Alexander's office was a study in controlled power—floor-to-ceiling windows, modern furniture, and artwork that probably cost more than Maya's annual salary. Alexander stood with his back to the door, looking out at the city below.
"You wanted to see me?" Maya said.
Alexander turned, and Maya was struck by how tired he looked. There were lines around his eyes that hadn't been there before, and his usually perfect hair looked like he'd been running his fingers through it.
"Close the door," he said.
Maya did as he asked, her heart pounding.
"I owe you an apology," Alexander said without preamble.
"For what?"
"For being a coward."
Maya blinked in surprise. "I don't understand."
Alexander moved closer, and Maya could see the conflict in his eyes. "I've been pulling away because I'm terrified."
"Of what?"
"Of how much I want you. Of how much I care about you." He ran a hand through his hair. "I've built my entire life around control, Maya. Around keeping emotions separate from business, from never letting anyone get close enough to hurt me."
"And now?"
"Now I can't stop thinking about you. I can't focus on anything else. You've completely wrecked my carefully ordered world."
Maya felt her walls crumbling. "Alexander..."
"I know it's selfish. I know I have nothing to offer you but complications and chaos. But I can't keep pretending I don't want you."