Author's Note: Hey everyone! Thank you for your patience as I worked on this chapter. I had an original idea that was not flowing, and then, BAM, it hit me... two days ago. And I got it to the fabulous Pia Bartolini yesterday at noon, and she turned it around in 24 HOURS... with the BEST comments XD

AND I AM SO EXCITED TO SHARE THIS WITH YOU!

Just a small disclaimer: aside from the characters and anything related to Sailor Moon not being mine in any way, shape, or form, the legal scenario below is fictitious and does not depict any actual person or event. Thanks!

I hope you all enjoy! Let me know what your thoughts are :D

It's amazing how thinking "things are back to normal" is the moment you fall back in your routine.

Today started off like any other day: yell at kids to get up, get dressed in whatever clean outfit looked somewhat decent, yell at kids to get dressed, rub some moisturizer into my face, yell at kids that cereal is at the table, consume 5 cups of coffee… all before 8 am.

I'm not sure why I thought the morning routine would be any different. My salacious rendezvous with Darien was the last thing on my mind; morning Mom duties consumed all of my thoughts. Coupled with the noise of Rice Krispies crunching in the background, any of the aforementioned tawdry events stay on the back burner. I reload the kids' school lunch accounts with money (followed by a quick scolding to Elsie that a bagel does not equal a complete meal), we spend 15 minutes looking for Alex's other sneaker, resulting in the kids nearly missing the bus.

After watching the mad dash to the bus from the front door, I inhale a protein bar, toss one of the multiple boxes of frozen meals into my bag, grumble as Dory's engine takes a few tries to turn over, make my way into the city, and, FINALLY, arrive at work.

Holy smokes I'm exhausted. Even my mental tally sounds overwhelming.

Of course, it would figure that the first time any circumspection hits me is when I finally pull into the parking lot. Darien's car parked in the reserved spaces jolts me out of Mom-mode and back into this realty. Then, only then, do I feel my palms begin to sweat in recognition of what transpired over the last few days.

I had sex.

I had sex with a man that was not my husband.

I had sex with a man that was not only not my husband, but a man that I'm not in any kind of… committed…relationship with. Because we certainly have a relationship. A professional one.

It would figure that all of this hits me now. Yeah, the last 72 hours were… oh, fuck it. The last three days were more than I could have ever wanted. It was hot. Scandalous. More than my wildest dreams ever could have imagined! And I had lots of them… lots.

At this point, all I need is Darien propped on my bed, wearing my bathrobe, and eating a candy bar to really make shit weirder than it is.

Unfortunately, though, now my moral compass begins to spin like crazy. I don't do things like this! Hell, I'm newly separated! The divorce hasn't even been FINALIZED! And yet I was so quick, so eager to jump into bed with another man? And not just any man… my BOSS?

Not to mention, how the HELL am I going to go inside and act like things are… are… normal?! Can I even LOOK at Darien without giving it all away? I have the worst poker face, as my friends have been quick to point out. I groan; Lita's going to pick up on it immediately, I just know it. I can see it now: us in the lunch room, her teasing me, asking those leading questions that she's so fucking good at asking. And then I'll turn tomato-faced and eventually let it spill, because, FUCK, it was SO GOOD.

And then she'll know.

And then Ken will know.

And then the office will know.

And then I'll get fired. Or labeled a slut. Or accused of sleeping my way to the top. Or all of the above! Or a… I don't know?!

Annnnd now I've gone and officially freaked myself the fuck out.

I let out a frazzled breath, my weak attempt to calm down. Why the hell didn't I schedule this nervous breakdown for the confines of my bedroom last night rather than the parking lot of my office? And at… 8:09. Okay, so now I'm officially late on top of it. Just great.

Closing my eyes, I whisper my mantra, "Suck it up, buttercup, and let's go." I remain still for a moment, then nod my head. I can't just stay in the parking lot and freak out. I have work to do, likely a sizable amount since I've been gone for three days. So, just go in there, walk straight to your desk, turn on your computer and dive in. Yes. Yes, this mission is perfect. Don't allow any distractions, don't stop and chat with anyone. Go in. Sit down. Do your work.

I pull at the door handle, wincing a little as the door screeches opens, and close it behind me. Focus on putting one foot in front of the other as I clutch at my bag, all while trying to breathe. My nerves feel like it's the first day I've ever been here, but I can't help it. Things are going to be different. Things are going to change.

Or, maybe… just maybe… they won't?

The realization startles me as I pull at the brass handle of the doorway. What if he wants to forget any of this ever happened?

A new circulation of thoughts flood my mind as I walk through the building. What if this was just a one-time thing? Or he was swept up in the setting of being away from our normal lives? For all I know, he was just looking to get laid and I was the willing participant. Maybe it was the booze that gave us the confidence, or heightened our desire to do this. Or… or…

Shit.

