Angela sat on her couch, dressed in soft, black joggers and a cream-colored crew neck sweater that hugged her loosely—the kind of outfit that felt like a warm hug after a long day and tonight, she needed it. Her hair was pulled into a messy ponytail high on her head, secured by a thin rose-coloured ribbon. The ribbon swayed slightly every time she shifted, its delicate neatness oddly symbolic of her—the poised professional image she carried so well at work contrasted with the more unguarded version of herself here, at home, surrounded by quiet chaos.
Her evening had been a blur, each hour dragging as her thoughts swirled relentlessly. She had started out with the laundry, hoping the rhythmic folding of clothes might calm her nerves. The basket sat in front of her, overflowing with towels and mismatched socks that she had promised herself she'd finally sort. She folded each item with precision, smoothing out wrinkles and stacking them neatly on the coffee table. But her mind refused to stay on task. Every time she reached for another piece of fabric, her thoughts drifted back to Samantha's face earlier that day—the tension in her expression, the unspoken questions hanging in the air. Angela found herself refolding the same shirt three times before giving up entirely, leaving the basket half-empty beside the couch as her focus unraveled.
Determined to be productive, she turned to her laptop. Answering emails seemed like a logical choice—something actionable to distract herself. Work had always been the one thing she couldn't be distracted from. But when she opened her inbox, the subject lines blurred together, their significance lost to the noise in her mind. She clicked on a message from a client, reread the same sentence five times, and still couldn't make sense of it. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, poised to type out a response, but the words wouldn't come. With a frustrated sigh, Angela closed the laptop and leaned back against the couch, her chest tightening as the knot of anxiety grew heavier. The emails could wait—she wasn't in any state to tackle them now.
Desperate for an escape, she reached for the novel sitting on the side table. It was one she had been meaning to finish for weeks, but each attempt to pick it up had been thwarted by interruptions—and now, her own lack of concentration. She flipped to the dog-eared page where she'd left off, skimming over the text in hopes that the twists and intrigue of the story would pull her in. But the words felt hollow and lifeless against the backdrop of her thoughts. She read an entire paragraph before realizing she hadn't absorbed a single detail. With a groan, she closed the book and set it aside, her fingers brushing the cover as if apologizing for her lack of attention.
No matter what she tried, Angela's mind kept circling back to Tony and Samantha, replaying the moments of tension and awkwardness from the office. She couldn't stop wondering how Tony's conversation with his daughter was going. Had Samantha been angry? Had she been hurt? Did she understand?—And most importantly when was Tony finally going to call her with an update? Angela sighed deeply, her hands resting against her knees as she leaned forward, staring blankly at her untouched tea growing cold on the table. She rubbed her temples, knowing it was futile to try to guess the outcome but unable to stop herself. Her heart felt heavy with uncertainty, a knot of anxiety twisting tighter the longer she sat alone in the quiet.
The sharp knock at her door startled her, cutting through the fog of her thoughts. Angela's pulse quickened as she stood, her footsteps soft against the hardwood as she approached the door and looked through the peephole. She paused briefly, her hand hovering over the handle, before pulling it open.
"Tony," Angela exhaled, her voice carrying a mixture of surprise and relief. The sight of him made her breath hitch, the tension in her shoulders loosening just slightly. "Hi," she added quietly, stepping back to let him in. "Come in."
Tony stepped inside, offering her a small smile as she closed the door behind him, the weight of her emotions lingering heavily in the space between them. Before Angela could stop herself, the words tumbled out in a rush. "How did it go with Samantha?"
Tony's lips curled into a smile, thinking about how Angela always called her Samantha—never Sam. He turned to face her, his eyes softening as they swept over her. Even in casual joggers and a baggy sweater, she was stunning—a kind of effortless beauty that struck him every time. The ribbon in her hair caught his attention, tied neatly around her messy ponytail. It felt like a symbol of her—how she could balance the polished, poised president of an advertising agency with the woman standing before him now, surrounded by a messy stack of books on a scuffed coffee table that had a laundry basket of unfolded clothes sitting next to it. Its delicate simplicity somehow made her even more endearing. She looked comfortable, but the tension in her brows and the way her lips pressed together betrayed the whirlwind of thoughts racing through her mind.
