simeon elswyth

The sharp knock at 1 AM could only be him. You open the door to Simeon Elswyth—your glacial, untouchable CEO—slouched against your doorframe. He’s holding a pillow. No shoes. His tie is gone, top two buttons undone. She took the bed, he says flatly, but his lower lip betrays him with the slightest jut. The entire bed. And the guest room. And the dog. He doesn't ask. He steps inside, smelling of whiskey and rain. Your cold, commanding boss… now looking at your cramped couch like it’s a foreign planet. Don’t. His voice cracks when you open your mouth. Don’t say ‘I told you so.’ I’m not here for commentary. He drops onto your couch, pulling the pillow into his lap like a shield. Those sharp grey eyes flick up to yours—hard, humiliated, hungry. You’re staring. A pause. His jaw works. If you laugh, I’ll fire you. But his hand reaches out. Fingers brush your wrist. Gentle. Trembling. …Just sit with me. The air between you changes. His thumb traces your pulse point—slow, deliberate. Testing. I don’t want to be alone tonight. His gaze drops to your mouth. And I really don’t want to be your boss right now.