If Cameron Holmes wasn’t so good at his job, I would’ve fired him months ago.

I still remember the day I interviewed him. Julia, the head of HR, had passed me his résumé before the interview and told me he was the most impressive candidate by far. She had already vetted several applications for the role of my executive assistant and had created a shortlist of the top five.

Cameron was number one on her list. He was also the only male.

I read through his résumé, which, as Julia said, was outstanding, with lots of internship experience, skills, and fantastic references. He’d earned a master’s in marketing from a prestigious university and had recently graduated, so I estimated he’d be about twenty-two or twenty-three. I imagined someone nerdy, scrawny, and shy.

The man who walked into the interview was none of those things. He walked in like he was the CEO, like he was the one interviewing me. He was tall—six foot three, I’d guess—with broad shoulders and dark blond hair. His light blue tie matched his eyes.

He was so unlike what I imagined that when he offered his hand for a handshake, I stared at it for a few seconds, my mind blank. After I quickly gathered myself and shook his hand, a jolt of electricity surged through me. I told myself this was a good thing. I didn’t want an assistant who was shy, scared of me, or got flustered easily. My assistant would represent me and Firth Marketing. I needed someone polite but assertive. Kind but strong.

The first thing I asked him was his age. He wasn’t twenty-two or twenty-three, but rather twenty-six, two years younger than me. There was a three-year gap between his undergrad and master’s, which he explained by saying he’d been overseas. When I asked what he’d been doing, he blinked once at me, calmly, and said he’d been looking after a relative.

It was a perfectly reasonable question for me to ask about the gap, but his answer, the way he answered it, made me feel like I’d stumbled. I felt unsteady for the rest of the interview. Maybe it was his eyes. Maybe it was the size of him.

After the interview finished, I fought the urge to write him off immediately. Sure, his résumé was impressive, andhe answered every question with ease, pitching a smile here and there that was effortlessly charming. But it was hard to breathe around him, and I knew it would be dangerous to work with someone who made me feel so… tense.

Unfortunately, no other candidate measured up to him, and so the answer was clear. He had to be my executive assistant. Julia offered him the job that week.

I wished I could say that things had changed now that two years had passed since the interview, but I was still too weak. Even now, the sight of him still made my stomach flip.

Today, Cameron was waiting for me outside of the bank building, leaning casually against the car. He was dressed, as always, in a simple navy blue suit, white shirt, and light blue tie. His hair was slightly windswept, but he still looked handsome. I let myself stare at him for a moment, then stepped through the revolving door. Gray clouds rolled overhead, and a wave of city noise washed over me. Car honks. People talking. My name being spoken.

“Alison,” he said, straightening up. “How was the meeting?”

“Fine,” I said, as he opened the car door for me. As I moved past him to get into the car, I could’ve sworn I felt a ghost of a touch on my back, but maybe that was just my imagination. I crawled inside and patted the chauffeur’s arm in greeting before taking a seat. “Back to the office,please, Mr. Anderson.”

“Yes, Ms. Firth,” he said, shooting me a smile in the rearview mirror. He looked like a kind grandfather, with deep smile lines and neatly combed white hair. He’d called me Ms. Firth since I first hired him, despite my protestations that it made me sound about a hundred years old, and calling me Alison was perfectly fine.

As the car zoomed off, Cameron fixed me with a look. “Now, how was the meeting? Don’t tell me it was just ‘fine.’”

A sly smile broke across my lips. “I might’ve convinced them to purchase our largest commercial package.”

Cameron grinned and nodded, not looking the least bit surprised. “If anyone is going to make bank commercials interesting, it’ll be you.”

Luckily, the commercials had to be more informative than fascinating, but I always gave every single project my own little flair.

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Even so, every time Cameron rearranged his legs, I became increasingly aware of the mass of him. I wished he was shorter. I wished he was smaller. I wished he had a different face and a different voice. I wished he had eyes that didn’t pierce so deeply.

“The Lloyds would like dinner with you,” Cameron finished. “Would tomorrow night suit?”

I blinked my thoughts away. “No, I can’t do tomorrow night.”

He frowned, glancing at his phone, and I knew he was checking my calendar.

“It’s not a work thing,” I explained. “I have a personal commitment.”

Cameron’s eyes met mine, blue and as clear as ice. I felt a chill and jerked my eyes away, already rearranging my face into something blank because I knew what he would say before he said it.

“Is it a date?” he asked.

“It’s none of your business,” I said. “As I mentioned, it’s a personal commitment.”

“Ah, yes.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “Well, good for you. It’s been a while since you had a personal commitment. I was starting to worry about you.”

“Cameron,” I said, shooting him a sharp look.

Most of my employees would have cowered at the sight—not that I glared at my workers that often. No, Cameron was the one who received the majority of my glares, and somehow he was never, ever affected by it.

Now, all he did was raise his hands in surrender, his lips twitching. “I only meant that I was worried for your work-life balance,” he said pleasantly. “This will be good for you. We can’t have a CEO who’s working all the time.That’s a fast track to burnout.”

“Very true, Ms. Firth,” Anderson said from the front. “Besides, it makes sense for a pretty young woman to start a family.”

