LOGINCHAPTER THREE
Alex's Pov
Damien's fingers traced lazy patterns on my shoulder. "Monday morning, you walk in like always. Professional and distant"
I pulled back to look at him. "You can't be serious. After this?"
"I'm completely serious." His expression hardened into the CEO mask I knew from work. "What we do in private is ours. But at Cross Industries, I'm your boss and you're my employee. We keep them separate."
"That's insane."
"That's survival." He sat up, and I immediately missed his warmth. "You think the board won't use this against me? You think they won't claim I'm giving you preferential treatment or that you slept your way up?"
"I would never….."
"I know that. You know that. But perception matters in business." He stood and walked to the bar, pouring two glasses of whiskey. "I've already lost everything once because I trusted the wrong person with my private life. I won't make that mistake again."
The reminder of his ex stung. "I'm not him."
"No, you're not." He handed me a glass and sat back down, closer this time. "Which is why I'm willing to try this. But we do it smart. Carefully."
I took a drink, the burn matching my frustration. "So what, we're just supposed to pretend nothing happened when I see you in meetings?"
"Exactly that." His hand found my thigh, possessive and warm. "During work hours, I'm Mr. Cross and you're Carter. But after hours..." His grip tightened. "After hours, you're mine."
The claim in his voice sent heat straight through me. "Yours?"
"If you want to be." He leaned in, his breath ghosting over my lips. "I don't share, Alex. I don't do casual. If we're doing this, we're doing it right."
"What does right look like to you?"
"Exclusive. Discreet. No one at work knows. We meet here or at my private residence. You delete that app, I already deleted mine." He kissed me softly, different from before, almost tender. "And you let me take care of you."
"I don't need taking care of."
"No, but I need to give it." His hand slid higher on my thigh. "Let me spoil you. Let me show you what it means to be with someone who actually values you."
I should have argued more, should have demanded something less complicated. Instead, I set my glass down and straddled his lap, feeling him already hardening again beneath me.
"You talk too much," I said, grinding down against him.
He gripped my hips, controlling the movement. "Bedroom. This time we do it properly."
The bedroom was massive, dominated by a king-sized bed with dark sheets. Damien pulled me down onto it, his mouth finding mine again as his hands explored every inch of my skin. This time there was no urgency, just thorough discovery.
He kissed down my chest, paying attention to my nipples until I was squirming beneath him. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin, then his tongue soothed the sting. Lower still, across my stomach, my hip bones, everywhere except where I needed him most.
"Damien, please….."
"Patience." He spread my legs wider, settling between them. "I want to taste every part of you."
His mouth closed around me again, and this time he took his time. Long, slow pulls that had me fisting the sheets. His fingers found me again, stretching and preparing while his tongue worked magic. I was begging incoherently by the time he finally pulled back.
"On your hands and knees," he ordered.
I flipped over eagerly, presenting myself for him. His hands stroked over my ass appreciatively before I heard the sound of the condom wrapper tearing. Then he was pushing inside from behind, deeper than before, the angle making me see stars.
"Fuck, Alex." His voice was strained. "You're perfect."
He set a harder pace this time, each thrust driving me forward into the mattress. The sounds of skin slapping skin filled the room along with our combined moans. His hand wrapped around my hip, finding my cock and stroking in rhythm with his movements.
"You take me so well," he groaned. "Like you were made for this."
I could only moan in response, lost to sensation. He shifted slightly, hitting that spot inside that made my vision white out, and I cried out his name.
"That's it," he encouraged, stroking me faster. "Let me hear you. No one can hear us here. Be as loud as you want."
I stopped holding back, letting every sound escape as he drove into me relentlessly. The pleasure built impossibly higher, tightening every muscle until I thought I might break apart.
"Come for me, Alex. I want to feel it."
His permission was all I needed. I came hard, spilling over his hand and the sheets beneath us, my whole body trembling. He followed with a guttural groan, his fingers digging into my hips as he found his release.
We collapsed together onto the bed, both breathing hard. He pulled out gently and cleaned us both up before pulling me against his chest again.
"Stay tonight," he said quietly. "I'll have you driven home early tomorrow before anyone could see."
"This is crazy," I whispered. "Keeping it secret, pretending at work—"
"I know." He kissed my temple. "But you're worth the complications. We'll figure it out as we go."
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe we could really make this work. But a small voice in my head whispered that secrets like this never stayed hidden forever.
"What if someone finds out?" I asked.
He was quiet for a long moment. "Then I'll handle it. I promise you, Alex—I won't let anything hurt your career."
"What about Monday? How am I supposed to look at you in meetings and not remember this?"
His laugh was low and dark. "Who says I want you to forget?”
