HIS SECRET ADDICTION

Alex's Pov

"Tell me what you're thinking right now."

I stared at the message glowing on my phone screen, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. It was past midnight, and I should have been asleep, but these conversations had become my addiction. Three months of talking to someone who didn't know my last name, didn't know where I worked, didn't know anything except the parts of myself I chose to reveal.

"I'm thinking about how strange it is that you know me better than people I see every day," I typed back.

The response came quickly. "Maybe because I'm not looking at your surface. I'm listening to what's underneath."

I smiled in the darkness of my bedroom, feeling that familiar warmth spread through my chest. This stranger had become everything, my confidant, my escape, the person I thought about during boring meetings at Cross Industries.

Another message appeared. "What's stopping you from being yourself with the people around you?"

"Fear, I guess," I typed. "Fear of judgment. Fear of showing weakness. Fear of wanting things I'm not supposed to want."

"And what do you want?"

I hesitated, then decided honesty was why we were here. "Someone who sees me. Really sees me. Not the polished version I show the world."

"I see you, Alex."

My breath caught. "I want to meet you. I know we said we'd keep this anonymous, but I need to see you. I need to know if this feeling translates to real life."

Three dots appeared, disappeared, appeared again. My heart hammered against my ribs.

"Are you sure? Once we meet, we can't go back."

"I'm sure. I've been sure for weeks now."

"Tomorrow night. I'll send you an address. Come at eight."

"I'll be there."

"Don't be nervous. I already know the real you."

I barely slept. The next day at work dragged endlessly. I sat through the morning marketing meeting, nodding at appropriate intervals while my mind raced ahead to tonight. Damien Cross presided over the conference table like a king surveying his kingdom, cold, commanding, untouchable. He'd built Cross Industries from nothing, and now it dominated the tech industry. Everyone feared him. I respected him professionally, but personally? He was ice.

"Carter, are you listening?"

I jerked my attention back to find Damien's steel-gray eyes fixed on me. "Yes, sir. The Q4 campaign projections."

His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "I asked about the social media metrics."

Heat crept up my neck. "Engagement is up thirty-two percent since we implemented the new strategy."

"And the conversion rate?"

"Up eighteen percent," I added quickly.

"Demographics?"

I pulled up the data on my tablet. "Primary engagement from the twenty-five to forty age range, sixty percent male, forty percent female."

"Good." He held my gaze for a beat too long before moving on to grill someone else. "Richardson, what about the budget allocation?"

I'd worked at Cross Industries for two years and I still couldn't read him. The man was a locked vault.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. The address. My pulse quickened.

The hours crawled by. My colleague Jennifer stopped by my desk around four.

"You okay? You seem distracted today."

"Just tired," I lied. "Didn't sleep well."

"Tell me about it. This workload is killing me." She perched on the edge of my desk. "Hey, some of us are grabbing drinks after work. You coming?"

"Can't tonight. I have plans."

"Ooh, plans?" She grinned. "Is it a date?"

"Something like that."

"About time. You've been married to this job for too long."

If only she knew how complicated it actually was.

I left work at six, went home to shower and change three times before settling on dark jeans and a fitted black shirt. Casual but deliberate. I wanted to look good without seeming like I was trying too hard.

My phone buzzed. "Still coming?"

"Yes. Leaving now."

"I'm nervous."

That made me smile. "Me too."

"Good nervous or bad nervous?"

"Good. Definitely good."

The address led me to the Lexington Grand, one of the most exclusive hotels in the city. My stomach fluttered as I crossed the marble lobby toward the elevators. Penthouse suite. Of course.

I checked my reflection in the elevator's mirrored walls, running a hand through my dark hair. What if the chemistry wasn't there in person? What if I'd built this up too much in my head? What if...

The elevator chimed. Penthouse floor.

I stepped into a private hallway with only one door. My hand trembled slightly as I knocked.

Footsteps approached. The door swung open.

Time stopped.

Damien Cross stood in the doorway, his phone in his hand showing our chat history, his expression shifting from anticipation to shock to something I couldn't name. He was wearing dark slacks and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, more casual than I'd ever seen him, and devastatingly handsome in the warm light spilling from the suite behind him.

"Alex." My name came out rough, almost strangled.

My brain short-circuited. This couldn't be happening. This wasn't possible. The stranger I'd shared everything with, every fear, every desire, every vulnerable piece of myself, was my CEO. The man I saw every single day. The man whose approval I'd been chasing for two years.

"Mr. Cross." My voice sounded distant, foreign. "I don't... this can't..."

He stepped back, his composure cracking. "You're him. You're actually him."

"The messages," I managed. "All those conversations..."

"Were with me. Were with you." He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture I'd never seen him make at work. "Three months. I've been talking to you for three months."

"Every message," I whispered, horror and something else, something hot and dangerous, flooding through me. "Everything I told you..."

"Everything I told you." His eyes darkened, sweeping over me like he was seeing me for the first time. And he was, wasn't he? He'd never looked at me like this at work, never let his professional mask slip enough to show whatever I was seeing now in his face.

"The things I said about work. About my boss. About....." My face burned. "Oh god."

"You didn't say anything I didn't already suspect." A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "You think I don't notice the talented people on my team?"

"This is impossible."

"And yet here we are."

We stood frozen, the revelation hanging between us like a live wire.

"I should go." I took a step backward toward the elevator.

"Don't." The command in his voice stopped me cold. "Don't run, Alex. Not after three months. Not after everything we've shared."

"You're my boss. This is insane. This could destroy my career."

"Do you think I don't know that?" He moved closer, and I could smell his cologne, expensive and subtle. "Do you think I'm not calculating every risk right now? But I also know what we've built together. I know how I feel when I talk to you."

My heart was beating fast."How do you feel?"

"Like I can breathe for the first time in three years." His hand reached out, hovering near my face but not quite touching. "Tell me you feel it too. Tell me this isn't just in my head."

I looked up at him, my CEO, my stranger, this man who was somehow both, and made a choice that would change everything.

"I feel it," I breathed. "God help me, I feel it too."

His fingers finally made contact, cupping my jaw with unexpected gentleness. "Then come inside, Alex. We need to talk about what happens next."