Mixing business with pleasure has never been my thing. And for all the right reasons, but there was something different in the air this year.

I was restless – and the air around me was always sizzling, especially when I was at work. Was it just the magic of December, or was this something else?

Well, it was Christmas – and I was ready to kiss a hottie under mistletoe. But love? Nah, not my cup of tea, or so I thought…

Chapter 1:

By the Friday before Christmas, Nexus Consulting felt hollowed out. Desks stood abandoned, mugs left half-full, the air buzzing faintly with anticipation instead of urgency.

Outside, snow softened the city into something gentler, quieter, as if the year itself were asking to be forgiven.

And I? Stayed back.

I stood in the glass-walled conference room, blazer folded neatly over a chair, watching white flakes drift past steel and concrete.

I knew my reflection was hovering faintly in the window, controlled, composed, immaculate.

The woman who never missed a deadline.

The woman who never let herself want the wrong thing.

“Didn’t expect company.”

The voice came from behind her, smooth and unhurried. Familiar enough to tighten her spine before she turned.

The one man I didn’t want to see – Ethan Cole – was leaning in the doorway, tie loosened, sleeves rolled just enough to suggest he’d stopped pretending the day mattered.

Head of Strategy. Her equal. Her rival. The one variable she had never successfully quantified.

“I like to finish what I start,” she said, closing her laptop.

His mouth curved. “So do I.”

Chapter 2:

The pause that followed felt weighted. Charged. It always did with him, meetings that ran too long, debates that veered into something personal, glances that lingered like unfinished sentences.

The retreat was supposed to be harmless.

Three days in Vermont, a luxury lodge wrapped in snow and corporate jargon. Strategy sessions by day, polite cocktails by night. I told myself it was just another obligation.

The first evening passed uneventfully. Wine, laughter, the performance of camaraderie. But on the second night, the lodge quieted early, corridors hushed beneath garlands and soft lighting.

And it was then that I stumbled upon the lounge by accident, or maybe instinct. Firelight flickered over leather chairs and polished wood. Without wasting time, I ordered bourbon, something warm and dangerous enough to feel like a choice.

Somehow, Ethan found me. He joined me minutes later.

What was he even doing here? I mean, how come he is always around? Ethan was certainly a handsome man. He was tall and handsome, in a very corporate kinda way.

And more than his physical appearance, it was how he spoke – I have always been charmed. But, naturally, as rivals, it wasn’t something I could admit openly.

Naturally, when she came and sat beside me, I was nervous. But I didn’t express the nervousness. Instead, I sipped on my bourbon, wondering if he could sense the electricity.

Chapter 3:

He sat down beside me. And ordered the same drink.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, I said, “How did you find the place?” He swiftly replied, “Instincts.” Once we started, there was no stopping.

After a long time, we talked. Not about KPIs or growth forecasts, but about childhood winters and missed flights home. His voice lowered when he spoke about loneliness, and mine? Softened when I admitted I had learned to substitute ambition for intimacy.

The snow thickened outside, pressing the world smaller.

Somewhere between laughter and silence, his knee brushed mine. The contact was light. Electric. Neither of us moved.

“Ava,” he said, my name slipping from his mouth like a confession.

And for the first time, I looked at him. I really looked at the way his eyes darkened when I held his gaze, at the restraint vibrating beneath his stillness.

“This is a mistake,” he murmured.

I smiled faintly. “Yes.”

The kiss was slow, deliberate, as though we were savoring the inevitability of it. His mouth was warm, coaxing rather than claiming, and my body responded before my mind could interfere. When I kissed him back, deeper, he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for years.

We separated only when footsteps echoed distantly.

“Come with me,” he said, barely audible.

Chapter 4:

The walk upstairs felt suspended in time. The door to his suite closed with a quiet finality, and the silence between them snapped.

This kiss was hunger. Built-up tension ignites all at once. His hands found my waist, firm, certain, pulling her flush against him. I felt his desire unmistakably, and the knowledge sent heat curling low in my belly.

Clothes came away unhurriedly, each layer revealing more than skin – accompanied by trust, want, and intention. His touch was reverent but unapologetic, mapping me like something precious he’d waited too long to claim. When his mouth traced my jaw and throat, I arched into him, breath catching.

“Say the word,” he said, voice rough now.

I threaded my fingers into his hair. “Don’t you dare stop.”

We moved together with instinctive ease, bodies aligning as though we’d rehearsed this in a hundred restrained glances.

The bed was cool beneath my back, the contrast sharp when he followed, kissing me slowly, thoroughly, until pleasure built into something dizzying and bright.

When he finally joined me, it felt inevitable – deep, consuming, and achingly right. I gasped his name, nails digging into his shoulders, and he answered with a sound that was half control, half surrender.

We found a rhythm that belonged only to us, unhurried and intense, until the world narrowed to heat, breath, and the exquisite release of finally letting go.

Later, we lay tangled together, skin warm, the fire casting golden shadows across the ceiling. Snow continued its quiet descent outside.

“This complicates everything,” I said softly.

He smiled, brushing his thumb along her arm. “Or simplifies it.”

Current Status:

Back in the city, work resumed its relentless pace, but something had shifted. We were careful, professional, but every glance promised more.

On the final workday before the holidays, Ethan appeared at my office door.

“Dinner,” he said. “No meetings. No strategy.”

I smiled, something warm blooming in her chest. “I’d like that.”

As the city lit itself in holiday gold, I realized love didn’t always arrive loudly. Sometimes it arrived patiently, waiting until you were brave enough to choose it.

And this time, I did.

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