He stepped closer, resting a hand lightly on her arm, his touch steadying as if to quiet the storm within her. "Angela," he said gently, his voice warm and grounding. "Hello."
His hand trailed slowly down her arm, their fingertips hooking at the bottom. The gesture brought her spiraling thoughts to a halt, her chest tightening as she met his gaze. Tony leaned in slowly and pressed a kiss to her cheek—soft, warm, and unhurried. Angela closed her eyes briefly, the simple gesture filling the room with quiet intimacy.
He pulled back just enough to catch her eyes again, his expression calm "Things with Samantha went… as well as can be expected," he began, "She's hurt. That won't just go away overnight, but she does understand." He added, his tone compassionate.
He hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly as he added, "I think it stung more because Bonnie knew." He gave Angela a look that carried his own surprise, as if he were still processing that detail himself. Angela's breath hitched, and she exhaled deeply, her shoulders slumping with unspoken regret.
Tony continued, his voice gentle. "She feels like we were all keeping things from her. But she understands now—she understands how it all came to be." He paused, glancing briefly down before meeting Angela's gaze again. "I couldn't explain the Bonnie part… but I'm sure the two of you will get a chance to clear that up."
Angela nodded faintly, her heart sinking a little further as the weight of the day settled over her once again. Tony offered her a small, reassuring smile, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly as he softened his tone. "She told me about how everything unfolded today," he said. "I appreciate you not addressing it with her right there and then in her office—you could have, and you didn't. I appreciate that you allowed me to be the one to tell her."
"Of course," Angela nodded faintly, relief flickering in her eyes as she exhaled softly. "I didn't want to make things worse. I… I hope I didn't."
Tony shook his head, his voice steady as he continued. "She mentioned something about feeling guilty about how she left things with you today. She didn't go into details, but I'll leave that for the two of you to sort out as well."
Angela nodded softly, her chest loosening slightly, her shoulders dropping as the tension began to melt away. "So," she started hesitantly, her voice tinged with cautious hope, "she's okay with all of this?"
Tony met her gaze with quiet certainty, his eyes unwavering. "She will be. Yes," he said, his voice steady with conviction. He paused, his expression softening as he added, "She's putting up a good front, but I know my daughter. Deep down, I believe she's happy for us. She just won't admit it yet. Needs us to stew a little," he chuckled lightly. "I know she will be—happy I mean—once the hurt passes, she'll see it more clearly, even if it takes some time."
Angela sighed deeply, the weight of her breath carrying the relief she had been holding in all night. Her lips curved into a small, incredulous smile as she met Tony's eyes, her voice soft but steady. "Okay… so this," she said, squeezing his fingertips gently into the palm of her hand. "It's really happening."
Tony's smile widened, the brightness in his eyes unmistakable, his joy radiating as he nodded. Angela let out the breath she'd been holding, her heart soaring as the reality of the moment settled over her. And then, unable to stop herself, she threw her arms around him, her body pressing firmly into his.
Their lips met in a rush of emotion—soft at first, tentative, but quickly deepening as the space between them disappeared. Angela's fingers curled into the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer as her breath mingled with his, their kiss growing hungrier, more desperate with each passing second. Tony's hands traveled a steady path up and down her back, his palms firm as they settled at the small of her back.
The kiss was intoxicating, the kind that made the world fade away until nothing existed but the two of them. Angela's mind stopped racing, her thoughts silenced by the way Tony's lips moved against hers—intentional, sure, and full of unspoken promises.
When they finally broke apart, Angela let out a shaky laugh, her forehead resting lightly against his. "I've been a wreck all night," she admitted, her voice soft but carrying the weight of her earlier tension. "Waiting for news, wondering how it was going… I was waiting for you to call."
Tony spoke softly, his breath warm against her skin. "I thought about calling," he said, his voice low and even. "But then I wouldn't get to do this." He leaned in again, his lips finding hers in a kiss that was slower, deeper, filled with the kind of intensity that made all of her insecurities melt into a puddle on the floor.
