Page 18 of His Wild Desire

"Uh-huh, sure." She rolls her eyes, taking a sip of her drink. "Listen, I get the appeal of getting away from it all for a while. Believe me, I've fantasized about chucking this soul-sucking corporate hellhole more times than I can count. But do you really want to give all this up?"

My heart squeezes painfully, and I have to tamp down the sudden, inexplicable ache blossoming in my chest. Aspen must sense my melancholy because she leans forward, her features softening into something closer to compassion.

"Look, I'm not trying to harsh your vibe, okay? If this whole mountain woman fantasy is what you want, then I'm behind you one hundred percent. It's just, well, you've worked your ass off clawing your way to the top. And from where I'm sitting, you've finally got it all—the high-powered career, the corner office, the big paycheck. Don't sell yourself short over some vacation fling, you know?"

Her concern seems sincere, but it only exacerbates the nagging sense of discontentment gnawing at me. How can I even begin to explain that despite having achieved all the success and status I've spent my life striving for, it feels as hollow and unsatisfying as the sleek, soulless office surrounding me?

I open my mouth to respond, but any reply I could have mustered is cut off by the abrupt squeal of the heavy oak door banging open. Ellison Wentworth, our notoriously demanding and perpetually irritable boss, storms into the bullpen, his bald head glistening with sweat and the veins in his ruddy temples already bulging dangerously.

"Ladies, in my office. We have a situation."

His gruff bark leaves no room for argument as he disappears back through the doorway. Aspen shoots me a resigned look, her eyes already glazed with the weary acceptance that comes from enduring too many of Wentworth's legendary tantrums.

Smothering a sigh, I rise from my desk and fall into step beside her, both of us following Wentworth into his oppressively sterile office, the air thick with his signature blend of overpriced cologne and barely concealed rage. Aspen sits beside me on the rigid leather sofa as our boss whirls on us, his jowls quivering.

"You two better have a damn good explanation for why the Kingsbury account is slipping through our fingers!" he bellows, spittle flying from his pursed lips.

My mind races in a desperate attempt to recall the details of the account in question, but I can't seem to summon any shred of interest or motivation. Across from me, Aspen launches into a flustered explanation, something about misaligned expectations and a breakdown in communication.

But I'm not listening.

Instead, my gaze drifts out the towering wall of glass behind Wentworth's desk, taking in the sprawling skyline glinting harshly in the midday sun. I used to find the soaring steel and glass monoliths exhilarating, a testament to ambition and achievement.

Now they just feel empty.

"...completely unacceptable!" Wentworth's voice cuts through my wandering thoughts with the subtlety of a foghorn. "I want a comprehensive strategy on my desk by morning, or so help me, I'll have both your jobs!"

His ultimatum hangs in the tense silence, the implied threat of termination usually more than enough to snap me into overdrive. But something has shifted deep within me. The rat race, the cutthroat ladder-climbing, the endless sacrifices for some ephemeral definition of success defined by others...

I'm just so damn tired of it all.

"No." The single syllable slips from my lips, soft but resolute.

Wentworth freezes mid-tirade, his eyes bugging comically. "I... what did you just say?"

Rising to my feet, I straighten my spine and meet his gobsmacked stare head-on, a sudden clarity and lightness filling my chest. "I said no, Ellison. Consider this my resignation, effective immediately."

A shocked silence hangs in the air, thick and electric. Aspen's eyes are wide, her perfectly lipsticked mouth forming a little 'o' of disbelief. Even Wentworth seems momentarily struck dumb by my uncharacteristic defiance, his florid face draining of color.

Then, like a petulant child denied a treat, his expression contorts into a mask of rage, the vein in his forehead pulsing alarmingly.

"You impudent little b—"

"Don't bother," I cut him off, holding up a hand. "I won't be swayed by your empty threats and pathetic tantrums. Not anymore."

Pivoting on my heel, I stride from his office, the rapid staccato of my heels against the polished concrete echoing through the cavernous lobby with each step. With every breath of fresh air, the weight that's shackled my soul for so long dissolves, dissipating like morning mist.

Free. I'm finally free.

A giddy laugh bubbles up from deep within as I burst out onto the bustling city sidewalk, my face tilted up to bask in the warm sunshine. I've taken the first step toward reclaiming my life, and the possibilities ahead stretch out before me, vast and exhilarating as the peaks and valleys I fell so madly in love with back in Silverpine.

A new beginning, a fresh path forged on my own terms.

"Princess?"

The familiar rumble of that gruff voice sends an electric jolt straight through me. I pivot slowly, every molecule in my body vibrating with a potent mixture of trepidation and reckless hope.

And there he is.

---