.
Chapter Two
Ethan
Strange, I think as I watch Stella disappear behind the elevator doors. I feel like the woman I've just spoken to is completely different from the one I've been working closely with for the past two years.
It's not just because Stella looked different. I've only ever seen her in stiff dresses or colored silk blouses and tight-fitting skirts, but tonight she was wearing pants and a white top that seemed to hang from her shoulders. The topmost button was left undone, too, and though her cleavage remained concealed, I could see her black bra through the thin fabric. I had to keep myself from staring at it, in fact. Then there's her hair. Apart from that first time I met her, I've always seen her with her cappuccino mane all combed back and tied up, which is attractive enough, but nothing compared to when she has her hair down. There's just something sensual about a woman whose shiny locks are flowing freely past her shoulders, like they're inviting me to run my fingers through them. I nearly did. I wanted to make even more of a mess of them.
That's the thing. Tonight, Stella was a mess. Well, not really a mess, but she didn't look as organized or composed as she usually is. It made me realize how hard she's been working. I know she works hard, but to go through the trouble of making it look easy? I don't give her enough credit.
I admire her even more now, but at the same time, I want to see more of this side of her. This unguarded, innocent, disoriented Stella. I want to mess her up even more and then hold her and tell her everything will be alright. I want to be the one to pick up her scattered pieces and put them all back in place. I want to pamper her and protect her.
I want her. I always have, but this is different. I want her so badly my chest feels like a ton of steel.
But nothing has changed. Stella is still my assistant and I'm still her boss. The line between us may have been blurred earlier, but it's there and I still can't cross it, though God knows I just had to summon every ounce of self-control I had in me not to.
Fuck.
I slam my palms on top of her desk in frustration. The pen holder and the pad of sticky notes bounce. The pile of papers fans out.
As I fix it, I notice the leather-bound notebook hidden beneath and my curiosity gets piqued. What's this? Her own planner? A phone book? Or maybe it's her personal collection of affirmations and inspirational quotes that help her get through each day. My grandmother used to have one. Whatever it is, it can't be that private if Stella left it on her desk. I'm just going to take a peek.
I open the book to a random page and find it filled with handwritten lines. I read.
I can't go to sleep. I'm grateful that I'm alive, that I have a job and a roof over my head, but I can't help but feel it's not enough. I feel so alone.
I stop. Whoa. That's private.
I close the notebook and scrutinize the cover. Is this Stella's diary?
I know it is. I know those lines were in her handwriting. I also know it's not right to read someone else's diary. I should just put this down without reading another line. I should put it back where I found it. But I don't. I can't.
Those words I just read were like a doorway to a whole new world - the world of Stella's thoughts. If tonight I saw Stella out of her usual element, without all her walls up, this diary is Stella laid bare. The real Stella. Just from those few lines, I caught a glimpse of her.
I never knew she felt lonely. I know she didn't have any friends when she first started her job because she had just moved in from Seattle, but it's been two years. I imagined her having fun with friends on weekends, catching a late night movie, going to a 24-hour spa or a bar. I didn't think she was spending her weekends alone or that she felt so alone that she had trouble sleeping.
I want to know more.
I sit in her chair and read the journal starting with the first entry.
Today was my first day at work. The job is as tough as I thought it would be, but I'm not going to crack. I'm going to do my best. My hot boss is counting on me, after all. He has these intense black eyes and this perfect dark brown hair, like really dark. And don't get me started about how his body looks, especially in a suit. You know I have a thing for men in suits, but I swear none of them can rock a suit like Ethan Hawthorne can.
I grin. So she thinks I'm hot, does she? I have caught her staring at me on a few occasions. Now, I know why.
I keep reading. Some of the entries are just ramblings. Some are just a line long, like how she's tired from work or she's craving for ice cream. And surprisingly, some are about me.
I don't think Ethan knows it, but he's nailing his new job. He works harder than anyone in this building. And his head is full of brilliant ideas. He knows what he wants and he makes it happen. I'm proud to call him my boss.
Ethan is so serious. I wish he would smile more. Then again, I also like his serious expression. I think he looks hotter when he's frowning or when he's deep in thought.
Ethan and I have started this habit of chitchatting for a few minutes after work. I look forward to it, but I wish we could have real conversations. I wish he'd open up to me more.
Funny. I've been feeling the same way.
Ethan is away on a business trip. He's in Berlin. I wish he'd taken me with him.
My eyebrows arch. Stella wanted to come? I never knew. I always figured that when I'm away on a business trip, Stella has less work so she can relax and go home early. I thought that by leaving her behind, I was letting her take a break. It never occurred to me that she'd be happier coming along. She definitely never mentioned it.
There are other things she's never mentioned.
I miss Mom and Dad. I wouldn't mind going back to being a child again if it meant I could have them back.