Chapter Five

The room was silent when Alison opened her eyes. Pale morning light bled through the tall windows, casting a soft gray over the sheets tangled around her legs. For a moment, she lay still, unsure of where she was… then it hit her. The scent of him. The feel of his hands. The way her body still ached in places only he had touched. Her lips parted, air catching, the memory rushing back in waves that left her flushed under the covers.

She sat up slowly, sheet pulled to her chest, eyes scanning the room. It was empty. He was gone. Her heart gave a dull thud as she spotted something on the nightstand. A piece of paper. His handwriting—elegant, neat. She picked it up with trembling fingers.

> I had an early meeting. I didn't want to wake you.

The spare room is yours anytime you need to breathe. —R.

Alison stared at it, rereading the last line like it might change. She didn't know how to feel. A part of her had hoped he'd be there when she woke up, to say something—anything. But this? A spare room and a cryptic line about breathing?

She took a slow breath, then forced herself out of bed. Her dress from last night lay on the floor like discarded evidence. She picked it up, dressed quickly, found her heels by the door. The house was quiet. Too quiet. Grand, cold, and beautiful in a way that didn't feel lived in. No pictures. No clutter. Just stillness. Like him.

She called a cab, said nothing during the ride, and by the time she reached her apartment, her head was spinning. Michelle was already up, lounging in oversized PJs, cereal bowl in hand, her phone glowing in her lap.

Michelle raised a brow as Alison stepped in, clothes wrinkled, hair still tousled. "Well, well, well. Look who decided to show up."

Alison didn't reply. She slipped out of her heels, walked toward her room.

"Alison." Michelle's voice followed. "Where did you sleep?"

Alison hesitated by the doorway, her back still turned. "Nowhere."

Michelle snorted. "Your nowhere smells like cologne and regret."

Alison shut the door behind her without answering. She leaned against it, eyes closed. Her body still felt like it belonged to someone else. It wasn't like last time. This time she wasn't drunk. She wasn't heartbroken. She knew exactly what she was doing. And she had wanted it. God, she had wanted it. But now?

Now she didn't know what it meant. And worse she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

By the time Alison got to work, she had replayed everything a hundred times. His hands, his mouth, the way he looked at her like she was the only thing he needed to survive—and then left her with a damn note. She told herself not to expect anything, but she couldn't help it. Not when her body still remembered every inch of him.

The elevator doors slid open and her heart jumped. He was there, standing beside the glass window in his office, phone in hand, the usual unreadable expression plastered across his face. Alison walked past him, shoulders stiff, pretending she didn't notice the way his eyes brushed over her like she was no more than part of the furniture. He didn't call her in. He didn't say good morning. He didn't even look at her like he had seen her bare and trembling beneath him just hours ago.

The silence burned.

She sat at her desk, typing nonsense, fingers frozen over the keyboard. He was talking to Luisa, giving instructions, something about Tokyo and contracts, like she didn't exist. Not even a flicker of recognition. Her chest tightened. Was that all she was? A release? A convenient body?

When he walked past her later with a cup of espresso in hand, murmuring something to Candace, she finally snapped.

She followed him into his office, shut the door behind her, voice low and sharp. "So that's it?"

He didn't look up. "Is there a problem, Miss Grant?"

Her stomach flipped. Miss Grant. As if they were strangers. "You really think you can act like nothing happened between us?"

He set down his cup, finally meeting her eyes. Cold. "I don't mix business with pleasure."

"You didn't seem to have a problem with it last night."

His jaw clenched, but his voice remained smooth. "It was a mistake."

Alison stared at him, stunned. The blood drained from her face. "A mistake?"

He turned to his screen like she was dismissed. "You're dismissed, Miss Grant."

Her throat ached. She wanted to scream. To cry. To slap him. But all she did was nod, lips trembling as she opened the door and stepped out.

Back at her desk, she clenched her fists under the table. So that was what he thought of her. A mistake. Something he could touch, use, and walk away from. Again. Her stomach twisted.

She should never have let it happen. Not again.

This time she wasn't drunk. And that made it worse.

Alison managed to keep her face still until lunch hour. The second the floor cleared a little and no one was watching, she slipped into the empty break room and locked the door. Her back hit the wall and her hand flew to her mouth. Her chest caved in silently, and the tears she'd been holding back finally slipped out. She couldn't understand why it hurt so much. It wasn't like she didn't know what kind of man he was. But still… the way he acted, like she meant nothing, like she hadn't just given him all of her… it felt like being torn in two. She wiped her eyes quickly and rinsed her face before stepping out again, pretending everything was fine.

When she returned to her desk, there was a paper cup of coffee waiting. She blinked in confusion until she saw Jason standing beside her desk with his usual lopsided smile. "You looked like someone stole your sunshine," he said. "I figured you could use a caffeine rescue."

She tried to smile, but it came out weak. "Thanks."

He leaned his elbows on the desk, lowering his voice. "Rough day?"

She hesitated. "Something like that."

Jason nodded slowly. "Heard the boss can be a storm in a suit. Don't let him get to you. No job is worth your mental health, Ally."

Her eyes flicked up at the name. Nobody had called her that in years.

Jason grinned, trying to lighten the air. "You remember in college when that cat chased you across the quad and you tripped over my backpack?"

She laughed before she could stop herself.

"See? Still got it," he said with a wink. "Anytime you need to reset your mood, come find me. I'll make you laugh. Or at least spill coffee on myself trying."

She nodded, touched more than she could say. Jason didn't know what she was going through, but somehow, his presence eased the burn just a little. And for the first time that day, she didn't feel completely alone.

Jason stood there longer than he should've, watching Alison cradle the coffee cup like it was anchoring her to the earth. She looked exhausted, like something had drained the light out of her. He hated seeing her like this. In college, she used to laugh without holding back, bright, real, effortless. She'd never noticed how much he watched her then, or how every time she touched his arm while talking, his heartbeat jumped. She was sunshine back then. But now… now she looked like a storm had passed through her heart. And seeing no ring on her finger still gave him a flicker of hope, even if he didn't understand why it mattered so much to him.

Across the hallway, behind the tinted glass of his office, Ralph stood with his hands in his pockets, eyes locked on Alison and Jason. He didn't move. His jaw was clenched tight, but even he didn't know why. Why the hell was he watching her? Why was it bothering him that she's smiling at another man? Her laugh? She was free to talk to anyone, wasn't she? It wasn't like they were anything. What they did last night… it was a mistake. A moment of weakness. Heat. Lust. That's all. But the ache in his chest said otherwise. And the image of her body underneath his, her soft moans, the way her fingers clung to his shoulders like he was the only thing she needed, it was driving him insane.

He turned from the glass, ran a hand down his face. He couldn't afford distractions. Feelings were messy. They clouded judgement. And Alison Grant was turning into a dangerous distraction. But just as he picked up his phone to distract himself with work, it vibrated with a new message.

> "I'll be visiting, Ralph. Yours —Jane."

His grip tightened on the phone. Why on earth is she visiting??

A wave of something else hit him. Something sharp. Something bitter. And suddenly, Jason's stupid smile felt like a blade against his nerves.