Angela smiled against his lips, her hands brushing against his chest, this time lingering as she felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her fingers. When they pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm glad you came."
Tony's eyes lingered on her, his smile widening as his gaze flicked upward. "I like your ribbon," he said, gesturing gently toward her hair.
Angela blinked, caught off guard. Her hand instinctively reached up to touch the ribbon tied neatly around her ponytail. "Oh," she said, her cheeks flushing as she glanced away and started moving towards the kitchen. "You're making fun of me, aren't you? In my defense, I wasn't expecting company."
Tony's brows lifted in surprise, his smile widening as he shook his head following behind her. "No, not at all," he said quickly, his voice steady and sincere. "I mean it. There's something about it—it's simple, but it suits you."
Angela's blush deepened, her fingers brushing lightly against the ribbon as she looked back at him. "You're serious?" she asked, her voice quieter now, tinged with disbelief as she reached for her teapot and began to fill it with water.
"Completely," Tony replied, his gaze unwavering. "It's adorable. And honestly, it's one of the first things I noticed when you opened the door."
Angela let out a soft laugh, her lips curving into a small, shy smile. "Well, I guess I'll have to start wearing ribbons more often then," she said, perching herself up onto the counter next to the stove, her tone teasing but warm.
Tony chuckled, his eyes bright with amusement. "I wouldn't complain," he said, his voice low and easy. "But for the record, you don't need a ribbon—or anything else for that matter—to be perfectly stunning."
Angela's breath caught, her chest tightening as his words settled over her. She glanced down briefly, her smile growing as she tried to steady the flutter in her stomach. "You're impossible," she murmured, carrying a mix of exasperation and affection.
"Well I hope you find it endearing" Tony teased as he stepped closer, his hand brushing lightly against hers as he leaned in, dropping his voice slightly, "because I hear that often," he said, his tone playful but filled with quiet intensity.
Angela's breath caught, her chest tightening as his words settled over her. She glanced down briefly, her smile growing as she tried to steady the flutter in her stomach. She did find it endearing—more than that, really—and the realization hit her with surprising clarity. Her gaze softened as she met his eyes again, her thoughts racing. How had they grown so comfortable in such a short period of time? She almost laughed at herself, unable to come up with an answer that made sense. But deep down, she knew why. She had been waiting for this, even if she hadn't realized it. Waiting for something that felt easy, natural, right. And now that it was here, she wasn't going to let it slip through her fingers.
At almost fifty years old, she didn't have time for hesitation. Life had taught her that much. Her mother's voice echoed softly in the back of her mind, advice she had often scoffed at but now held onto like a lifeline: It's called chemistry, Learn to live a little. And so she did—she let herself lean into the moment, into the man standing in front of her who was grounding her in a way she hadn't known she needed.
Tony's thoughts mirrored hers. He had spent the better part of his adult life being Samantha's father, dedicating himself entirely to raising her, to being her steady foundation. Somewhere along the way, he had forgotten what it meant to be a man with his own needs and wants, his own heart to tend to. And now, with Samantha all grown up, finding her own footing in the world, he knew it was time to give himself permission to seek out what he'd been missing. He had spent years telling himself it could wait—that there would be time later. Now, standing in Angela's presence, feeling her warmth, her sincerity, her strength, he realized later had finally arrived. It was time to let himself want, let himself need, and allow himself to embrace everything this was becoming.
Angela tilted her head slightly, her heart racing as Tony's hand moved to cup her cheek, his touch warm as his thumb brushed lightly against her skin, a gesture so tender it made her breath hitch. She let herself feel it all—the warmth, the connection, the quiet thrill of letting go without fear. For the first time in her life, Angela wasn't holding back. And neither was Tony.
Their lips met again, Angela's legs straddled his waist and he lowered her down from the counter. As her toes found the floor beneath her, her hands brushed against his chest, her fingers trailing lightly over the firm structure beneath his shirt. The sensation sent a thrill through her, a spark of exhilaration leaving her dizzy, her thoughts dissolving into the quiet intensity of his touch. When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested lightly against one another, their breaths mingling in the stillness. Angela's lips curved into a soft, almost incredulous smile as she whispered, "This… feels like a dream," the admission slipping out, shy but heartfelt.
