Brothers of Paradise Series

He pulls back, looking at me for so long that I almost wonder if he’s decided to instigate another staring contest.

“Henry?”

“You’re right,” he says. “We shouldn’t.”

He moves off me entirely, retreating to the other side of the couch. We watch each other, both of our eyes dark with desire, with want.

I want him to ask me to stay. I want us to forget about our positions, our jobs, our reputations. I want to pretend like I’m not just his conveniently hot personal assistant.

But I am. And he’s my boss.

And I need this job.

Henry puts his head in his hands. In the silence, both of us are breathing hard. “Fuck,” he breathes, “but I’m so turned on.”

“I know,” I say miserably, because I am too.

Because being with Henry feels like being alive for the first time in a very long while, where achievement and status doesn’t matter. Where we just are, the two of us, understanding one another perfectly.

“Well,” he says. “One-zero to you, I suppose.”

He must see the confusion on my face, because he clarifies. “You asked if I would be able to stay away from you. I said I would, but clearly…”

“I participated. If anything, we both lost a point.”

“It’s clear that we’re not as strong as I assumed, by any means.”

“Mmm.” I bite my lip, staring at him, his thick hair mussed from my hands. “Why do you really want me to come to the wedding as your date?”

His eyes darken. “You keep asking that. Are you hoping to get a different answer?”

“Maybe.”

It can’t just be for work. This man does nothing that’s not deliberate, and he’s far too smart to not understand the implications and the consequences. So am I, for that matter. We’re both playing with fire.NôvelDrama.Org: text © owner.

“Why do you think?”

I shake my head. “No, you don’t get to turn the question back on me.”

He smiles, showing a row of white teeth. “Well,” he says. “Maybe it’s because you’re so very inconvenient.”

The implied praise makes me smile. “Glad I can be of service.”

“Hmm. Yes. I think it’s time to call it a night, before our self-control shatters completely.”

I stand on shaky legs, following him through his apartment. His hands are in his pockets-safely tucked away-and shoulders stretched taut underneath his sweater. “Sure we’ll be able to handle a whole weekend away together?”

“We have to,” he replies, “because the opera house deadline is looming, and I have a contract to adhere to.”

Oh. Mine, the one I made him sign. I grab my purse from the peg in his hallway, turning to face him. He stares back at me-eyes warm, nothing impassive left on his features.

“Thanks for signing it,” I say.

“Thanks for drawing it up,” he says. “If we win the competition, you’ll get all the credit you deserve, Faye. You have my word on that.”

I glance down at my shoes, trying and failing to hide the emotion that’s in my eyes. Recognition. Acceptance. Partnership. It’s everything I never got in my last job. Or in my last relationship.

“I’m very glad I applied to be your assistant,” I say finally. “I can’t believe I got so lucky on a drunken application.”

Henry reaches out and tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear. I hold still, my whole body taut at the faint brush of his fingers. “I’m very glad of that too,” he says faintly. “Now go home, Faye, before I lose control completely.”

I smile. “All right, I will.”

“And take a cab home.”

“Okay,” I whisper, stepping out into the hallway. Henry closes the door softly behind him, and I’m left with the feeling of his hand on my cheek, his lips on mine, the entire ride home.

Faye

Weekend bag, packed. Nails, painted. Hair, blow-dried. My battle armor is on-I couldn’t be more prepared-and I’m still nervous, waiting outside my building for Henry to pick me up.

May has turned into a beautiful June, and New York is in that sweet spot temperature-wise, not yet sweltering hot and unbearable. Still, I feel too warm, my summer dress clinging to my skin. What have I gotten into with this weekend trip? Meeting his family? It’s madness.

A large gray car indicates and pulls up to the curb, stopping right in front of me. I square my shoulders and try to channel my nerves into excitement.

Henry steps out of the driver’s door. He’s in dark blue slacks and a soft linen shirt instead of his usual suits, but his hair remains meticulously in place. It’s impossible to look at him now and not remember how his body feels against mine.

“Hi,” I say, unable to stop myself from smiling at him.

He smiles back, bending to grab my weekend bag. “You didn’t have to wait outside. I would’ve called when I got here.”

“I like being curbside,” I ramble. “It’s one of my favorite parts of the city.”

He closes the trunk. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible, inconvenient, irreplaceable… I’m racking up quite a reputation these days.”

“A well-deserved one, I’d say.” He turns the key in the ignition, and we make our way out of the city. New York disappears behind us in a blurry skyline, replaced by intersections and four-lane highways.

He keeps one hand on the steering wheel, the other casually by his side.

I lean back in the passenger seat, studying his profile. “Are you excited?”

“Not particularly, no.”

“Not even for your sister’s wedding?”

His eyes slide to mine briefly. “We talk a lot about me. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”