Page 37 of Surprise Me Tonight
I groan softly, stepping in closer. “You say that like it’s a joke.”
“It does sound a bit filthy.”
“Good,” I say, lowering my voice. “Because right now all I can think about is bending you over my deskagain.”
Her cheeks flush, and her lips curve just slightly. But it’s her eyes that undo me — bright, full of nerves and hunger and something dangerously close to hope.
She hasn’t said yes.
She hasn’t said no either.
I want to kiss her again. Want to pull her close, press her to the door and lose myself in her all over again. But this moment needs more than heat.
It needs honesty.
So I take a breath. Step back just enough to give her space.
“Think about it,” I say quietly. “All of it.”
She watches me, still.
Whatever she's thinking is written nowhere on her face. She’s gone quiet — the kind of quiet that means a storm’s moving beneath the surface.
“I mean it,” I go on. “You don’t have to give me an answer tonight. But whatever you decide, I promise you this: your job is safe.”
Her eyes flicker, uncertain. “Callum—”
“I’m serious.” I hold her gaze. “If this makes things uncomfortable, or complicated, or just not what you want anymore — all you have to do is tell me. I’ll reassign you. There are a few roles that can be done remotely — support for the Brighton team, or liaising with Luciana directly. You wouldn’t have to report to me.”
She opens her mouth, but I keep going.
“It would kill me not to see you every day,” I admit, and that’s the first time I’ve ever said anything like that out loud. “But I’d rather lose you as a PA than make you feel trapped.”
She swallows. Her throat moves, her lashes flutter once.
“No hard feelings,” I add, softer now. “No retaliation. No weirdness. If you want out — of us, of this — all you have to do is say the word.”
She still hasn’t looked away.
For a second, I think she might bolt. That she’ll give me a tight smile, say thanks for being understanding, and walk out of here like none of this ever happened.
But she doesn’t.
She steps in closer, just half a pace.
“Thank you,” she says, voice quiet, breath catching ever so slightly. “For giving me the choice. For not making it harder than it already is.”
I nod, trying to keep my expression neutral, when all I want to do is drag her into my arms and beg her not to go.
She looks down at her hands, then back up. Her face is open. Honest. Stella, through and through.
“I am conflicted,” she admits. “I’m trying to figure out what’s smart, what’s right, and what’sme. And I don’t know yet. I really don’t.”
My chest tightens. “I get it. I do.”
She nods, takes a step back, like it’s done. Like she’s about to leave.
But then she stops.
