- Max -
The boardroom was her domain. Her battleground. The place where Max Sterling never faltered.
Until today.
She stood at the head of the glass table, laser pointer steady, numbers sleek and devastating.
Until she saw her.
Aurelia Kaiser.
Front row.
In a blood-red power suit that looked like it had been designed to incinerate restraint. Hair up in a sleek twist, lips painted in her signature red—the same shade Max had tasted in Geneva, had wiped off her own mouth while trying not to think about it.
The room was full. Executives. Shareholders. Press.
And Aurelia was smiling.
Max's first stumble came when she flicked to the fifth slide and completely blanked on the numbers.
She recovered quickly.
Almost.
Her second stumble came when Aurelia crossed her legs.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
The subtle shift of fabric, the recrossing at just the right moment to catch Max's eye mid-sentence. A movement so casual it could have been unconscious—except for the slight curve of Aurelia's mouth that told Max it was anything but.
Max forced herself back into rhythm. Her voice remained steady, her posture perfect, her expression neutral.
But inside?
Inside, she was unraveling.
Because Aurelia wasn't just sitting there—she was watching. With that same intensity she'd had in Geneva, in that suite where boundaries had dissolved. Her gaze was a physical thing, a reminder of everything Max had been trying to forget.
Everything she couldn't afford to want. Not with her father's ultimatum hanging over her head. Not with her position at stake.
Max finished her presentation with strained precision.
She didn't even wait for questions.
She walked straight to her office, closing the door behind her with a muted slam.
Her hands were finally shaking, adrenaline and frustration and want all tangled together. She ran a hand through her hair, loosening the perfect twist. Her reflection showed someone barely recognizable—composed on the surface, but with something wild in her eyes.
Something that had been there since Geneva. Since Aurelia.
Three minutes later, the door opened.
Aurelia didn't knock.
---
- Aurelia -
Maxine Sterling had kissed her like a secret and walked away like it meant nothing.
Aurelia hadn't slept well since Geneva. Not because of guilt. Because of restraint.
So today? She dressed like a dare.
Red suit. Lipstick sharpened like a blade. Front row seat with legs crossed like she owned the building.
And Max—her perfect, polished Max—had cracked.
She'd seen the meeting on Sterling Global's public calendar—a standard quarterly report, nothing she would normally attend.
But today wasn't normal. Today, her engagement was officially over. The press release had gone out at 9AM, and by 9:05, her phone had been flooded with messages from people pretending they weren't digging for gossip.
Aurelia had ignored them all.
Instead, she'd chosen her outfit with deliberate care—the red suit that made her feel armored and dangerous. She'd applied her lipstick with surgical precision and arrived at Sterling Tower exactly three minutes before Max was scheduled to begin.
That stumble—that momentary blank look, that flash of desire before the professional mask slammed back—had told Aurelia everything she needed to know.
Max was still fighting it. Still pretending that what had happened between them was forgettable.
And Aurelia was done pretending.
She followed Max into the office and shut the door behind them with a soft click.
Max turned. Cold. Furious. Beautiful.
"What game are you playing?"
Aurelia stepped forward, slow and deliberate. "The one you're too afraid to admit you want to play."
Max exhaled sharply. "This is a professional environment."
"Then you shouldn't have kissed me like that in Geneva," Aurelia said, voice low. "And you definitely shouldn't have stayed."
The words hung between them, charged with memory—of three nights in Suite 927, of whispered confessions and pleasure that had transcended the physical.
Max stepped closer. "You're trying to get a rise out of me."
"It's working."
There was a beat.
Then Max pushed her back—not violently, but firmly, pressed her against the desk like she'd been holding back since Geneva.
Her mouth crushed against Aurelia's, wiping that perfect lipstick in a single breathless second.
Aurelia gasped—caught off guard, thrilled—and pulled her closer, hands in Max's hair.
The kiss was hard. Messy. Deep.
Control surrendered.
Max broke away first, breathing hard, lipstick smeared across her mouth like a crime scene.
She stared at Aurelia. Horror. Hunger. Shame. Want.
"Get out," Max said.
Aurelia tilted her head. "Make me."
Max's eyes darkened.
Neither of them moved.
And they didn't leave for hours.
---
- Max -
She didn't mean to do it.
Not in the office. Not when her staff were still down the hall, not when there were probably ten unread emails blinking on her laptop.
But Aurelia had said make me.
And something inside Max had snapped.