Tony's voice was low and warm, a comforting sound that wrapped itself around her... "I know," he murmured, his breath brushing against her skin. "But it's real, Angela. I promise you—it's real."
Heer cheeks flushed as she shifted slightly. "Yes, I guess it is," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "I still can't believe you're here."
Tony's smile widened, his gaze steady as his hand moved to brush a loose strand of hair from her face. "I wanted to be able to tell you in person," he said simply, his tone filled with quiet conviction. "I wanted to see in your face that you knew that—that it's going to be okay."
Angela's chest tightened, her heart fluttering at the certainty in his voice. She let his words settle over her, wrapping around her like a warmth she hadn't realized she'd been craving. Her gaze softened, her lips curving into a faint smile as she whispered, "I didn't mean tonight," her voice quiet but steady.
The words hung in the air, vulnerable but resolute, carrying the weight of everything she hadn't dared to say before. For the first time in years, she felt like a woman again—seen, wanted, cherished. It was a feeling she hadn't realized she'd been missing until now, and she wasn't about to let it slip away.
Angela's hands cupped his face, her touch gentle but unyielding as she drew him closer, the pull between them impossible to resist. Their lips met in a languorous, tender kiss, a kiss that carried a weight of longing so profound it seemed to stretch time itself. Seconds melted into eternity as the world blurred into nothingness around them, leaving only the electric connection they shared. Angela's fingers slipped back, threading lightly through the hair at the nape of Tony's neck, her movements deliberate but with a hint of vulnerability, as though memorizing the feel of him.
Tony's hands mirrored her urgency, sliding along her sides, his palms grounding her while his thumbs traced slow, deliberate patterns against her waist. The tenderness in his touch sent shivers down her spine, her breath hitching as the moment deepened further. They clung to each other, not out of desperation but out of an undeniable need—to feel, to stay, to revel in the consuming warmth of their embrace. Neither was ready to let go, the intensity wrapping around them like a cocoon, shutting out the world beyond.
When they finally broke apart Angela let out a breathless laugh, her cheeks flushed and her lips swollen and tingling from the fervor of it all. She tilted her head slightly, her eyes bright with amusement as she glanced toward the stove.
"I guess I'd better boil the water again if I'm gonna have that tea," she teased, her tone playful but soft, carrying the lingering warmth of the moment.
Tony chuckled, his voice low and rich, the sound wrapping around her like a second embrace. "Probably a good idea," he admitted, "we got a bit carried away." His smile wide as his fingers brushed lightly over her arm, anchoring her back to him in the most subtle way.
Angela grinned, the sparkle in her eyes unmistakable as she reached for his hand. "I'd say it was worth it."
Tony's gaze drifted over her face—the delicate curve of her cheek, the way her ribbon swayed faintly with her movements. She was captivating, and the realization hit him all at once. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take without completely losing himself in her.
He stepped back, needing to put some distance between them in order to regain his composure. "Chamomile?" he asked knowingly.
Angela paused, her mind taking a moment to catch up, her smile growing. "How'd you know?" she asked curiously.
"I could smell it when I walked in," he said simply.
Angela blinked, surprised. "It's sitting untouched and cold on the table" she gestured to her abandoned tea, "I usually have one every night before bed. Helps steady the nerves." She added, her tone light.
Tony's lips curved into a slow, easy smile, his eyes bright with amusement. Angela narrowed her gaze slightly, her cheeks warming as she misread the expression. "What?" she asked, her tone defensive but playful. "Are you laughing at me again?"
Tony shook his head, his smile widening. "First of all… I wasn't laughing at you the first time. And second of all no, not at all," he said, his voice tinged with sincerity. "I'm smiling because I do the same thing. Every night—chamomile tea before bed. It's like a ritual. But I always say the same thing—that it's calming."
Angela's eyes widened slightly, her lips parting in surprise. "Really?" she asked, her voice soft.
"Yes, really," Tony replied, his gaze steady. "Seems we're more alike than I thought." He chuckled, his voice dropping to a teasing tone.
