Chapter Six

"I really can't go with you?" Mokuba's voice filtered through the open door to Seto's walk-in closet. The rhythmic thump, thump, thump of his ankles beating against the bed frame came with it.

Seto was kneeling on the floor of his closet, zipping closed his rolling suitcase and trying to keep his temper even. "This is a business trip, Mokuba, not a vacation."

"So? I've gone on trips with you before. I can hang around town until you're done."

Seto stood the bag upright and nestled its matching duffle against the extended handle. "No."

"Why not?" The beating came harder. "I'm seventeen."

"Exactly. Don't think I'm not aware what could happen if I left you alone in a city that large."

Seto grabbed the garment bag off the hook on the interior of the door and swung it over his shoulder. Across his other shoulder, he hung a black leather satchel, in which was nestled his laptop. Mokuba had perched himself on the edge of Seto's bed. He looked contrite, his jaw tight and eyes indicating there was something venomous he wanted to say.

"Are you packed?" Seto asked.

"Yeah."

"His mother knows you're coming?"

Mokuba groaned, head lolling back as he rolled his eyes. "Yes, mom."

No one would think he'd been excited at the prospect of a near week-long sleepover at his best friend's house.

"Get your bag then." Seto looked down at his watch. "We need to pick up Miss Miyoshi before I drop you off."

Mokuba slid off the bed, a smirk gracing his lips. "Oh, yeah?"

"According to her, her transport is still in customs so she has no way to-"

"You just wanna be alone with her, don't you?"

"That had nothing to do with-"

"I'm not stupid. I see how you look at her." Seto headed for the door, but Mokuba was right on his heels. "I can't blame you. She's hot as hell."

"We're not discussing this."

Mokuba sidled up next to him as they walked down the hall. "Aw, come on. We never talk about girls, and I haven't seen you interested in anyone in years."

They stopped outside the open door to Mokuba's bedroom.

Seto pointed inside. "Bag. Now."

"Give me something, man. Is it serious? I've seen the pictures and it sure looks serious."

Seto rubbed his forehead. Those pictures were going to be the death of him.

The news fiasco had started back up that Saturday evening when shots of him and Miss Miyoshi at Mokuba's school started making the rounds. He was grateful that none of them managed to catch a good shot of their kiss in the car. Their existence had caused enough problems already. It took another week for the media storm to calm down enough for the two of them to return to some semblance of normalcy. With the added condition that Seto spent as little time with her as he could manage before the trip.

Not that he told her that.

Twice already in their short time knowing each other Seto had let his control slip. She had an almost otherworldly ability to creep between the cracks in the wall he'd put between himself and the rest of the world. Something only Mokuba had ever been able to do.

His little brother's voice broke through his thoughts. "You do at least like her, right?"

"Fine." Seto let his hand drop. "She's not as annoying as some other women who've shown interest."

"So, yeah?"

"Just get your bag so we can go."

The grin Mokuba gave him as he walked into his room was too knowing for Seto's liking. A moment later, the teen was back in the hall with an overstuffed duffle bag slung over his body.

Seto raised a brow. "I see you managed to pack your whole room."

"And you packed your whole closet."

"You did remember to pack clothes, I hope."

"Fresh underwear too." Mokuba crossed his arms, his smile petulant, but not unkind. "Aren't you proud?"

"Extremely."

Seto wished their interactions could stay like that. Cordial, but sarcastic. As if he never made mistakes that hurt the only family he had left. As if things never changed between them.

Mokuba leaned out the passenger side window, arms crossed on the door. They had parked on the side of the street while they waited for Miss Miyoshi to come down.

"She lives in a dump, doesn't she?" Mokuba asked, though not necessarily to Seto.

"Be polite." Seto slipped his phone into his pocket, after texting her that they arrived. "Move to the backseat."

"Why do I gotta move?" Mokuba twisted around to glare at him. "She's the new one."

"Because you're seventeen, as you love to remind me." Seto's eyes moved past Mokuba's shoulder as the apartment building door opened. "Besides, it looks like she could use some help."

Miss Miyoshi descended the stoop, a suitcase in one hand and a garment bag in the other. She was dressed simply. Bright blue leggings, a white shirt, and clean white sneakers. Her hair was up in a high ponytail that swung back and forth as she walked.

Mokuba whistled.

