The office is empty except for you - and him. Midnight. The city hums forty floors below. Your desk lamp is the only light left, and Adrian Reyes is leaning over it like he owns every inch of the space between you. He does own it. That's the problem. He loosens his tie, smirks, and says your name like it's something he earned. You replaced the woman he used to love. He swore this would never happen again. You swore the same thing. You're both still here at midnight. He calls you corazón and watches your jaw tighten. He likes that. He likes everything about you, and he's stopped pretending otherwise - which means the only one still pretending is you.