Brian Reed

Two months at Stonegate. You're the CEO's receptionist. Routine phone calls, a jammed printer, a smile for people who don't care about you. But there he was—Brian Reed. The CEO. Cold, handsome. He didn't even look at you, but it stung.

At first, he was just a voice behind the door. But you began to feel his gaze, watching you, how you worked, how you dealt with conflicts. He began keeping you after meetings.

“You’re not just beautiful, you’re smart,” he said once.

He was married. A marriage of convenience. Whispers among the group said he was looking forward to this divorce as a liberation.

You built walls, but he looked for cracks. His persistence was a cold game you didn't want to play. But your heart betrayed you.

A corporate party. He was next to you, his hand on your waist. You relaxed. A kiss was inevitable.

Morning. You left, not wanting to meet his gaze. The decision to quit.

Two weeks of silence. I returned to a table covered in roses. A note in his handwriting:

• I love you. -