"Just get out and help her," Seto snapped.

He leaned against his door and placed his head in his hand as Mokuba climbed out. He didn't understand how Mokuba could be so transparent with certain things, like girls and sports, yet be opaque whenever Seto tried to talk to him.

"Morning!" Miss Miyoshi's voice turned his eyes. "Heard you won that game last month."

"Yeah." Mokuba took her suitcase. "Was no sweat."

"No doubt. In the trunk, right?"

"Yeah."

Seto reached down to pop the trunk. Once her bags were stored, Miss Miyoshi settled in the passenger's seat and Mokuba sat behind him.

"Where're you from?" Mokuba asked as Seto merged back onto the street.

"Nowhere special," Miss Miyoshi said. "A little town on the east coast. You've probably never heard of it."

Mokuba was silent for a few seconds. In the rearview mirror, Seto could see him staring at Miss Miyoshi, his brow creased in thought.

"Have I seen you somewhere before?" Mokuba asked.

"I doubt it. I've been overseas for the last few years."

"Where?"

"Germany."

The pitch of his voice spiked. "Really? Isn't that where you're going?"

She turned in her seat to look at him. "Don't miss much, do you? Why else would your brother bring me along?"

"I don't know." Mokuba threw a knowing look at Seto. "Cause you're pretty?"

Warmth crept up the back of Seto's neck. "Mokuba."

She laughed. "Well, thank you." She winked. "You're pretty cute yourself."

Mokuba blushed and slouched down as if trying to melt into his seat. He crossed his arms and turned to look out the window.

"Teenagers." Miss Miyoshi turned to Seto, smiling. "Too easy."

"Yeah?" Mokuba's voice was clipped and moody. "Wha'd'you know about it?"

"Cause I've got sisters."

Seto's foot nearly slipped on the gas pedal as a light turned from red to green. "You have sisters?"

"Two of them." She raised one finger. "Miku just turned sixteen last month." She raised a second. "And Rin's turning thirteen on Wednesday."

"Wednesday?" Seto laid his foot on the break as they went to turn into the suburban side of Domino City.

A car laid on its horn behind them.

Seto twisted in his seat to look at her full on. "You said nothing about your sister's birthday."

"I tried to tell you, last month, on my first day, remember?" Miss Miyoshi's voice was calm, but poisonous. "I told you I had something going on this week, but you wouldn't take 'no' for an answer, would you? They were supposed to fly in today and spend the week with me, then they'd fly home Saturday. Now I've gotta pick them up Friday night, take them to the amusement park Saturday cause I owe Rin for missing her birthday, and I have to pack up and move Sunday."

The car behind them maneuvered around, the driver raising his middle finger in Seto's direction as he passed.

Seto could not have cared less. "You should have told me."

"So you could snap at me again?" Miss Miyoshi jerked her face away, sniffing with a dismissive air. "No thanks, boss."

The silence was deafening, as if the world outside had been swallowed by an endless void. In the rearview mirror, Mokuba stared at Seto. Clenching his jaw shut, Seto turned back to the road and continued their journey. The quiet lingered.

Until Mokuba's voice broke through the tension. "You need help?"

Seto eased the car to a stop at the sign before Mokuba's friend's street. He turned to look at him, only to find that Miss Miyoshi had done the same.

"We could, I dunno, help, right Seto?" Mokuba scratched his head. "School doesn't start back up for another two weeks, so it's not like I've got anything to do."

Seto raised a brow at his reddening face.

"It'd be a lot of heavy lifting." Miss Miyoshi said, her petulant expression softening.

Mokuba shrugged. "I can handle it."

"Okay…" She tapped a finger against the center console. "How about I take you to the park on Saturday too. Call it an advanced payment."

Mokuba perked up, interest sparkling in his eyes. "Really? Isn't that expensive?"

"I came into a pretty hefty bonus recently, so it shouldn't be a problem." She looked at Seto.

Their faces were only inches apart in the confines of the space between their seats. Seto caught the familiar scent of her perfume. He could almost taste the ghost of her lips, feel the tingle where they'd connected. He'd been so determined to prevent a repeat of the last two events, he kept his distance, making sure there were always at least two feet between them.

Her voice edged toward breathless. "You're getting enlisted too, you know. I can't be the only one corralling a bunch of teenagers."

