But he's my boss. He's the CEO of a Fortune 500 company and one of the richest men in the country, and I'm just an assistant who can't even afford to travel. I may be always by his side but we're worlds apart. Then there are the rules, of course. As boss and employee, there's a line between us that absolutely cannot be crossed. There's no way we're ever going to have sex.

  I'll just have to settle for bringing him coffee, answering his calls and putting papers on his desk. And the chats that we sometimes have after work.

  I look forward to those, actually. They're my favorite part of the week, the reason why I usually stay in the office even after the others have gone home. The conversations never last for more than five minutes and we never talk about anything important, but in those five minutes, we seem like friends instead of boss and assistant.

  I know that's the most I can ever hope for, and lately I haven't even been getting that. Maybe that's why I started fantasizing about him. Maybe I just miss him. He's been so busy with the company's newest and biggest acquisition, some financial firm in Switzerland, that he's been attending more meetings and staying at the office later than ever. I think he sleeps there sometimes. He's even going to Switzerland soon to iron out some details.

  -

  A sudden realization stops my thoughts in their tracks. Speaking of Switzerland, wasn't I supposed to send the tailor additional funds to finish Ethan's suits?

  Shit. I've been trying to plan so many things for his trip that that important little detail slipped from my mind. But I'm going to fix that now.

  I wash up and get dressed as fast as I can, then gather the stuff on top of my bed and shove it inside my purse as I run out the door.

  Hopefully, I can fix this blunder before Ethan notices.

  ~

  "Thank goodness." I let out a sigh of relief after getting off the phone.

  I managed to get in touch with the tailor in Switzerland. Thank goodness he was already awake. I've just sent him payment from the digital wallet set up on my office computer and told him to deliver the suits to the hotel as soon as he's finished with them. In short, I've managed to prevent a disaster. Now, Ethan is all set for Switzerland.

  And I can go home.

  I glance at the door to his office as I gather my things. I can see the sliver of light beneath it so I know he's still inside. I should get home before he knows I'm here and -

  I gasp as I see the leather-bound journal inside my purse. What?

  I pick it up and flip through the pages just to make sure it is what I think it is. It's my journal, alright. I must have accidentally shoved it inside my purse along with my other things while I was panicking over my mistake.

  Oh, Stella, you can be so stupid sometimes.

  I'm about to put it back in my purse but the door to Ethan's office opens and I panic again. I stand up so abruptly that the purse on my lap falls off. Before I can pick it up, I realize I'm still holding my journal, which I definitely don't want Ethan to see, so I quickly hide it behind some sheets of paper on my desk.

  "Are you okay?" Ethan asks as he approaches.

  "Yes," I answer as I pick up my purse and its spilled contents. Then I stand up and face him with a smile. "Everything's fine."

  Ethan doesn't look convinced. He stares at me with a puzzled expression and I realize I must look like a mess. I didn't get to tie my hair before I left home and it's flowing past my shoulders with more than a few strands out of place. And what I'm wearing is a lot more casual than my usual office outfits - khaki slacks and a plain white blouse. Shit. Why did he have to see me like this? I've just ruined the image of the woman who's efficient, cool, calm and completely in control that I've tried so hard to create.

  "Weren't you wearing something else earlier?" Ethan asks.

  Yup. Something nicer.

  "I was," I admit as I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "I already went home, changed, and was all set to enjoy my weekend, but I suddenly remembered something I had to do."

  "It couldn't wait until Monday?"

  "Not really. And I didn't want to worry about it over the weekend so..." I draw a breath. "Anyway, it's done now. Nothing to worry about. I can go and enjoy the weekend."

  Ethan nods. "You do that."

  "How about you?" I ask him.

  I know he just gave me my cue to leave, but a part of me can't help but want to extend this conversation even just a little longer, especially considering this is the first time he's talked to me in days.

  "Are you sleeping in your office again?"

  "No. I don't think I will." He touches his neck. "I miss my bed."

  I suddenly have an image of him between black sheets, completely naked and with a massive bulge poking the silk. I shake it off. It's one thing to imagine him while I'm in my apartment. It's another to do it when he's standing right in front of me.

  "Well, you need to rest, too," I tell him. "I know you're stressed about this Swiss acquisition, but you need to be in perfect health so you can stay at the helm."

  "I know. Thanks."

  He smiles and my knees go weak. Why does he seem to have a stronger effect on me than usual? Is it because of what I'm wearing? Because of what I was doing earlier?

  I swallow. "You're welcome. And I should go."

  Before I completely lose control and make another stupid mistake.

  "Good night."

  "Good night," Ethan says. "And take care."

  I nod and walk away. Somehow, it's more difficult than usual, especially since I can feel him watching me. I can feel his magnetic force and I almost want to just succumb to it, to turn around and throw myself at him and make my fantasy come true instead of going back to my empty, lonely apartment. Besides, I can tell he needs a break, and there's no one here right now, so we could do whatever we want and no one would know. It would just be our own dirty little secret.

  The thought is enough to make my cheeks hot, and I'm glad Ethan can't see my face. I keep walking, reminding myself with every step I take that Ethan is my boss.

  No more mistakes today, Stella.