Angela laughed lightly, shaking her head as she turned toward him. "I guess… I'll take that as a compliment." She decided, before handing Tony a mug and taking hers to the sofa.
Tony lingered for a moment, leaning casually against the counter, his stance reflecting the ease that was beginning to settle between them. Though the tension from earlier in the night hadn't disappeared completely, it had shifted, softened into something that felt new—comfortable and electrifying. Angela couldn't shake the thought that somehow everything about this felt right.
She took her seat, nudging the laundry basket aside with her foot as Tony joined her. His amused smile made her glance up. "What?" she asked, her tone playful. "I thought we already established that I'm not the prim and proper cold fish you thought I was."
"Thank God for that," he said, his grin widening as he leaned back. "Your version of you is much better than the one I had dreamed up." His tone was sincere, but the playful glint in his eye gave Angela pause, enough to let a smile creep onto her own lips.
"You dreamed about me?" Angela teased.
"Well no, because I thought you were going to be insufferable," Tony replied, his grin morphing into something wickedly amused.
Angela laughed, "I still might turn out to be," Angela warned, narrowing her eyes in mock seriousness.
"I doubt that… But I'm willing to take my chances," Tony said, his voice carrying that same mix of humor and sincerity.
Angela chuckled softly, taking a sip from her tea. "That's very brave of you," she quipped, setting the cup down. Her gaze lingered on him for a beat longer than necessary, and she swore she saw something flicker behind his easy smile—something genuine, unguarded.
Tony leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I've been accused of worse," he replied, his voice low but steady, the playfulness in his tone now tempered with something else. The moment stretched between them, charged but comfortable, until Angela broke it with a smirk.
"Well, I suppose time will tell," she said lightly, though her heart betrayed her with its quickened rhythm.
"So…" Tony began, his tone light but curious. "Are you going to tell me how Bonnie got involved?"
Angela leaned back, cradling her tea in both hands. A soft laugh escaped her, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of hesitation. "I should have known you'd ask that," she said, her voice laced with a mix of humor and something unspoken. "It's a long story."
Tony tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. "I've got all night," he said simply, his easy grin giving her the reassurance to begin. For a moment, Angela hesitated, her gaze lingering on him just long enough to make him wonder. There was a mischievous glint in her eye, as if she were weighing the possibility of testing just how committed he was to that statement.
Angela let out a soft groan, her cheeks immediately warming as she averted his gaze. "Apparently, I was glowing," she said, the words filled with a mix of embarrassment and amusement. She glanced back at him briefly, biting her bottom lip before continuing, "At least, that's what she said," she added with an eye roll trying to avoid direct contact with Tony's amused stare.
Tony's gaze flicked to her mouth, lingering for just a second too long before he caught himself. He tilted his head, his expression intrigued, though there was a flicker of something else—something unspoken—in his eyes. "Glowing, huh?" he said, his voice low, almost teasing. "I can see it."
Angela's cheeks flushed deeper, and she let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "You're one talk. As I recall, it was you that had Samantha suspicious in the first place" she muttered, her voice carrying just enough warmth to soften the words. She bit her lip again, this time deliberately avoiding his gaze, though the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth betrayed her attempt to stay composed.
"Angela, I feel like the two of us have lived a second lifetime and aged years in the last three days so I'm just gonna come right out and say this," Tony began, his tone casual but with a hint of playfulness. "Do you actually remember the kiss we shared on Sunday night? Because I do and… I think we can officially retire the whole 'pretending we weren't glowing' routine."
Angela shot him a look, her brow arching as a smirk tugged at her lips. "Fine, you win," she said with mock surrender, rising to place a quick kiss on his cheek before moving aside her folded towels and sitting on the coffee table so she could face him directly. A glint of playful amusement flickered in her eyes as she settled herself, shaking her head with a soft laugh. Picking up her teacup, she took a lingering sip, her smile still firmly in place.