Seto could barely think. "Right."

Her lips shimmered with an iridescent gloss. It felt like his heart was trying to escape the confines of his ribcage. He wanted to taste her again. He wanted to feel her fingers ghost along his jaw, his neck.

He wanted more.

"Ugh!" Mokuba groaned. "Can you two stop? It looks like you're about to eat each other's faces or something."

Miss Miyoshi was blushing when she settled back against her seat. Her eyes never left Seto's face. He could still feel them when he turned back to the road and maneuvered into the neighborhood.

What was he thinking, allowing himself to be alone with her for three whole days?

Seto parked outside a line of buildings in a cul de sac at the end of the street. Each one was constructed the same, with only the shades of the siding and the tint of the roofs offering any individuality to their designs. He was barely able to put the car in park before Mokuba jumped out, grabbed his bag, and all but ran to the house with the basketball net mounted just about the single car garage. Seto kept his eyes on him the whole time.

"You worry about him a lot, don't you?" Miss Miyoshi asked.

He turned hard eyes on her. "Is that a problem?"

She shook her head and crossed her legs at the ankles. "It's sweet. Have you two always been close?"

Mokuba didn't look back before he went into the house. Seto could just see the shadow of his outline through the glass panel in the door, then he was gone.

"We used to be." Seto put the car in gear.

She was silent for a long time after that. It wasn't until he had merged onto the highway and was cruising at a steady speed that he glanced over to check on her. There was a distinct sag to her shoulders. She was chewing her lip as she looked down at her phone, thumb lazily scrolling the screen.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing. I was just… thinking." Her phone made a soft click as she pressed the button on the side and the screen went dark. "I guess I assumed you two were close. Sorry about that. Is there anything I can do?"

"Our relationship is none of your business."

She was silent for a while. When she spoke again her voice was small, almost sorrowful. "No. I guess not."

Her phone clicked again. She was back to staring at the screen, though this time she wasn't scrolling. It was as if she had found what she was looking for and was staring at it. She had the screen tilted away from him, as if she didn't want him to see whatever it was.

Seto gripped the steering wheel tight. Why should he care if he hurt her feelings? She should mean nothing to him. She was a blip on the radar he used to plan his life. After a few months, she'd be gone and he'd never see her again. The attraction he felt towards her shouldn't have been enough to affect him so deeply, so intensely. Once she was gone, he'd never have to feel such things again. He could go back to how things had been before.

She put down her phone to look out the window. Her arm leaned against the door, chin cradled in her hand. The gentle curves of her profile, the jut of her chin, the angle of her nose all worked in perfect harmony. The glow of the sun through the windshield set her skin alight. There was a faint sparkle to her cheeks.

It was a difficult image to stay irritated at. This woman deserved to be in the sun, in the spotlights of whatever stage she chose.

Seto's grip eased. He let out a breath. "Your concern is appreciated, but it's unnecessary. Mokuba is my responsibility. I can take care of him just fine on my own."

"You're his legal guardian? Not just his brother?"

"I have been for the last seven years, since our father's death."

"Your father…" She seemed to catch herself. "I'm sorry. That must've been hard."

"It wasn't."

She sniffed, a sharp exhale of breath that was clear in the silence. "You do that a lot, don't you?"

"Do what?"

"Make your answers really short when you don't want to talk about something. You do it at the office too. I can't get more than two words out of you when you shut down." She paused, as if expecting a reaction. None came, so she continued. "Remember the night you punched that talent scout?"

"I have been trying to forget."

"I'm just trying to understand. You keep everyone at arm's length, yet you followed me out to a bar and made a scene, just cause some creep groped my ass. It doesn't make sense."

Seto was prepared to correct her, to inform her that he hadn't been 'following' her. Not exactly, anyway, though she didn't need to know that.

She piped up before he could. "You're not, like, Batman or something, are you?"

A snort of laughter left him against his will. "No."

"No secret underground headquarters? No decked-out sedan that goes zero to the speed of sound?"

"You'll have to get used to disappointment."

She snapped her fingers. "Damn."

Seto's chuckle was deep in his chest. It was as if the atmosphere had lifted. He could breathe a little easier, though he hadn't noticed the hindrance before.

"Okay, how about this?" she asked. "You had me book the rooms, but not the fight. Why?"

