Page 20 of Executive Privilege

"Drive safely, Sadie," he says, and there's almost desperation in the way he says my name.

I get in my car and sit there for a moment, watching him walk to his own vehicle. My lips still taste like him, my skin still burns where he touched me, and I know with absolute certainty that there's no going back to professional chemistry and careful boundaries.

Whatever just happened between us was too real, too intense, too completely inevitable.

Chapter 6: First Surrender

I change outfits three times before settling on a black dress that's professional enough to not scream "I made out with my boss in a parking garage last night" but fitted enough to remind him exactly why he kissed me and make him want to do it again.

The gallery is in the arts district, a converted warehouse with exposed brick and industrial lighting that somehow manages to feel both raw and sophisticated. I arrive exactly on time, because showing up early would look eager and showing up late would look like I'm playing games.

Nicholas is already there.

He's standing in front of a large abstract painting, hands clasped behind his back, looking every inch the successful CEO in his perfectly tailored navy suit. From across the room, he looks completely composed.

But when he turns and sees me, takes in my dress, desire flickers across his face before he can control it.

"Sadie," he says as I approach, his voice carefully neutral. "You made it."

We stand there for a moment, the weight of last night hanging between us like a third person. Finally, Nicholas gestures to the painting.

"What do you think?"

I study the canvas—bold strokes of red and black that seem to move even though they're perfectly still. "It's angry," I say. "Passionate. Like the artist was working through intense emotions."

"Interesting interpretation."

"You disagree?"

"I think you're probably right." He moves closer, ostensibly to point out a detail in the painting's composition, but the proximity sends heat through my chest. "Diego—the artist—was going through a difficult period."

"Diego's your friend," I remember. "The one who owns the gallery."

"Since we were kids. He introduced me to art, actually. Taught me to see beyond the obvious."

There's a personal quality in his voice, a glimpse of the Nicholas who exists outside Event Horizons and business meetings. "Where is he? I'd love to meet him."

"He's here somewhere, probably charming potential buyers." Nicholas's mouth quirks upward. "Fair warning—Diego has no filter and will ask you inappropriate questions about your intentions."

"My intentions regarding what?"

The question hangs in the air between us, loaded with implications from last night. Nicholas's eyes drop briefly to my mouth before he catches himself.

"Art," he says, but his voice is rougher than before.

Right. Art.

We move through the gallery while discussing brushwork and composition. Every casual touch—his hand on my lower back as we navigate the crowd, his breath against my ear as he leans in to explain a technique—feels charged with the memory of his mouth on mine.

"Nicholas!" A warm voice calls from across the room, and a man with kind brown eyes approaches us. He's got the kind ofeffortless style that comes from not caring what people think, and when he smiles, his whole face transforms.

"Diego," Nicholas says, and I'm surprised by the genuine affection in his voice. "Excellent turnout tonight."

"Better than I expected." Diego's attention shifts to me, and his smile turns speculative. "And you must be the mysterious Sadie I've heard so much about."

I glance at Nicholas, who looks like he wants to disappear. "You've heard about me?"

"Oh yes. Nicholas called yesterday to ask if he could bring someone to the opening. First time in two years he's brought anyone to one of my shows." Diego's grin is wicked. "I was very curious to meet the woman who finally got his attention."