Firebird.
No one else on this planet would think to call me that. His command is quiet, almost gentle, but it carries the weight of every unanswered call between us.
My palm is still pressed flat against the door, fingers splayed wide as if I could push through the wood and escape into the empty corridor beyond. I turn slowly, my back meeting the solid surface of the door.
Suddenly, I find myself looking up into hazel eyes that hold nothing back while his arm remains braced on the door above my head.
"This is wrong…" My voice comes out steadier than I expect. "Whatever you think you feel for me, whatever you think this is… It cannot happen."
"Tell me you don't want this then." His voice is low, unhurried, and my pulse stutters. "Tell me you'd rather go home to a man who leaves marks on your skin than stay here with someone who would burn the world down before letting anyone hurt you again."
The challenge lands between us, precise and unavoidable.
I open my mouth to deliver the denial he's asking for, to give us both the clean ending this moment deserves. But my throat closes around the words, refusing to release them.
"I can't say that." The admission scrapes out of me, raw and reluctant. "But I do have a husband. And I have a baby growing inside me that belongs to him. There is no version of this that ends well for either of us."
"You keep listing obstacles like they're conclusions." His free hand rises slowly until his palm settles against my cheek. The touch is devastatingly gentle. "But they're just problems, and problems have solutions."
"Not all of them." I lift my hands to his forearms, intending to push him away. But my fingers curl around his wrists instead, and my arms go weak and heavy, and I cannot seem to make them obey the instructions my mind is sending. "The baby isn't yours, Finn."
"I know." His thumb traces a slow arc across my cheekbone, and his eyes never leave mine. "But I’ll love that child anyway. Because it is the continuation of you. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"
This sounds like a dream.
This sounds like every fantasy I've had at three in the morning while Daniel snored beside me and I lay awake calculating how many more paychecks until I could afford a deposit on a studio apartment.
How many more bruises until I found the courage to file the papers I've drafted in my head a hundred times.
"Even if I filed for divorce tomorrow…" The words scrape out of me, raw and reluctant. "You don't understand what he's like when he feels like he's losing control of something he considers his. He would drag me through every court in this city. He would make my life a living hell."
"Let him try." His voice is steady, certain in a way that leaves no room for argument. "I have an entire team whose sole purpose is to make problems like Daniel Palmer disappear from the lives of people I care about."
His thumb brushes across my cheekbone again, impossibly gentle.
"You will never have to face him alone again, Aubrey. I will put so many lawyers and restraining orders between you and that man that he won't be able to get within a hundred feet of you."
He tilts my face up, forcing me to meet his gaze.
"You will never have to see him again. Not once. Not ever. I will make sure of it."
I want to believe him. The wanting is a physical ache, pressing against my ribs like something trying to break free.
But Daniel's voice is louder. It always is.
"He will never let me go, Finn." My voice comes out hollow, scraped clean of hope. "You don't know him the way I do."
"He will once I am done with him." The words are quiet and certain and carry no heat at all, which makes them more terrifying than any threat delivered in anger. "Whatever hold he thinks he has over you, I can break it."
"And what happens after you break it?" My fingers tighten involuntarily around his wrists, and I can feel his pulse beating steady beneath my grip. "What happens when you realize you've signed up for a life that looks nothing like the one you were supposed to have?"
"Aubrey…"
"You're engaged, Finn." The words press into the charged air between us, thick enough to taste. My last escape from this fantasy. "I saw a ring on Gwen's finger."
His jaw tightens, but he doesn't look away.
"Gwen knows what our engagement is." His voice is flat, stripped of any pretense. "She gets access to Howell Capital's investment arm. I get access to Henderson Industries' European markets. Romance was never part of the equation."
The confession lands strangely, not quite the way I expected. "She agreed to marry a man who doesn't love her?"
"She agreed to marry a man who would never interfere with her life. And I agreed to marry a woman who would never expect more than I could give." His thumb stills against my cheekbone. "We had an understanding."
"And now?"
"Now none of it matters." Certainty settles into his features like a decision that has already been made. "None of it has ever mattered the way you matter."
Our faces are so close now that I can feel the shape of his words against my mouth. If I say anything else, our lips will brush. The realization sends a current through me that I cannot control.
Whatever he sees in my eyes gives him the courage to close the remaining distance.
The first kiss is barely a kiss at all. Just his lips pressing softly against mine, gentle and questioning, a single point of contact that lasts exactly long enough for me to understand what's happening.
Then he withdraws, pulling back just far enough to look at me, and the question in his gaze is unmistakable.
Is this okay? Do you want me to stop?
I don't answer with words.
My fingers release his wrists and slide up his forearms, over his shoulders, into his soft dark brown hair at the nape of his neck. I pull him toward me, and this time when our mouths meet there is nothing gentle about it.
He kisses me like he's been holding his breath for years and I'm the first lungful of air. His hand slides from my cheek to the back of my neck, tilting my head to deepen the angle, and I let him because I have no defenses left.
His other arm wraps around my waist, pulling me closer until there is no space between us at all.
My back is still pressed against the door, and the solid surface of it is the only thing keeping me upright as his mouth moves against mine with desperation. I taste coffee and want and the specific ache of something finally, finally allowed.
We drift without separating, his hands guiding me across the room until my lower back meets the edge of his desk. Papers scatter. A pen clatters to the floor. Neither of us cares.
His hands frame my face as I grip the lapels of his shirt, and the kiss breaks only long enough for us to breathe before it begins again.
Then a knock shatters everything.
Four sharp raps against the office door, followed by a voice I don't recognize. "Mr. Howell? I have those contracts that need your signature before the morning."
Finn's forehead drops to mine, his breath coming hard and fast, his eyes closed.
"Leave them with Tim," he says, and his voice sounds wrecked in a way that sends heat flooding through me. "I'll sign them in the morning."
"Yes, sir."
Footsteps retreat down the corridor, and the silence that follows is deafening.
I slip sideways, out of his arms, my hand rising to cover my mouth as if I can hide the evidence of what just happened. My cheeks are burning, my lips are swollen, and I cannot meet his eyes.
"I have to... I need to..." The words are muffled against my palm, and I'm already moving toward the door. "I have to go."
"Aubrey."
I don't stop, I cannot. If I stop, I will turn around, and if I turn around, I will stay, and if I stay… I am done.
I yank open the door and flee into the corridor, one hand still pressed to my face, hiding from anyone who might see what's written there.
What the hell have I done?