"I have channels for intercontinental flights. I entrusted you with the hotel because you would know the best places to stay since you know the area more than I do."

Interest spiked the tone of her voice. "Like a private jet?"

It would be the second time she'd made him laugh in so many minutes. "You'll see."

The high ceilings of the terminal domed over with crisscrossing beams similar to a warehouse. From arches of grey painted metal hung signs indicating what row of check-in counters belonged to which airlines. Long queues of passengers weaved through the aisles, pulling along a wide array of differently sized and colored luggage. Booths lined the ceiling-high windows between rows of hard plastic seats, breaking up the dust-speckled sunlight with kitschy wears. Cheap jewelry, ugly tee shirts, and a wide array of useless knick-knacks emblazoned with Domino City's name.

It must have been the fastest Miss Miyoshi had ever gone through check-in and security, judging from the wide-eyed amazement on her face as Seto led her past every airline check-in to a small, private counter at the end of the hall. A single attendant stood there, smiling as they approached.

"Mr. Kaiba, we've been expecting you. Everything is ready per your instructions." They handed Seto a small folder, no bigger than a brochure. "The pilot is waiting for you by gate 18B."

Seto nodded and started past him, down a hall where two TSA security waited next to an empty x-ray machine with metal detecting wands. They checked their passports and tickets before giving their luggage and persons a quick scan and sending them on their way.

"They know you by name?" Miss Miyoshi asked.

Seto scoffed. "I would be more surprised if they didn't. I pay good money to have my jet housed here."

"So you do have a private jet."

He smirked down at her. "Were you expecting any less?"

She was smiling as she shrugged her shoulders. "Figured if I kept my expectations low you'd continue to surprise me."

Seto's steps faltered, nearly stopped. "I surprise you?"

Her grin was wide and sparkling. "I'd say you've surprised me at least a couple times since I started working for you, boss."

Seto didn't know how to respond. Memories of both times he'd found himself kissing her over the past month played through his mind and he had to turn away, the sound of her suppressed laughter in his ears.

They glided down the hall of gates, each gathered in groups of four, two to each side. Each group was separated by gatherings of small stores and restaurants. Through the windows, Boe 737s emblazoned with the colors and insignias of their respective airlines lumbered past. Every so often, one would race down the runway in the distance, followed by a rumble that would have been deafening if not for the thick walls of the terminal. Gate 18 stood near the end of a branch of the terminal. Slightly behind it and to the right was a single glass door leading to the tarmac. A man stood there, as tall as Seto, in a white captain's hat and uniform, his arms held dutifully behind his back. He looked to be in his forties, his hair streaked with grey and lines just making themselves known at the corners of his eyes.

His arms relaxed as they approached and one hand came up to shake Seto's. "Mr. Kaiba, a pleasure. I will be your captain for your flight."

"I trust you've read through the flight plan," Seto said.

"Yes, sir. Straight shot to Berlin, as requested. She's fueled up and ready to go."

Why anyone would assign gender to a vehicle, Seto didn't understand, but he made no comment as the pilot led them out of the terminal and down the exterior staircase.

The heat, amplified by baking asphalt and burning engines, was stifling. The air stank of rubber and jet fuel. A few meters away stood Kaiba Corporation's private jet. A set of mobile stairs had been pulled up to its open cabin door. The Cessna was sleek, painted white with a blue streak across its fuselage. On either side of its fin and both tailplanes were stenciled the logo of Kaiba Corporation. A 'K' with a smaller 'c' nestled into it.

Miss Miyoshi gave a little cry of delight at the sight of it. The sound filled Seto with warm satisfaction. He let her climb into the cabin first, the rubber soles of her sneakers creating a resonant tap, tap, tap against the hard metal steps as she mounted them at a sprint.

The inside was just as sleek and modern. Blue carpets and white leather seating for eight, with the four middle seats swiveled to face each other over rich dark wood tables, one for each pair. The captain and single stewardess took Seto and Miss Miyoshi's bags to store them within the jet's luggage compartment. Miss Miyoshi stood in the center of the cabin. Her casual attire was out of place among the expensive interior. It was fit more for secretive cruising height deals than pleasure travel, as it had been before.

"You can sit, you know," he said.

She spared a glance in his direction before sitting in one of the inner seats. Her whole body seemed to melt into it, hands smoothing along the armrests. "Being rich has its perks, doesn't it?"