Damien's POVThursday evening Alex showed up at my apartment with groceries.Not announced. He texted from the lobby: “I'm teaching myself to cook something. You're the test subject. Buzz me up.”I buzzed him up.He arrived with two bags and the focused expression of someone who had a plan they were moderately confident in."What are you making," I said."Pasta. Carla's advice. Better ingredients first.""You bought ingredients based on advice from a woman you met for one dinner.""I bought ingredients based on advice from a woman who made the best pasta I've ever eaten." He set the bags on the counter and started unpacking. "There's a difference."I leaned against the counter and watched him organize things with the particular methodology he brought to tasks he was learning. Everything laid out before anything started. Sequence established first."You don't need to watch," he said."I'm not watching. I'm standing in my kitchen.""You're watching with your arms crossed."I uncrossed m
Alex's POVSophie's nine o'clock became a ten o'clock because she was on a call when we arrived and her assistant made apologetic faces at us through the glass.Damien and I waited in the corridor outside her office. He had his phone. I had coffee. We stood close enough that our shoulders were almost touching and neither of us adjusted."Jordan withdrew the complaint," Marcus had texted me at seven that morning. Single sentence. No elaboration. Marcus communicated like someone who billed by the word."Did he tell you why Jordan withdrew," I said."Sophie applied pressure on the authorship question," Damien said without looking up from his phone. "Once it became clear she could demonstrate the complaint hadn't originated with Jordan, whoever helped him write it got nervous.""Richard.""Adjacent to Richard. Same result.""So it's over.""The complaint is over. Richard isn't." He put his phone away. "But we knew that."Sophie's door opened. She waved us in with the brisk efficiency of s
Damien's POVThe flight home left on time.Alex fell asleep forty minutes in, which didn't surprise me. He'd been running on canal air and good coffee since eight in the morning and the adrenaline of the Rossi deal had taken more out of him than he'd admitted.He slept differently than most people. Still. Like he'd made a decision about it.I worked for two hours and then stopped because the work wasn't urgent and the alternative was watching the dark outside the window and thinking about the last forty-eight hours, which I found I didn't mind doing.It was his first time in Milan. I'd known that going in and had wanted, without making it a production, for it to be good. The square. The bookshop. Carla Rossi called him smart and fed him pasta and hugged him longer at the door.It had been better than good.The thing I kept returning to was the canal. Him saying *like yourself, the version without the building.* Not as a compliment. Just as an observation, the way he said most true thi
Alex's POVOur flight home was at six in the evening.That left the morning free and neither of us wasted it. We were out of the hotel by eight-thirty with no plan beyond Damien saying there was a market near the Navigli canals he'd been meaning to get back to for two years.I didn't ask questions. I'd learned that following Damien somewhere he'd been meaning to return to was always worth it.The market was small and permanent, the kind that existed for the neighborhood rather than for visitors. Produce cheese, a man selling bread from a cart who had a line six people deep at nine in the morning. We joined it without discussing it."What are we buying bread for," I said. "We leave in eight hours.""We're buying it to eat now.""We had breakfast.""That was coffee.""You had eggs.""Hotel eggs." He said it with quiet disdain. "That doesn't count."I looked at him. "You're a snob.""I have standards. There's a difference.""You say that constantly.""Because it's constantly true."The l
Damien's POVCarla Rossi was seventy-two and had no interest in pretending dinner was a business occasion.She'd said so within the first five minutes of us arriving at their home in Brera, a townhouse that had been in the family for four generations and showed it in the best way. Photographs on every wall. Books on every surface. A kitchen that smelled like something had been cooking since morning."Carlo talks about business at the office," she said, taking our coats with the efficiency of someone who'd been hosting people her entire life. "Here we eat. Sit."Carlo caught my eye and shrugged pleasantly. "You see how it is.""I see how it is," I said.Alex was already looking at the photographs in the hallway. He did it the way he did most things, with full attention and no self-consciousness about the attention. Carla noticed immediately."You like old things," she said to him."I like things that have been kept," he said. "There's a difference."She looked at him for a moment. Then
Alex's POVThe Rossi meeting ran long. Just the particular length of a room full of people who were genuinely interested in each other's ideas and kept finding new threads to pull. Damien was different there than he was in New York meetings. Still precise, still authoritative, but there was less armor. Like being on someone else's ground gave him permission to be slightly more human about it.I watched him across the table and tried to focus on my notes.Carlo Rossi was seventy and looked sixty and had opinions about everything that he delivered with the cheerful certainty of someone who'd been right often enough to stop qualifying. He'd taken to Damien immediately, the way older self-made men sometimes recognized each other across a table.He'd taken to me too, which I hadn't expected."Your marketing man," he said to Damien at one point, gesturing at me. "He asked the right question.""He usually does," Damien said. He didn't look at me when he said it. Just stated it like weather.
Alex's POVThe first consulting project went better than expected.Three weeks in and the client loved everything I'd presented. They extended the contract and referred me to two other companies. By the end of the month I had more work than I could handle alone.Damien watched me stress about it ov
Damien's POVVictoria invited us to dinner on Wednesday."Both of you," she said when she called. "At my place. Seven o'clock. Don't be late."Alex looked skeptical when I told him. "Your sister wants to have dinner with us?""Apparently.""Is this an ambush? Is she going to try to convince you to
Alex's POVChris Morrison called on a Thursday.I hadn't thought about him in months. We'd dated for eight months two years ago, ended badly when he took a job at a competitor firm and decided his career mattered more than we did. I didn't blame him for that anymore. But I also hadn't missed him."
Alex's PovEleanor died at 3:47 AM with Damien holding her hand and me standing uselessly in the corner.I shouldn't have been there. But when I'd tried to leave, Damien had grabbed my wrist without looking away from his grandmother."Stay," was all he said.Afterward, Damien sat perfectly still, n