"When I walked into the office on Monday morning," Angela began, her tone steady but laced with traces of exasperation, "I barely managed to say hello before she asked me if I'd met a man at the gala." She let out a short laugh. "Worried Samantha might overhear, I dragged her—literally dragged her by the wrist—into my office and shut the door behind us. And you know what she said once we were inside?" Angela paused for effect, her expression somewhere between amused and incredulous. "'I knew it,'" she mimicked with a roll of her eyes, "and she was so proud of herself too…"
Tony raised a brow, his lips twitching into a faint smile. "I've only met her a handful of times over at Sam's but…that does sound like Bonnie."
Angela laughed softly, nodding her head. "It does, doesn't it? She wouldn't let it go. She told me I looked different—lighter somehow. And then she said I was glowing—actually, I believe it was radiant—the word she used, anyway, I brushed it off. I mean, what do you even say to that?" She sighed, "But Bonnie being Bonnie, she didn't stop there. She's always been sharp, and well, she knows me too well to let me get away with it."
Angela hesitated for a moment, glancing down at her teacup as if she were trying to piece together the right words. "She started piecing things together—I kept it vague. But when you showed up for lunch—she had us pegged within seconds." Her hands gestured loosely, as though the words spilled from her fingers as much as her lips. "That was why she pulled me into my office—it was never about preparing for our client meeting, she was just trying to help." Angela sighed deeply, her gaze meeting his again. "There was no use denying it at that point. I knew we were done for."
Tony chuckled, shaking his head. "And then?"
"And then," Angela replied, her tone laced with dry humor, "she gave me the Bonnie Look—you know the one. Raised brow, arms crossed. Then she said, 'Angela, tell me you didn't know it was Sam's father when you kissed him'" Angela groaned softly, covering her face with her hands for a moment before peeking at Tony. "I guess I didn't have to tell her everything but…"
Tony's eyes were warm. "You wanted her to understand why you did it."
Angela nodded, as she replied, "Once she knew… she was completely supportive."
Tony smiled, resting his hand lightly on her knee, his touch warm and grounding. "It sounds like Bonnie cares more than she lets on," he said gently. "And honestly, it sounds like she's happy for you. For us."
Angela smiled back, a flicker of reassurance warming her expression. "She is," she said softly, leaning into the moment.
Tony leaned in, his hands brushing lightly against her thighs, the movement almost hesitant—as though he wanted to savor the moment before giving in. When his lips finally found hers, it was slow at first, deliberate, like the kind of kiss that whispered unspoken truths instead of shouting them. Then it deepened, and with it came an urgency he couldn't hold back anymore. The way she had bitten her lip during her story had tested his resolve with every passing moment, pulling his focus until it was all he could think about. Now, as their kiss lingered, it felt less like a culmination and more like a promise—a quiet surrender to the pull that had been building between them all along.
Angela pulled away suddenly, her brow furrowing and her bottom lip once again caught in between her teeth as a thought seemed to interrupt the moment. Tony let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as he leaned back slightly, catching his breath. "You have no idea," he murmured, his voice low and edged with amusement, "how many times you biting your lip nearly killed me during that story."
"You don't like it when I bite my lip?" Angela asked, her voice dripping with mischief as she leaned slightly closer, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
Tony groaned, running a hand through his hair as he leaned back, his expression caught somewhere between exasperation and surrender. "I think you know the answer to that question," he said, his voice low, almost resigned, though the way his gaze lingered on her betrayed just how much she was getting under his skin.
Angela smirked, biting her lip again—this time deliberately—and Tony let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. "You're going to be the death of me," he muttered, though the grin tugging at his lips told her he wasn't complaining.
"Quite possibly," Angela quipped, her tone teasing as she leaned back slightly. Then, almost as if a switch flipped, her expression softened, and the glint of amusement in her eyes gave way to something more serious. "But let's come back to that because I really do need to fix things with Samantha."
She exhaled slowly, setting her teacup aside, her posture shifting as if to steady herself for what she was about to say. "I need to talk to Samantha tomorrow. I need to ensure my work relationship with her isn't affected by this," she continued, her tone calm but laced with determination. Crossing her arms loosely, Angela met Tony's gaze, her voice steady as she went on. "Whatever happens between us… I can't let it seep into the way I lead or the dynamic I have with Samantha. She's brilliant—one of my strongest voices on the team—and I won't let this compromise that. I owe her professionalism, and I owe myself the ability to separate my personal life from my work life."