I drop my bag on my desk, the loud thud carrying over the melody of keystrokes and printers. Ugh, so much for being discreet. If anything, I've just announced my late arrival to work. Items spill out of my purse onto my desk and today is going to be one of those days if I don't get a grip.

I take stock of my desk as I shove my items back into my bag, noting my once-empty inbox is now stacked with paperwork.

Bingo! The perfect distraction!

I quickly shove my purse off to the side of my desk and reach for the paperwork, powering my computer on in the meantime. I flip through the redlines of the documents as my computer boots up, pleased that today's work will be plentiful. Editing depositions means no thinking of steamy sex with Darien. Or how good his muscles felt beneath my fingertips. The way he gripped my hips when I was on top of him, with those skillful hands digging into my—

"SERENA."

My eyes widen at the realization my name is being bellowed out, snapping to the source. And there he is, the man of my fantasies, standing in his doorway. Only it's not quite the look I would have hoped for. In fact, he looks mighty… impatient.

Oh. He needs me. And not in that way.

"Yes?" I squeak out automatically, grabbing my laptop off of the dock in the process. God damn, that man looks so good, even though he's about to lose his shit on me. Oh boy, he's stressed about something. It's obvious. Oh no. Did someone find out? Am I fired? How? When?! Shit, I KNEW I shouldn't have done that whole keycard thing! Damn it! Damn it all!

"Get in here, now!" he exclaims as he waves me over, and I feel my legs turn to led. Yup; I'm fired. Fired. Fired fired fired fired. I want to cry, can feel the lump forming in my throat. I force myself out of my chair with a shaky breath and make my way to his office, convinced everything I've worked for is over. All because I wanted to have sex with my boss.

As I approach the doorway, however, my fears vanish. There's a group of people with notepads and laptops and copies of paperwork. Then it dawns on me; it's a meeting. A meeting that, maybe if I wasn't late to work or opened my email instead of fantasizing about Darien, I would have known I needed to be in. Which also explains the justifiable annoyance he had with me this morning.

And just like that we're back in familiar territory. He's my boss, I am his assistant. And I have a job to do.

At least, that's what I tell myself as I make my way to the back corner of the room. I quietly open my laptop on the small table Darien uses for his one-on-one meetings. Hurriedly opening my word processor, I type the date and time of the meeting while Darien leans against his desk. Seated in front of him is Anne, Rubeus, and Catsi; an odd mishmash of colleagues. Silently, though, I'm relieved to see no one from HR, meaning our secret remains safe.

"We've been retained by NorthShore International as they begin the process to transfer control of Monroe Realty Management, LLC," Darien prefaces to the group before him. "NorthShore is a REIT company based out of Portland, whereas Monroe Realty is headquartered here." Darien pauses as he folds his arms together. "Surely, you're all aware of Monroe's current situation?"

Everyone in the room nods, myself included. Monroe Realty is a local, and once-prominent, tenant leasing company that managed hundreds of properties across the country. Unfortunately, they took one too many shortcuts on their taxes and got busted by the Feds.

"The reason why I asked all of you here is because this isn't just a normal purchasing transaction. NorthShore has asked us to take a very close look at the rental portfolio. We need to examine everything; claims on the buildings, work done to the properties, the lenders, if any outstanding loans are delinquent, and so on. This isn't going to be easy work. It's going to be a lot of digging. But we need to make sure that every single building is cross-checked and has zero liability before NorthShore completes their transfer."

The group nods, their faces stoic. Not easy work indeed; a lot of research means a LOT of late nights.

"There is significant pressure from the lenders to get these properties transferred, so unfortunately, time is going to be of the essence on this one," Darien adds with a frown. "However, NorthShore has already agreed to our billing proposal, so make sure you account for all your time. All of it."

The team turns to discussing strategy while I continue to feverishly type, listening as they rattle off potential staff to be a part of their designated groups. Currently, they've divided the teams into regions, and are now arguing which staff member they want to assist on who's team. I grimace at how miserable it sounds; certainly no glamour or glitz behind this kind of work. It sounds like a lot of late nights on the internet, phone calls, and reviewing reams of financial statements to make sure everything is in the-

"I think that we should pull Serena onto the paralegal team," Darien suddenly announces, thwarting my typing. I can't help but hesitate as I look up from my computer screen, four sets of eyes briefly falling on me before turning back to their discussion.

"What?" Anne chides, which ruffles my feathers slightly. "Darien, she's not a registered paralegal. No offense, Serena," she tactfully adds, which has me suppressing an eyeroll. Sure, no offense, bitch. If you think I didn't like you before…

"We need all the bodies we can get, Anne, and Serena's cost per hour is significantly lower. Plus, she has the experience," Darien counters. My heart warms at the vote of confidence, even if I'm not quite sure I agree.