Seto sat across from her. "It's better than being squeezed into a commercial craft like one of a few dozen sardines."

"You got that right." She stretched out her legs, eyes closing as she relaxed. "Most of us plebs can't afford the cushy lifestyle. When I make it big, I'm gonna get one of these. Fly around the world whenever I want."

"Not even I get to jet set whenever I want." Seto slid his computer bag under his seat. "I find it especially difficult to conduct daily business in the air."

"Shame. How many places have you been?"

"Are we returning to your prying line of questioning?"

Her eyes cracked open. "What? You do business in another country you don't want me finding out about?"

"Of course not."

She continued to stare, lips tightening into a mirthful grin.

Seto used buckling his safety belt as an excuse to look away. "Nothing untoward, I assure you. I frequent East Asia and North America, as well as the greater European region."

"Including Germany."

"I figured that went without saying."

"Yet you need me."

"I do not need you specifically. Anyone with any skill with the language would have done just as well. You only happened to be the most accessible and convenient at the time."

Silence settled between them, heavy and oppressive.

Miss Miyoshi sagged in her seat. She looked away to buckle her safety belt, then turned her eyes to the small window and opened the shade. She put her elbow on the armrest and rested her chin in her hand as she looked out at the tarmac. Just as she had done when he'd said something hurtful in the car.

Seto let out a breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. He almost wished she'd talk back at him, snap, accuse, like Mokuba did. At least his behavior had become predictable. This brooding disquiet left him regretting his words more than usual.

"Miss Miyoshi-"

The stewardess came up and put her hand on Seto's shoulder. "Mr. Kaiba, we're about to taxi to the runway."

She was pretty, thin, and blond. She filled out the private flight uniform well, though her painted lips were too bright and the shadow on her eyelids too heavy. Seto supposed someone had told her she would be manning his flight.

He shrugged off her hand. "Thank you."

She lingered for a few seconds longer, but left when she must have realized she would be getting no special treatment.

Miss Miyoshi looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Must be nice,"

"What is?"

"Having women fawn over you."

"I don't encourage the attention."

She shrugged a shoulder. "I'm not judging. I've had my fair share of guys hitting on me when I didn't want it."

"I never 'hit' on you," Seto said.

"Could've fooled me."

"That was-" He didn't finish the thought.

If he was being honest, he didn't know what either event had been. The first, because he'd wanted to provide her some semblance of comfort, because he knew her pain. The second he could not easily explain. She'd ignited the action, but he had been the one to take it further. There was something about her he couldn't explain, something that weaseled under his guard and weakened the defenses he'd put up against his urges.

"It was out of line," he said. "My actions placed expectations on our interactions that I should have known would be there afterward. It was shortsighted and caused you difficulties you didn't ask for."

Her head lifted off her hand. "Are you trying to apologize?"

"In my own way, perhaps."

"It's not like I pushed you away." She straightened in her seat, leaned forward slightly so her arms rested on the table between them. "Look, can we at least admit that we're attracted to each other? You keep talking about 'forgetting' or 'pretending', but I can't do that. I like you, got it? I like you a lot."

He kept his voice even, despite the fluttering in his belly. "You don't even know me."

"I could if you let me."

"No."

Her lips pressed into a pout. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Am I right? I mean, why would you kiss me if you weren't?"

He let his fingers drum on the table. "Fine. I'll admit that there is some attraction. You're a beautiful woman and I find your company more pleasant than some others I've spent time with in the past. You're talented and I find enjoyment in our conversations."

Her lips pressed together, as if trying not to laugh. "You do know how to talk to a girl."

"I don't hand out compliments lightly."

"Guess I should feel honored then. Little ol' me went and broke through that hard steel exterior." She placed a hand over her heart and gave a dramatic sigh. "Be still my heart."

"That's assuming too much."

Her eyes rolled. "I was joking. Do you always jump to the worst-case scenario?"

For the second time that day, Seto found himself without a response. The jet came to a stop at the end of the runway. Through the oval windows, planes lumbered past a terminal that seemed more like a playset.

The pilot's voice came from the overhead speaker. "Passengers, prepare for takeoff."

Miss Miyoshi settled back in her seat. The engines roared, sending a deep vibration through the cabin.

