Page 18 of Ardent Desires

“Come in,” I say, my voice a little sharper than I intended, trying to keep the tension out.

The door creaks open, and there she is. She’s wearing black pants, fitted, professional, and a black turtleneck that hugs her body. But it’s not her clothes that grab my attention—it’s her face. She has dark circles under her eyes, and there’s no lipstick. Elliealwayshas lipstick on.

Something flares inside me. Concern, or maybe frustration that she’s here at all.

She closes the door softly behind her, the new phone in her hand, and steps closer to my desk.

“Morning, Mr. Blackwood,” she says, her voice a little off, like it’s strained. She’s tired, maybe even sick, and immediately I feel a stab of guilt.

I shake my head. “No. Don’t do that, Ellie. Last night changes nothing. I’m still Alexander to you.”

Her eyes flick away, like she can’t meet my gaze. She’s about to say something when she sneezes, and I sit up straighter, the words coming out before I can stop them. “You’re sick.”

I want to stand up, to do something, but I hold myself back, gripping the edge of my desk instead.

“I have a bit of a cold,” she says, brushing it off like it’s nothing.

I narrow my eyes at her. “Why the hell did you come into work?”

She shrugs, looking stubborn. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” I snap, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice. “Go to HR, then go home.”

“Sir—” she starts, but I cut her off.

“No. You’re sick, Ellie. Besides,” I pause, forcing a more even tone, “I need you healthy for tomorrow.”

She frowns, blinking in confusion. “What’s tomorrow?”

I lean back in my chair, running a hand through my hair. “There’s a corporate event. You’re accompanying me.”

She stares at me for a second like she’s trying to decide if I’m serious. “What time does it start?”

“Tomorrow evening. I’ll pick you up around six,” I say, keeping my voice calm, controlled. “But until then, you rest.”

She opens her mouth, then shuts it again, clearly too tired to argue. “Okay,” she mutters, before lifting the phone in her hand. “Why did you get me this?”

I glance at the iPhone, trying to come up with a reasonable answer. “You’ll need it to FaceTime our clients. I work in tech. The gadgets my employees use needs to showcase this.”

She stares at me, and I know—I knowshe can see through the bullshit. But she doesn’t call me out on it. At least not today. She’s too tired for that.

I will have to make sure that I get every employee a brand new iPhone before the end of day so she does not call me out on my favoritism.

“Right,” she says, her voice quiet. “Thank you.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then I nod toward the door. “Go home, Ellie.”

She looks like she’s going to argue again, but instead, she nods and walks out, her steps slower than usual. I watch her go, feeling the tension in my chest ease just a little—but not enough.

As soon as the door closes behind her, I exhale, running a hand over my face.Fuck.That was a close one. She’s sick, exhausted,and here I am dragging her into work after last night, after that fucking kiss.

I stand up, pacing behind my desk, my mind a whirlwind. I should’ve stopped her the second I saw those dark circles, the second I saw her without her lipstick, but instead, I dragged her into my office to talk about a corporate event. I shouldn’t be thinking about her like this at all. Shouldn’t be wondering how soft her skin felt last night, or how good she tasted.

Fuck.I lean my hands on the desk, staring down at the papers in front of me, but they blur. I can’t focus. My body is tense, my mind racing, and I can’t shake the urge todo something—anything.

She said she wanted professionalism. That she needed to keep things professional. Fine. I can do that. But professionalism is harder than I thought when all I want to do is call her and make sure she’s actually resting, or have someone send soup to her apartment.Christ, I can’t even send her soup without it feeling like I’m crossing a line.

I grab my phone, staring at it for a long moment, then shove it back in my pocket. No. I won’t call her. I won’t. She’s fine, she said she’s fine.

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