Page 34 of Sexting the Billionaire

His eyes drop to my lips for just a fraction of a second, but it's enough to make my breath catch.

"Roman," I say softly, not even sure what I'm trying to communicate.

He takes a half step closer, his free hand coming up to rest against the elevator wall beside my head. Not trapping me, not quite, but definitely invading my personal space in a way that makes my heart race.

"Tell me to step back," he says, his voice rough around the edges.

I should. I absolutely should. Instead, I find myself tilting my face up toward his, drawn like a magnet to its opposite pole.

"This is a terrible idea," I whisper, even as I make no move to create distance.

"The worst," he agrees, leaning incrementally closer. "Tell me to stop, Cassie."

The elevator dings as we reach our floor, startling us both. Roman steps back instantly, composure snapping into place like an elastic band.

The doors slide open to reveal a small crowd waiting to board, including Zara, who takes in our positions with raised eyebrows.

"Mr. Kade," she says coolly. "The budget meeting is about to begin."

"We're on our way," Roman replies, his voice betraying none of the tension that had filled the elevator moments before. "Ms. Monroe had a production issue to brief me on."

I follow him off the elevator on unsteady legs, my heartbeat still erratic from our near... whatever that was. Near-disaster. Near-kiss. Near-career suicide.

Throughout the budget meeting, I feel Roman's eyes on me whenever I speak. I keep my presentation professional, my responses measured, my demeanor calm despite the chaos inside me.

It's only when the meeting ends and everyone files out that I allow myself to exhale fully. What just happened in that elevator? And what would have happened if we hadn't reached our floor when we did?

My phone buzzes in my pocket as I gather my materials. I already know who it's from.

Five more seconds in that elevator and the budget meeting would have started without us. Next time, I'm pressing the emergency stop button.

I glance across the now-empty conference room to where Roman stands by the window, his back to me, phone in hand.

This has officially spiraled beyond my control. Beyond both our control, perhaps. The question is: what am I going to do about it?

What can I do, when everything I want conflicts with everything I've worked for?

I leave without responding to his text, needing time to think, to breathe, to decide if I'm willing to risk everything for whatever this is between us.

But as I wait for the elevator—a different elevator, because I'm not completely self-destructive—I find myself typing a response before I can talk myself out of it.

And I might have let you. Good thing one of us still remembers we're supposed to be professionals. (Though I'm starting to forget why that matters)

I hit send, then immediately shove my phone back in my pocket like it's radioactive.

What happens next is anyone's guess, but one thing is certain.

This job will be the death of me—one elevator ride at a time.

9

CASSIE

DANGEROUS IN DIAMONDS

"Ican't breathe," I whisper, staring at my reflection in Olivia's mirror.

"That's how you know it fits perfectly," Olivia says, circling me like a fashion predator assessing her kill. "If you can breathe in a gala dress, it's too loose."

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