Friday, 7:43 p.m.

The evening fell over the city like dark silk over a naked body. I sat on my bed. Completely nude. My body was still vibrating slightly. What had happened at the office today... was more than just sex. It had been a power game. It was about domination. Lust. Control—and loss of control.

I grinned. I had shown him that I wasn't his toy. That I made my own rules. And that he either played by my rules – or not at all.

Ping.

My cell phone vibrated.

Alexander: If that's your way of wishing me a good day, I'm very impressed.

Him: Also a little confused.

Him: And slightly under pressure.

I laughed quietly. And typed back:

Me: I thought you liked pressure. Managers perform best when they're under pressure.

Him: Touché.

Him: And yes – normally I can handle it. But today –

Him: was different

Short pause.

He: I need clarity. And you might need a place where we can talk. In peace. Without a desk between us. Unobserved and without pressure.

Now I was confused. What did he mean?

He: I'm inviting you. Seaside hotel. Just you and me. Tomorrow.

I stared at the text. My heart skipped a beat.

Me: You mean a weekend in a romantic hotel to talk about personnel development?

Him: I mean a weekend with the woman who tore me to pieces today while I was just sitting there watching. With the only woman who has ever managed to completely knock me off my feet.

Him: To figure out what that was – and what it could become.

Him: I'll pick you up tomorrow at 3 p.m.

I put my phone down. I didn't know what to say.

It wasn't an order. A trick? No. He wasn't that kind of man.

He was a man who knew very well that I had provoked him – and who wanted to know if it was more than a whim, more than just a single moment of passion.

I didn't reply until five minutes later.

Me: Okay. Saturday at 3 p.m. This time I'll pack a change of clothes. And underwear.

Then I typed, “I'm looking forward to it.”

And deleted the sentence again.

Did I still have wine in the fridge?