She closed her eyes, taking deep breaths as the engine noise reached a crescendo. The next moment the jet was screaming down the runway, the sound of the wheels whirling beneath them adding an intense rumble that shook the cabin. Planes and people and luggage carriages passed in a blur.

Then the jet was airborne, lifting into the sky with the fencing of the airport passing beneath it. After a moment Miss Miyoshi seemed to relax, letting out a long breath before opening her eyes.

Seto couldn't keep the amusement from his voice. "You should have told me you were afraid to fly."

"I like flying fine." She put a hand to her midsection. "I used to get sick during take-off and landing when I was a kid. Still makes me nauseous. I'll be fine in a minute."

He let her sit in the quiet to concentrate on her breathing. More than once she leaned forward, arms on her knees. After a few minutes, a chime overhead dinged, indicating they were free to move about the cabin. Miss Miyoshi reached for her purse. She pulled out her phone and a small plastic container. Inside were two Bluetooth earbuds.

Seto looked out his window, down at Domino Bay. "It's not something I can help."

She paused, in the process of putting the buds in her ears. "What?"

He rubbed the thumb and forefinger of one hand together. "I was taught young that there are people in this world who will act as if they want to help you. They'll convince you that they want to be your friend or your family, but, in the end, the only one they are out for is themselves." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "The stewardess, for example. She knows who I am. More than likely she's known she would be manning this flight for weeks. She dolled herself up and she'll put on the charm in the hopes that I'll let her into my bed. She may even hope that she can charm me into putting a diamond on her finger someday. It's not the first time I've dealt with women like her, and it won't be the last."

"Men want to cheat you. Women want to sleep with you, right?"

"A fair summary."

She seemed to mull over that for a while, thumb absently flicking the cover to her earbud case open and closed. "What if I said I wasn't like that?"

Her expression was earnest and she not once looked away when she spoke. There was desperation there, just not the kind he was used to seeing. To Seto, it felt as if her every hope hung on his next words.

"I would believe you," he said.

It was the most pleasant flight experience Seto has had up to that point. Throughout the day and well into the evening they talked, with moments in between where they sat in peaceful silence while he worked on his laptop and while she listened to her music or scribbled in her notebook, the same one she had used on her first day. Sometimes she would do both. Though how much work he was able to do was not as much as he would've liked. His eyes kept flicking to her over the edge of his computer to watch her head bob to the music and her lips move silently as she murmured the words.

Once, in the afternoon he asked her what she was writing.

"Just working out some lyrics," she said.

"You write your own music?"

"Write and compose. Here." She took one of the buds out of her ear and held it out to him.

Seto stared at it until she wiggled it in his direction. He slipped it into his ear and the rhythmic strumming of a guitar ceased any other thoughts he might have had. There was another sound, as if she had been humming along when she recorded it. He closed his eyes, a calm coming over him that he'd not felt since her performance at Blue Wind.

She was watching him when he opened them again, a small smile playing across her lips. "You like it?"

He pulled the bud from his ear and handed it back. "I do. If I may ask, what is it about?"

She hummed as she put the bud back in her ear, hand brushing away loose strands of hair as she did. "Not sure, but I'll let you know."

Seto hadn't bet on getting much sleep, as the idea of a mid-flight nightmare at thirty thousand feet didn't appeal to him, especially with his current company. The pilot and the flight attendant would've been bad enough, but he couldn't afford Miss Miyoshi knowing how tenuous his mental state was.

So he downed two caffeine pills before rejoining her in the cabin. She had been getting ready to nap when he went in, so he hadn't been surprised when he returned to their seats to find her reclined as far back as the seat would go. Her sneakers lay in an untidy pile beneath her, her legs curled up into the seat. The blanket the stewardess had provided her pooled around her hips. Her breath was slow and steady. Seto reached over and fixed her blanket, pulling it so it covered up to her shoulder.

She snuggled into it.

His hand hovered by her cheek. The temptation to touch, to brush the hair away from her face, was near overwhelming. Watching her sleep, the way her eyes moved beneath long-lashed lids, how her fingers rested next to her face. It was perfection, an image he wanted to commit to memory.

Seto curled his hand into a fist and pulled it back. It was not appropriate to look at her, even think about her that way. He was supposed to be her boss. But she had been right. Not even he could deny it anymore.

He wanted her.