Her words hung in the air, deliberate and thoughtful, as though she was actively sorting through the boundaries she needed to keep intact. She exhaled deeply, her gaze steady as she added, "I need to be certain that the respect she's always had for me as her boss remains untouched. That matters more than anything."
Tony leaned back slightly, crossing his arms with a mock-serious expression. His eyes narrowed, though the glint of amusement behind them betrayed his feigned jealousy. "More than anything?" he repeated, his voice exaggerated with playful disbelief. He let the words hang in the air just long enough for Angela to roll her eyes before his grin broke through, warm and unrelenting.
Angela's lips curved into a sly smile, her eyes brightening as she leaned slightly closer to him. "Well," she began, her voice light and teasing, "maybe not more than anything. There's always room for exceptions. But I see that I've lost you…" she laughed but Tony didn't miss a beat.
He raised an eyebrow, his grin deepening. "Exceptions huh… So you're saying I might make the cut?"
Angela laughed softly, the sound warm and rich, as her gaze flicked to his. "I'd say you're definitely in the running," she replied, her tone playful but with an unmistakable undercurrent of suggestion.
Tony reached for her, his hands landing on her waist, "And uh… what about after hours?" he asked, his voice dropping slightly, laced with quiet intrigue.
Angela tilted her head, her smile growing as she held his gaze. "I'm sure we can work out an agreement that's favourable to all parties involved," she said, her words carefully chosen, blending her corporate polish with undeniable flirtation as she leaned down and pressed her lips against his.
Angela's breath caught as Tony pulled her into his lap. His hand slid up the back of her neck, his fingers tangling gently in the ribbon that held her ponytail as he deepened the kiss, his movements unhurried but filled with intent. Angela straddled him, her hands on his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as she leaned into him, her body pressing closer. The world outside faded, leaving only the quiet hum of their connection, the rhythm of their breaths mingling as the kiss grew more passionate.
Angela's lips trembled slightly against his as she whispered, "Is it crazy that I don't want you to go home tonight?"
Tony's smile softened, his eyes searching hers as he let her words settle between them. He took her in—the way her cheeks flushed, the way her lips parted just slightly, the way her ribbon had loosened, letting a few more strands of hair fall free. She was stunning, even now, in the quiet intimacy of the moment. He reached up, brushing one of those stray strands back into place, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. "Not crazy," he murmured, his voice low and steady.
Angela's breath hitched, her chest tightening as she held his gaze. The vulnerability in her question hung in the air, but Tony's presence—his warmth, his calm—made it feel less like a risk and more like a promise. She let out a shaky laugh, her lips curving into a small, tentative smile. "Good," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Because I don't think I could handle crazy on top of everything else."
Tony chuckled softly, the sound rumbling low in his chest as he leaned in, pressing a kiss to her lips. "You're not crazy, Angela," he said, his tone filled with quiet certainty. "But I don't have anything with me."
Angela's lips quirked into a mischievous smile, her voice soft but teasing as she replied, "I have extra toothbrushes… and you won't be needing pajamas."
Tony's eyes widened slightly, his composure faltering for just a moment as her words sank in. He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head as his grin broke wide. "Ms Bower, you're full of surprises," he said, his voice tinged with admiration.
Angela tilted her head, her smile growing as she watched him. "Oh, Mr Micelli—You have no idea…" she teased, her tone light but carrying an undercurrent of something deeper and daring.
Tony leaned in, his hand trailing to rest gently on the small of her back. "I think you're wrong," he said softly, his gaze locking onto hers. His voice was steady, but his eyes held an intensity that made her pulse quicken. "I think somehow… I always knew" he murmured, his voice dropping to a whisper as his lips captured hers again.
Angela froze for a heartbeat, the weight of his words settling over her like a quiet revelation. Her chest tightened, not from nerves but from the overwhelming realization that he had carried this certainty all these years—that somehow, against all odds, he had always been meant to find her.