I walked out of his office and headed into mine, moving Jonathan’s latest flower arrangements to one side of the room.

I’d given up on asking him to stop sending them. He sent at least two hundred blooms a day. He’d even hired a horticulture expert; she came in every day at noon to prune the old ones and water the new ones.

I took off my heels and changed into a pair of slippers, wishing that I could somehow fast forward to the end of the sTablet campaign. I was working double the hours, and while the new “necessary overtime for managers” policy had been quite beneficial for my savings account, it drained most of my body’s energy.

I put my head down on the desk and my phone rang. Ashley.

“Yes, Ashley?” I answered.

“Is it okay if me and Caroline spend the night at Jasmine’s house tonight? I know you wanted to watch a movie with us later, but it is a Friday. And I know you’re already going to say something about us driving late, so Jasmine’s mom said she could pick us up and drop us off tomorrow.”

“I thought you two had a junior pilot seminar tomorrow. Didn’t you beg me to pay the two hundred dollar registration fee?”

“It was pushed back because a few people failed the simulation test.”

I sighed. “Is this sleepover coed?”

“I didn’t say it was a sleepover, mom. It’s—”

“Ashley...”

“There might be a few guys there...”

Of course. “Have Jasmine’s mother call me. Then I’ll—”

“Hold on! She’s right here!”

I rolled my eyes and introduced myself to a soft-spoken Mrs. Hines. She was a few years younger than me, but from what I remembered about her at the mother-daughter cheerleading retreats, she seemed to have a good set of morals.

I made sure that no boys would be sleeping in the same room with the girls, and after she assured me that she and her husband would be taking turns to check on the party, I gave in and agreed to let them go.

“Hello, beautiful. What are you doing?” Jonathan texted me as soon as I hung up.

“About to head home and take a long shower...”

“You’re still at corporate?”

“Unfortunately. What are you doing?”

“Coming downstairs to see you.”

I shut down my computer and stood up. I stacked all the sTablet notes into a pile and crossed another date off my calendar.

My eyes veered towards the box that held the last Friday of the month, where the words “Jonathan’s birthday” were written in small print.

I had no idea what to get for him; he seemed to have everything already. As a matter of fact, anytime I asked him what he wanted for his birthday, he would simply change the subject.

“Hey.” He walked into my office. “Are you still too busy for me?”

“Actually, I was supposed to be watching a movie with my girls later, but they just ditched me for a coed sleepover. Can you believe that?”

“I can’t believe you’re surprised.” He laughed. “What movie were you going to watch?”

“Some teen movie about vampires, evil curses, and—I don’t know. They picked it out.”

“Hmmm. You should spend the night with me then. You haven’t seen my house yet.”

How many houses does he have?

“No thanks.” I shook my head.

“No thanks? Why?”

“Because I don’t feel like having sex with you.”

He rolled his eyes. “Even if that was true, we don’t always have to have sex, Claire. You know that.”

I did know that. And I was scared of that.

The days when we didn’t have sex were more intimate than the days when we did. Jonathan had the most thoughtful ways of showing his affection, and no matter what I did to try and resist, I only ended up giving in and falling further into him.

Like this past Monday, when I told him I skipped breakfast because I was running late and he had the chef team of True Blue Café deliver me a plate of gourmet crepes and fruit. Or Wednesday, when I wasted coffee on my favorite suit and he sent Greg out to buy me two new ones. Or maybe it was yesterday, when he noticed I’d been standing in heels all day and massaged my feet until I fell asleep.

“So, is that a yes to coming home with me?” He smiled.

“No, it’s still a no...I’m exhausted and I need to shower and—”

“Hush.” He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and walked me out of the room.

We took the elevator to the garage and he led me over to his newest car—a black Aston Martin.

He opened the passenger door and I hesitated.

I’d spent the night with him before, but that was in his corporate bedroom—on his sofa sleeper, not at his house where he would undoubtedly and successfully seduce me. That was before we officially began dating, before our unexplainable connection to each other was deepened with his thoughtfulness and late night phone conversations—before I had to admit to myself that my feelings for him were growing deeper and deeper every day.

“Is there a reason you’re not getting into the car? Is something wrong?” He raised his eyebrow.

“No...I was just thinking...”

“About?”

“About how... I need to catch up on some reading tonight.” I needed to figure out a way to get out of this. He was getting too close—way too close, and we still hadn’t discussed our thoughts on whatever this relationship was. “Maybe you and I can meet up for breakfast tomorrow and—”

He scooped me into his arms and placed me into the car, buckling my seatbelt like I was a toddler. He flicked the child safety lock on the door before shutting it, and walked over to his side.

“You are unbelievable. Do you know that?” He revved up the car and sped away. “Do you get a cheap thrill out of testing my nerves?”

“It’s more of an adrenaline rush. I wasn’t joking about the reading...I actually am a full day behind.”

“Would you like me to make Monday a company-wide off day so you can catch up?”

“What?”

“I didn’t stutter. If you need me to do that I will, because I can guarantee you won’t be getting any reading done tonight.”

My cheeks turned bright red. “Did you not hear me say that I don’t feel like having sex with you tonight? Did you catch that sentence at all?”

“I’m allergic to your lies, Claire.” He looked over at me and smiled. “Your poker face doesn’t work on me anymore.”

I sat back in the seat and looked out the window, laughing on the inside.

I watched as the bright skyline of downtown disappeared in my side mirror, as the street lights that hovered over the lanes became less frequent.

I could see that we were driving past property estates—mansion like houses with sprawling lawns and mile long gates, houses that were standing further and further apart.

Jonathan began to slow his car down, pulling up to a colossal black gate. He rolled his window down and punched in a code, causing the gate to slowly slide open.

He drove down a long gravel road that was lined with bright yellow gingko trees. There was a small courtyard in the distance and a gray stoned fountain stood stoic amidst a large bed of well-trimmed grass.

I kept my eyes forward, thinking that whatever his house looked like, it couldn’t be grander than any of the yachts he’d shown me. But once the house came into view, I had to hold back a gasp.

It was unbelievably beautiful. Stunning. An architect’s dream.

It was a colonial style mansion with white stones that gleamed against the sunset. It had to have been built in the 1930s—the marbled pillars that led into the entrance were reminiscent of the ones I’d seen in my history design books.

The arched windows—there were far too many to count, were at least eight feet tall and the glass within them was tinted black.

“Claire?” Jonathan was standing at my door with his arm outstretched. “Would you like to come inside?”