  Chapter Two

  Ethan

  Strange, I think as I watch Stella disappear behind the elevator doors. I feel like the woman I've just spoken to is completely different from the one I've been working closely with for the past two years.

  It's not just because Stella looked different. I've only ever seen her in stiff dresses or colored silk blouses and tight-fitting skirts, but tonight she was wearing pants and a white top that seemed to hang from her shoulders. The topmost button was left undone, too, and though her cleavage remained concealed, I could see her black bra through the thin fabric. I had to keep myself from staring at it, in fact. Then there's her hair. Apart from that first time I met her, I've always seen her with her cappuccino mane all combed back and tied up, which is attractive enough, but nothing compared to when she has her hair down. There's just something sensual about a woman whose shiny locks are flowing freely past her shoulders, like they're inviting me to run my fingers through them. I nearly did. I wanted to make even more of a mess of them.

  That's the thing. Tonight, Stella was a mess. Well, not really a mess, but she didn't look as organized or composed as she usually is. It made me realize how hard she's been working. I know she works hard, but to go through the trouble of making it look easy? I don't give her enough credit.

  I admire her even more now, but at the same time, I want to see more of this side of her. This unguarded, innocent, disoriented Stella. I want to mess her up even more and then hold her and tell her everything will be alright. I want to be the one to pick up her scattered pieces and put them all back in place. I want to pamper her and protect her.

  I want her. I always have, but this is different. I want her so badly my chest feels like a ton of steel.

  But nothing has changed. Stella is still my assistant and I'm still her boss. The line between us may have been blurred earlier, but it's there and I still can't cross it, though God knows I just had to summon every ounce of self-control I had in me not to.

  Fuck.

  I slam my palms on top of her desk in frustration. The pen holder and the pad of sticky notes bounce. The pile of papers fans out.

  As I fix it, I notice the leather-bound notebook hidden beneath and my curiosity gets piqued. What's this? Her own planner? A phone book? Or maybe it's her personal collection of affirmations and inspirational quotes that help her get through each day. My grandmother used to have one. Whatever it is, it can't be that private if Stella left it on her desk. I'm just going to take a peek.

  I open the book to a random page and find it filled with handwritten lines. I read.

  I can't go to sleep. I'm grateful that I'm alive, that I have a job and a roof over my head, but I can't help but feel it's not enough. I feel so alone.

  I stop. Whoa. That's private.

  I close the notebook and scrutinize the cover. Is this Stella's diary?

  I know it is. I know those lines were in her handwriting. I also know it's not right to read someone else's diary. I should just put this down without reading another line. I should put it back where I found it. But I don't. I can't.

  Those words I just read were like a doorway to a whole new world - the world of Stella's thoughts. If tonight I saw Stella out of her usual element, without all her walls up, this diary is Stella laid bare. The real Stella. Just from those few lines, I caught a glimpse of her.

  I never knew she felt lonely. I know she didn't have any friends when she first started her job because she had just moved in from Seattle, but it's been two years. I imagined her having fun with friends on weekends, catching a late night movie, going to a 24-hour spa or a bar. I didn't think she was spending her weekends alone or that she felt so alone that she had trouble sleeping.

  I want to know more.

  I sit in her chair and read the journal starting with the first entry.

  Today was my first day at work. The job is as tough as I thought it would be, but I'm not going to crack. I'm going to do my best. My hot boss is counting on me, after all. He has these intense black eyes and this perfect dark brown hair, like really dark. And don't get me started about how his body looks, especially in a suit. You know I have a thing for men in suits, but I swear none of them can rock a suit like Ethan Hawthorne can.

  I grin. So she thinks I'm hot, does she? I have caught her staring at me on a few occasions. Now, I know why.

  I keep reading. Some of the entries are just ramblings. Some are just a line long, like how she's tired from work or she's craving for ice cream. And surprisingly, some are about me.

  I don't think Ethan knows it, but he's nailing his new job. He works harder than anyone in this building. And his head is full of brilliant ideas. He knows what he wants and he makes it happen. I'm proud to call him my boss.

  Ethan is so serious. I wish he would smile more. Then again, I also like his serious expression. I think he looks hotter when he's frowning or when he's deep in thought.

  Ethan and I have started this habit of chitchatting for a few minutes after work. I look forward to it, but I wish we could have real conversations. I wish he'd open up to me more.

  Funny. I've been feeling the same way.

  Ethan is away on a business trip. He's in Berlin. I wish he'd taken me with him.

  My eyebrows arch. Stella wanted to come? I never knew. I always figured that when I'm away on a business trip, Stella has less work so she can relax and go home early. I thought that by leaving her behind, I was letting her take a break. It never occurred to me that she'd be happier coming along. She definitely never mentioned it.

  There are other things she's never mentioned.

  I miss Mom and Dad. I wouldn't mind going back to being a child again if it meant I could have them back.

  I hate tacos. They're impossible to eat.

  I wish I had more money in my bank account so I could start planning for that trip across Europe. I wonder if it's too soon to ask for a raise.

  Today, I realized what I want to be more than anything - a mother.