She didn't even remember moving—only that she had Aurelia pinned between her body and the desk again, mouth back on hers, open, rough, wanting. The taste of lipstick. The scent of her perfume—jasmine and heat.
Aurelia's blazer hit the floor first.
Max's hand slid under her blouse, fingertips skating across skin too warm, too soft. She wanted to memorize it. To feel something before the rest of her shut down again.
Aurelia responded like fire to oxygen—hungry, immediate. Her fingers slipped under Max's blouse, palms on her waist, then lower, tugging her impossibly closer.
The desk trembled. A glass tipped, unnoticed.
Max pushed her onto the surface—Aurelia gasping against her mouth, hands fisting in her hair. Max bit her lip, dragged her teeth down her throat, kissed the pulse she found there.
"I hate you," Max whispered.
"Liar," Aurelia breathed, arching into her. "Do it again."
Max did.
They didn't fully undress—not this time. But skirts pushed up, shirts unbuttoned, silk slipping from shoulders. Hands under fabric. Mouths everywhere. Skin flushed and slick. Aurelia's thigh between Max's legs, Max's breath breaking in her ear, don't stop, don't stop.
It wasn't careful.
It wasn't silent.
It was real.
The outside world faded—no boardroom, no presentations, no father's ultimatum or corporate expectations. Just the two of them, stripped to raw need, unguarded and undeniable.
Max braced herself on the desk, one hand beside Aurelia's hip, the other buried in her hair. Aurelia's hands weren't gentle—they claimed, demanded, took what Max hadn't known she needed to give. Her teeth scraped Max's neck, her nails dug into Max's back, her body arched with impatient heat.
"God, I've missed this," Aurelia breathed against Max's ear. "Missed you."
The words sent a shudder through Max—not just physical response but emotional recognition. Because she'd missed this too. Had thought about Aurelia every night since Geneva, had dreamed of her touch, had woken wanting and frustrated.
When it was over, Max braced herself on shaking arms above Aurelia—hair wild, chest heaving, tie hanging crooked around her neck. Aurelia looked up at her, cheeks flushed, lips swollen, her lipstick entirely gone.
She looked destroyed. And victorious.
"Still just business?" Aurelia murmured, voice low and wrecked.
Max pulled away like she'd been burned.
"I told you to get out," she said again, quieter this time.
Aurelia sat up slowly, smoothing her blouse with one hand, watching Max like a riddle she almost understood.
"I will," she said, slipping back into her heels with unholy grace. "But you'll still be thinking about this long after I'm gone."
Max didn't answer.
Because it was already true.
Reality crashed back—the office, the building, the expectations waiting just beyond that door. Max turned away, straightening her clothing with trembling hands, trying to reconstruct the composed CEO who had stood at that boardroom podium just an hour ago.
"My father wants me to get married," she said suddenly, the words escaping before she could stop them.
Aurelia paused in retrieving her blazer. "What?"
"He gave me an ultimatum. Marry someone appropriate by the end of the year, or lose control of Sterling's future."
"That's why you've been pushing me away," Aurelia said slowly. "That's why you keep pretending Geneva didn't matter."
"It can't matter," Max replied, voice tight. "I have responsibilities. Legacy. A future that's been mapped out since birth."
"And I don't fit that future," Aurelia finished.
Max finally turned, meeting Aurelia's gaze. "You know you don't."
"I never asked to fit your mold, Max," she said quietly. "But I'm not going to pretend I don't want you, just because it's inconvenient for your family's expectations."
She slipped her blazer back on, somehow managing to look elegant despite the dishevelment.
"And I'm not going to apologize for showing up today, for reminding you that what happened in Geneva wasn't just a momentary lapse. It was real. This—" she gestured between them, "—is real."
Max looked away. "I can't—"
"Can't what? Feel something? Want something your father didn't pre-approve? Live your own life instead of the one planned for you?" Aurelia stepped closer, not touching but present. "You're the most powerful woman I know, Max. Except when it comes to your own happiness."
The words landed like precision strikes, each finding a vulnerability Max had spent years pretending didn't exist.
Aurelia moved toward the door, composed once more despite the lingering evidence of what had just happened. "I'll be at Eleven Madison tonight. 8PM. If you want to continue discussing this... situation."
She paused, hand on the doorknob. "Or you can keep hiding. Keep pretending. Keep living the life that's slowly suffocating you." A small, sad smile. "Your choice."
Then she was gone, leaving Max alone with the scent of her perfume, the echo of her words, and the impossible choice between duty and desire.