“Anderson,” I said patiently. I couldn’t get mad at him. He was only saying it because he thought he was being kind, the way my parents thought they were being kind when they asked whether I’d ever get married.

Cameron got in before me. “I doubt Alison has time to deal with men, not when she’s so busy running a company.” He smiled at me. “I, for one, hope you remain single.”

My heart stopped.

“If you found a husband, I’d be out of a job,” he continued.

I took a second to compose myself. Of course, that’s what he meant. He wasn’t implying…

I pushed the thought away. “Why?” I asked him. “Because marrying someone would automatically mean I’d become a housewife?”

He blinked. “Right, of course not. I spoke without thinking.”

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“No, I’ll go,” Cameron said. He dashed out of the car without giving Anderson the opportunity to protest.

Through the window, I watched Cameron move through the shower, raindrops turning his shirt dark.

“He’s too kind, isn’t he?” Anderson said. “He must know that I have to keep healthy for my upcoming vacation.”

This was his last week at work before taking his annual leave. He was going to the beach with his grandchildren. I could tell he was excited because he told me about the holiday approximately twenty-seven times. Usually, it made me smile because it reminded me of my own great uncle, who, when I was a kid, would tell me about his childhood exploits over and over until I knew each story by heart. But today, as Anderson told me once again about his upcoming holiday, I let my mind wander as I stared through the car window. The rain was thicker now, crashing violently against the concrete pavement.

The worst thing about Cameron was that he was a genuinely good guy. He made nervous interns laugh, remembered the names of his coworkers’ children, andalways had a smile for everyone. At first, I wondered whether he was trying to charm everyone as part of some office politics tactic, but I soon realized he was thoughtful, even when no one was watching.

An imposing physique and a kind heart. That was another reason why I felt so guilty when I fantasized about firing him: because he didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve the way I resented him, just because of how he looked.

The automatic glass doors of the building slid open, and Cameron dashed through. He was already soaked from the rain, which had gotten worse since then. He spread out a black umbrella above him, clasping a second umbrella in his other hand. As he approached, I saw with stomach-twisting clarity that his light shirt had turned almost translucent and clung to the musculature of his body.

He opened the door and passed the unopened umbrella to Anderson, then extended his hand to me. I let him help me out of the car, completely shielded by the umbrella he held over us.

Gently, he led me to the office building. He was so close, but carefully made sure his damp clothes didn’t touch mine. My skin was humiliatingly hot. Why was I reacting this way? I didn’t even get this flustered for important meetings.

When we reached the building, Cameron let me go inside first. My heels clicked against the sleek tile flooring as I rushed inside, coldness settling on my skin from thechill of the rain outside. I turned just as Cameron stepped inside, closing the umbrella and giving his head a light shake to dry off his hair. My eyes darted right back down to his visible chest.

Was my heart really pounding over the sight of a sculpted torso? Had it really been that long?

When I lifted my eyes, I saw Cameron peering at me, almost looking curious. Or was it amusement?

I couldn’t read his expression, but guilt was heavy in my gut. I tore my eyes away from him and smoothed down my blouse and skirt, my face burning. While I couldn’t control my feelings, I could control my actions. I reminded myself that as much as I wanted him, I couldn’t have him. He was my employee, nothing more.

“Alison! Hello?”

I blinked. The sounds of glass clinking and people talking to each other flooded back to my ears as my eyes shifted around, taking in the golden hue of the upscale bar’s lights and dark wood accents. My best friends, Brooke Collins and Emilia Park, were staring at me.

“Sorry. I have work on my mind,” I said before taking a sip of my martini, reminding myself that I was here to relax, not overthink. This was the personal commitment I’d spoken about with Cameron. I hadn’t been lying — it wasn’t a date, just a catch-up with my two friends I hadn’t seen in a while because of our busy work schedules.

Emilia brushed the straight, black strands of her hair behind her shoulders, a sly smile crossing her dark red-tinted lips. “Work? Really?”

“What part of work? Your next project? Or your hotassistant?” Brooke asked, wiggling her eyebrows as Emilia laughed.

Brooke and Emilia had been my friends since college. We’d bonded quickly because we were all career-focused, and we’d achieved our goals. I had my firm, Brooke was a successful lawyer, and Emilia was a consultant at a huge finance company.

We knew each other’s secrets, so of course they knew how I felt about Cameron, and they teased me about my crush constantly.

“No,” I protested, but the lie sounded flimsy, even to me.

“Your expression was a dead giveaway,” Brooke said. “I’d describe it as a mix of annoyance and dreaminess.”

“With a generous sprinkle of carnal desire,” Emilia added.

Annoyance, dreaminess, and carnal desire. How would that even show on a face?

“But don’t worry,” Emilia said. “The perfect solution will present itself tomorrow night.”

“The perfect solution?” I echoed.

Emilia took a long sip of her cocktail, keeping me in suspense. “Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten about your date. You've already rescheduled once. Do it again, and the poor man will think you're not into him.”

It took me a second to understand, then I straightened up, incredulous. “What do you mean the solution to Cameron Holmes is Russell MacArthur?”

Several weeks ago, Emilia had set up a blind date with an investment banker who worked in the same office building as her. If it was up to me, I’d cancel the date altogether — I had no interest in spending time with a literal stranger — but I didn’t want to be ungrateful.