With Vic so close and his breath against my ear, I take my best friends’ bad advice and whisper, “Mr. Grimes, I think we should fu—”

Our moment shatters with rapid knocks at the door. “Ms. Kind! We’re waiting for you! Are you alone? Who’re you talking to?” Syd’s voice slices through the tension, prompting us to abruptly jerk apart.

I quickly but calmly answer, “No one! I’ll be out soon, okay?”

“Shit! Shit, shit,” Vic suddenly begins to panic, then paces back and forth. “What the hell am I doing? What the hell was I thinking? This is exactly why I didn’t want to hire you!” He blurts out.

“We’re both adults who got carried away. It’s okay.” I try to calm him down, but my words seem to spark something darker.

He whirls around to face me, his expression hardening. “No, it’s not okay, Kerry! I’m your boss; you’re my employee! And that’s all we’ll ever be!” His shout echoes off the walls, sending a painful jolt of fear through me, reminiscent of darker times I dared never to return to. His words cut deep, and his tone is now icier than ever. “If we can’t respect boundaries, then this isn’t gonna work. Now, you need to unpack, focus, and do your damn job, which doesn’t include doing me.”

What the hell? His harshness makes my heart sink, but I hold back my tears and swallow the lump in my throat. He flirted with me first!

“Do I make myself clear?” His voice is sharp, laden with authority, demanding my obedience.

As I slowly nod, my disdain for a man I had once judged too quickly as good fills me. I glare, standing tall, wounded yet unyielding and resolute for him to understand that this will never be tolerated again.

In this moment, I hope he realizes the fear he unintentionally evoked and the hurt his words have certainly caused. Regret casts a shadow over his face as he steps forward with his hand reaching out in a tentative gesture of reconciliation. “Kerry, I’m—”

“Sorry?” My icy voice, though quiet, sharply cuts through our tension. “Indeed, you are, Mr. Grimes. And I’m sorry for ever thinking anything other than that.”

He swallows hard, then softens his voice, “I shouldn’t have yelled. Please, forgive me.”

I see contrition all over his face, prompting me to forgive him. “It’s fine, really.” My words spill out like I’m on autopilot, a reflex to smooth over the discomfort. But as I turn to pick up the dresses from the bed and place them back in the closet, a surge of self-awareness stops me.