Rubeus is nodding. "She did crack that Pharmaceuticals case," he chimes in.

Catsi is quick to side with Rubeus. "I don't see the harm in it. Darien makes a good point with her cost, especially if she has the experience. You do have the experience, right, Serena?" she suddenly redirects to me.

"I, um," I sputter briefly before I compose myself. Girl, THIS is your moment. SEIZE IT. "When I worked under Damien I did a lot of research for his casework, yes."

Rubeus is still nodding feverously, probably because he likes how cheap I come, meaning more profit for the Partners. Anne, however, is not sold.

"Then why aren't you a paralegal, Serena?" she flat-out asks me. My stare narrow at her; what the heck is her deal? Is she irritated that I might be of some assistance? Or is it… that I'm a threat to her? Because Darien suggested it? I feel an evil smile curl inside me. You want to challenge me? Okay then. Game on.

"Actually, Anne, as a legal assistant, it falls under my scope of work that to be actively involved in case preparation. If I were a legal secretary, which I am not, there would be a bit more restriction on that. I just have limited client and court room contact is all, really," I add with a smile. In the distance I see Darien smirk briefly, knowing that I've come back with one hell of a rebuttal, one that has left Anne silent.

I grin to myself as I look back down at my keyboard, continuing to type additional notes as the leaders press forward. We work through an email together to the selected team, move scheduling mountains to get the interns cleared off of other cases and put on this one, and schedule both a collective group meeting and strategy meetings by property regions.

It is hours later when we conclude, Anne, Catzi, and Rubeus being making their way out of Darien's office. However, as I begin to close my laptop, he taps at the table to get my attention.

"Can you hang back for a minute?" he asks so casually, you'd never guess I'd seen him naked just days ago. I nod and sit back down, watching him as he walks the team out of his office. When it appears that they've made their way to their own offices, he turns back into the room and closes the door.

He makes his way to the table, my gaze fixated on his forearms. At some point during the meeting, he unbuttoned the cuffs of his sleeves and rolled them up, the material resting just below his elbow. I am not sure what it is about exposed forearms, but, damn, they're downright sexy. Darien's especially. All tan and muscular, accented by dark hair and a golden watch.

Down girl, down.

In all honesty, I half expected him to try and kiss me, or touch me, or give me one hell of an ankle-weakening kiss. So, it was a big surprise when he sat across from me and folded his fingers together instead.

"I just want to make sure you're comfortable with the role I just assigned to you," he states diplomatically. I blink a couple of times to register that we are talking about work.

I swallow to moisten the disappointment lingering in my throat as I speak. "I am," I reply. "I'm assuming a lot of late nights, a lot of phone calls and research, yes?"

Darien nods in confirmation. "If at any point it becomes too much for you, or your other responsibilities get in the way, just let me know, okay?" he offers considerately.

"Okay."

"I do think you can do this," he continues. "And if my father entrusted you with this kind of work prior to my coming here, I have to believe that you know what you're doing. And we need all the people we can for this one. But you already know that."

I nod my head again, listening as he speaks to me as a mentor instead of… whatever we are. Or aren't. Unfortunately, rather than focus on this opportunity to prove myself, all I can think about is what is not being discussed. Are we something? Are we nothing?

And then it hits me. Why am I obsessing over this instead of the opportunity? This is what I have dreamed of for years. Years! So why am I fretting over the brief encounter that we shared? Why am I stuck in my head, wishing that I could define this? Why not just chalk it up to an indiscretion, a fun time, and move forward in my career? After all, I was just saying that I am still technically married. And the day after we slept together I did say I didn't want to define anything. So why now? Why am I so hung up?

I cross my ankles, ignoring the pulsing between my legs that is screaming the answer at me. There is no way I'm letting my vagina bring me down. This is my dream. Sure, it's paralegal work, but it's a step up from where I am now. It's a step in the direction that shows my worth to this firm. That I am an innovator. That I am a team player.

I smile to myself in renewed determination. "I'm ready to accept the challenge," I reply to him in full confidence. "And I know that I'll be of value. Thank you for recommending me to assist with the team."

My heart melts slightly at his answering smile, but I force myself to assume his intent is pride instead of any sort of romantic assessment. If I continue to think sexy thoughts, I won't be able to focus on this opportunity.

Which means… I should probably close the door on another indiscretion, shouldn't I?

My heart sinks in rebellion at the thought.

I really, really enjoyed my time with Darien, both in and out of the bedroom. Yes, the last few days I got to know him intimately, but that time we went out for dinner? I had so much fun conversing with him, laughing and smiling. I would absolutely love to do something like that with him again. But… I also know the probability of a romantic repeat is damn near impossible. Our working relationship prohibits us from ever, ever being more than a weekend fling. Unless I quit my job or transfer departments. And that is something I am not willing to do.