  That last one takes me by surprise even more than the rest. I had pegged her as a career woman, someone who would eventually go for another position in the corporate world and climb the ladder, maybe even become a top-ranking executive who would sit beside me at important meetings, not stand behind me taking notes. I can imagine her sitting behind a desk, being the one giving orders. I can't imagine her pushing a baby stroller through the park.

  But I don't have anything against the idea of her being a mother. If anything, what I'm struggling to accept is the fact that someday, she might get married, get pregnant and leave. I guess I was hoping she'd stay single and stay by my side like Roseanne did for my father.

  I keep reading, wondering what other secrets Stella had buried between the pages. I have a feeling there's more, but I never expected what I discover next.

  I want to have sex. I want to know what it feels like to have a man inside me.

  When I have sex, I want it to be a little rough. I want to experience it fully. I want to lose my mind.

  I wonder how it feels to have sex while blindfolded or in front of a mirror.

  A lump forms in my throat. For someone so shy, Stella sure has some wild sexual fantasies. It's turning me on.

  And there's more.

  He'll pin my hands above my head and demand my surrender with his mouth, claiming my lips and worshiping my breasts. With his fingers, he will make me melt, pressing the secret button that transforms my excitement into ecstasy.

  That's the last line of her most recent entry, which is a good thing because I don't think I could read any more. In spite of the air conditioning in the room, I'm sweating. And I'm hard.

  If I hadn't wanted Stella so badly already, I would now. I have an urge to go to her apartment and teach her what sex is all about. All weekend.

  But my conscience won't shut up. It's like an alarm blaring through my head, telling me over and over that I'm Stella's boss and I should act like it, reminding me of all the things that could go wrong if I let my dick make my decisions for me.

  No. The answer is still no.

  I close the journal and put it back where I found it, hiding it well so no one else will. I almost wish I hadn't read it. I'd be in less pain now. Then again, if I hadn't read Stella's journal, I would still be clueless about her.

  I'm glad I know more about her now. I swear I'm going to treat her better.

  But first, I have to distract myself with work to make my "not so little problem" go away. Then I'm going to have those midnight drinks with my brothers and get drunk.

  ~

  "Another," I tell the bartender after setting down my empty glass of Scotch for the fourth time. He refills it from the bottle within seconds.

  "Same here," Ryker says, pointing to his empty glass of gin tonic.

  "Looks like the two of you are having it rough," Asher remarks as he takes a sip of his martini. "It's that Swiss acquisition, isn't it?"

  "The question is: Why don't you seem as anxious?" Ryker asks him. "Or have you forgotten that if this acquisition doesn't push through, it will be bad for the whole company?"

  "I know, but it will still be worse for the two of you," Asher says.

  Ryker frowns.

  "Maybe we should just leave him here when we go to Switzerland," I say. "What do you think, Ryker?"

  "Hey!" Asher complains. "No fair. I've already made plans for Switzerland."

  Ryker raises an eyebrow. "Plans?"

  "I've heard Swiss women are gorgeous."

  Ryker rolls his eyes. I know what he's thinking - that some things never change.

  "We are going to Switzerland for work, you know," I remind Asher. "Do I have to tell you that you have to be on your best behavior?"

  "Oh, I'm always on my best behavior around women," he answers.

  I give him a stern look. "Asher."

  "Oh, don't get your panties in a twist." He waves his hand. "I won't do anything that will tarnish our beloved company or mess with our business in Switzerland."

  I wish I could believe that, but it's hard to when he's already been embroiled in a scandal once before.

  Asher puts up his hand. "I promise."

  Well, he looks sincere enough.

  "I'll hold you to that promise," I tell him.

  He sighs. "You're such a party pooper, you know that? I know you're CEO and whatnot, but you don't have to be so serious all the time. You're rubbing off on Ryker. Or he's rubbing off on you, I can't figure out which."

  "Hey!" Ryker takes offense. "I know how to have fun."

  "And I don't?" I ask them both with a little more irritation than I intended.

  Ryker doesn't answer. Asher tries not to laugh but ends up doing it anyway.

  "I know how to have fun, too," I say defensively.

  "Tell me, then," Asher says. "What have you been doing on weekends?"

  "Drinking with you two," I answer. "By the way, it's your turn to pay for drinks tonight."

  "I'm already aware of that, and I've already anticipated that the two of you are going to drink more than usual as a result, and I've already calculated the cost."

  Of course he has.

  "Anyway, this routine doesn't count. What else do you do on weekends?"

  "Bike, hike or go surfing somewhere," Ryker answers, even though Asher wasn't asking him. I guess he wants to prove that he does know how to have fun.

  "Sleep," I give my answer. "But that doesn't mean I don't know how to have fun. I've just been busy."

  "Too busy to get laid?" Asher asks.

  I don't answer. Why does it always have to be about sex with him?

  He pats my shoulder. "You, my brother, need to get some. I know Dad is still on your case about settling down..."

  That's putting it mildly.

  "But just because you sleep with someone doesn't mean you have to marry her. And if you don't want her to get pregnant - though, frankly, I think Dad wouldn't mind, marriage or no - you just have to be careful. You know, wear a condom. I've got a few extra ones right now if you want some."