Page 73 of Modern Romance May 2026 Books 5-8
I stand up, hands fisted at my sides as I try to summon some kind of patience. I have no idea who is knocking on my door at seven in the morning on a freaking Sunday, but they better have a damn good reason for it.
I put my eye to the peephole…and nearly swallow my tongue.
Aiden’s there. Right outside my door.
“I know you’re there, Seraphina.”
I lean my forehead against the door. Heat burns away the last of my inner peace and replaces it with some of my sordid dreams from the night before. Dreams of Aiden actually kissing me, his hands cupping my breasts, undoing the ties of my top—
I swallow hard. Dreams. They were just dreams. And they’ll never be more than dreams. He’s probably here to demand an explanation, if not my resignation.
And if he does,I firmly tell myself,you’ll give it to him along with your best wishes to go to hell.
I’ve survived far worse things than unemployment. And if Aiden is truly going to hold me to such a ridiculous double standard given his past, then working for him is no longer a good fit for me anyway.
“Open the door, Seraphina.”
Slowly, I undo the lock and open the door. And scowl. I’m in a sports bra and leggings, my hair pulled up into the messiest of messy buns. Zero makeup, traces of sweat on my face.
And then there’s Aiden Hawke. Face freshly shaven, hair combed back from his broad forehead, sporting a gray blazer and matching pants with a crisp white shirt.
How the hell does the man look this put together on a weekend morning?
“Aid…” I clear my throat. “Good morning, Mr. Hawke.”
“Seraphina.”
He starts to move forward. I angle my body to block the doorway. A move that sends a clear message that I have no interest in allowing him inside my apartment, but also has the unfortunate effect of bringing us within inches of each other. I know his scent: smoky wood and spicy warmth. But here, with me in a bra and leggings and him so close I can feel the heat of his body, his fragrance is earthier, more sensual.
My hand tightens on the doorframe. His gaze is fathomless, shadowed.
“May I come in?”
I suddenly feel very, very tired. I didn’t get home until past midnight. I tossed and turned for hours. And having my boss see me like that…
Fire dancing has given me so much in the past year— confidence, strength, passion. When I dance, I pour myself into every move. Knowing Aiden saw me like that makes me feel raw. Vulnerable. And I hate it.
“Can we talk tomorrow? I’m busy and I…”
My voice trails off as he holds up the newspaper. I stare at it, confused. Then, slowly, I realize what I’m staring at. My lips part, flap uselessly as I try to form words.
Him. Me. Our bodies way too close. And a sordid headline that leaves me hollow.
“What…” So many thoughts rush through my mind I grow dizzy. My hand clamps down so tight on the doorframe I might get splinters. “That’s not possible.”
“Unfortunately, it is.”
Aiden’s grim voice breaks through my shock. I tear my eyes away from the grainy photo of us by the lake and focus on him.
“I had nothing to do with—”
“I know that, Seraphina.” He glances over his shoulder. “Now let me in before one of the photographers lurking downstairs snaps a photo of us.”
My jaw drops. “What?”
“Now.”
He barks the word like an order, but he doesn’t push his way past me. I register that as I step back and finally let him pass before I close the door and slam the dead bolt into place. I keep staring at the door for far too long. But I need this moment before I face him. Need to get a grip on my racing thoughts, on my pounding heart, on the fear rising up inside me.