I catch Darien just as he's shifting his weight in his seat. "Listen," I say in a hesitant voice, "about the other night…" I gulp as his eyes widen, staring at me in both interest and what I can only conclude as disbelief that I'm actually discussing it here. The words feel like lead as they roll off my tongue. "I don't know if we should do that again."

Darien narrows his eyes as he purses his lips, and I'm convinced he's about to interrupt me and tell me to stop. Surprisingly, though, he stays silent. And sadly, I take that as confirmation to continue.

"I just think that this opportunity... it's best I focus on it."

"Uh huh," Darien answers slowly, his eyebrow raised at me as he cocks his head slightly. Ugh. Cocks. I internally wince, his was so fantastic.

"I hope that's… okay?"

He stays still for a moment, and in all honestly, I am slightly confused by his mannerisms. Is he surprised? Hurt? Or is he playing dumb and acting like the last three days never happened? I am even more confused when he suddenly smiles at me. Not the sincere, proud smile from earlier. It's one of confidence. One of… determination.

"Okay," he finally answers as he leans back in his chair.

"Okay?"

"Yeah, okay. We can just pretend nothing ever happened," he banters with that smile. Of course in that moment my resolve betrays me, the way he lazily crossed his leg, his chest puffed out from leaning in his seat, his shirt contouring against his firm, chiseled chest…

"Uh, yeah," I agree with a frown. Okay, this 'cutting off' thing is a LOT harder than I thought it was going to be. Darien suddenly adjusts himself, leaning into the table while resting his chin on his fist. He's still wearing this grin, this… all-knowing grin. A grin that is probably going to be my demise. Unfortunately, now I am doubting everything I just proclaimed moments before. Shit, now I'm about to contradict myself. Don't do it. Don't say it. Don't-"It's the right thing to do… right?"

"Is that what you want?"

I frown. No. No, it's not. But what else can I do? I need to focus on this opportunity. I need to. For my babies. For my self-worth. For me.

But damn it, Darien is good for me too, right?! At least, he can be, if I let him be! But is a secret relationship good for me? Jeopardizing my job at each encounter? Is the risk worth the reward?

Darien must sense my inner turmoil, because he gently, and very discretely, brushes his fingertips against my wrist. I feel a jolt at the site of contact, my heart racing in response.

"Focus on the opportunity," Darien guides. Our eyes connect, my turmoil soothed by those hypnotic, stormy blue orbs. "Moments like this do not come around very often. Seize it."

I return a small nod, followed by an even smaller smile.

He removes his hand, the skin where it lingered now tingling from lack of warmth. We simultaneously stand up and I drink in the sight of him once more. After all, once I leave this room, I've closed the door on any sort of relationship that extends beyond professional. And it hurts. Even though I suggested this, it hurts so damn much right now.

"Thank you again, for the opportunity," I say, praying with all my might that I don't sound like I'm about to break down and cry. Because I am happy. I am so excited to do this work and maybe move up from my position. But I feel like I'm about to lose something I'm not sure I want to lose. And that… that uncertainty? It's a tough one to swallow.

Deciding that there is no more to say, I make my way to the door. My arm extends for the bronze handle only to see that Darien's hand has reached for it as well. I can't help but gasp at the contact from the sides of our hands brushing, a trail of electrifying bursts skate up my arm. My eyes flutter shut as I feel his presence shift closer to the door, the trace of his cologne getting stronger. Our hands remain frozen on the upright handle, but the gap between us has closed.

We remain still. My head is telling me to go, to open the door and walk away. Focus on the opportunity. The opportunity. But my body is screaming to turn around, to kiss him, touch him, press my body against him and take it back. Because I want him. I want him so fucking badly.

And he… he knows it.

I bite down on my lip when I feel his hand hesitantly rest on my hip, only to feel my insides squirm when I feel him apply the slightest amount of pressure from his hold.

We shouldn't be doing this.

I let my neck fall slightly to the left, very aware of the hair on the back of my neck standing from the warmth of his breath. The sensation sends goosebumps down my spine, straight to my core, and I am damning myself.

We shouldn't be doing this…

And yet…

We… shouldn't…

I pivot my body…

Be…

My back pressed up against the narrow space between his door and the windowpane…

Doing…

Recognizing the look in his eye, the hunger… the need… for…

This.

And when he kisses me, when his fingertips dig further into my hips as I move my hand from the door handle and up the smooth hollow of his cheek, I willingly let temptation triumph.

After all, he did tell me to seize the opportunity.

And I'd be a damn liar if I didn't want to have my cake and eat it, too.