A long yoga session exhausts my energy. I'm ready to work, to stay 100 percent professional.

The second I see Nick standing behind his desk, his tie undone, his jacket tossed aside, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows—I melt.

Is he teasing me or getting comfortable? Hard to tell.

There's breakfast again. The same breakfast—bagels, coffee, half and half, brown sugar.

We spend the morning working and making small talk. We take turns adding comments about robots overthrowing the government to the code.

* * *

It's the same all week. He has breakfast. He stands so, so close to me. He flirts just enough to drive me crazy.

I spend another weekend trying to burn off energy. This time, I volunteer to follow Kat to every museum in the city. I fill every spare minute, but I still fall asleep thinking about Nick.

By week three, I can't take it anymore. I go out dancing with Sarah and get home too drunk to care about anything but making my point.

I text Nick's personal number.

Lizzy: I need some DVDs. Movies about artificial intelligence. To inspire me.

Nick: Like what?

Lizzy: The Matrix trilogy. Battlestar Galactica, the new one. Ex Machina. You'd like it. It's all about a robot who manipulates men using her sexuality.

Nick: Do robots have sexuality?

Lizzy: I should ask you. You're about as close to a robot as I've ever seen. Have you seen it?

Nick: No.

Lizzy: Really?

Nick: Really. Would you rather get a rise out of me or keep your job?

Lizzy: Permission to speak freely, sir.

Nick: Permission granted.

Lizzy: Right now, I'd rather get a rise out of you. I'm drunk and frustrated. Are you at the office?

Nick: Yes.

Lizzy: I can come over there. We can have this conversation in person.

Nick: That's unwise.

Lizzy: Why?

Nick: You know why.

My cheeks flush. It's practically a confession. For Nick, at least. He might as well say because I want to fuck you.

Lizzy: No, I don't.

Nick: Even if things were different, I don't fuck drunk women.

Lizzy: Why not?

Nick: It's my policy.

Lizzy: And if I was sober?

Nick: Don't play coy. I respect you too much to bullshit you. I hope you feel the same towards me.

Lizzy: I want to read the words.

Nick: Did you feel better knowing I think of you when I fuck myself?

Lizzy: No.

Nick: Knowing that I want you, that I think about ripping off your skirt and binding your wrists with my tie, will only make you want it more.

Lizzy: So? Sometimes it's good to want things. Reminds you that you're alive. Why can't I come back to the office? Why can't we have this conversation in person?

Nick: Because you want to fuck me.

Lizzy: And?

Nick: And I want to tie you to my bed, rip of your panties, and suck on your clit until you're screaming my name.

Fuck. Heat passes through me. I rub my eyes to make sure I'm not seeing things. I'm not.

Nick: Do you feel better?

Lizzy: No.

Nick: How do you feel?

Lizzy: Deprived. Was that to prove a point?

Nick: Yes, but it was true.

Lizzy: I'll come over right now. No one has to know. We can do whatever you want, as long as I get to be with you.

Nick: We can't.

Lizzy: Why? You want me. I want you. What's stopping you?

Nick: I told you, before. I stay in control of my life.

Lizzy: And sleeping with me means you'll lose control?

Nick: You want to work under me or you want to fuck me?

Lizzy: Both.

Nick: You only get one.

Lizzy: Fine. I'll be good. I'll come to the office and only talk about movies. Have you seen the first Terminator movie?

Nick: Never.

Lizzy: Battlestar Galactica?

Nick: I only watch police procedurals.

Lizzy: Why?

Nick: Because I like them.

Lizzy: Ooh, sassy today. I like it.

Nick: Drink some water before you go to bed.

Lizzy: You'll have to come over and watch with me.

Nick: I have to get back to work. I'll have your DVDs shipped to your apartment.

Lizzy: Will you watch one with me? If we do it at the office?

Nick: I'll consider it.

Lizzy: I'm sorry I said you're a robot. I don't really think that. I'm just frustrated.

Nick: I know. I'm frustrated too.

Lizzy: Really?

Nick: Yes. Go to bed. It's late.

Lizzy: I'm going to think of you.

Nick: I know.

* * *

Friday morning is awkward. I discuss nothing but the project.

At ten, I gather my things to go back to my desk. No more Nick for two whole days. It feels like a long time.

"I'll check your work early tonight," he says. "I have a meeting."

"A date?"

He stares at me like he's saying don't push it.

I don't.

"A meeting with a colleague. I need to leave by six if I want to arrive at the hotel on time."

"That doesn't sound like a very professional meeting. I didn't realize you were willing to get on your back for your company like that."

He raises a brow. "I know you like thinking of me naked, but you should know I'd never submit to someone else."

I hate to bite my lip. He's as good as flirting with me.

"Of course." I push it. "You're always in control. I... And you would never take advantage. You'd only consider something if the woman—"

"Lizzy, stop. You're already in over your head."

"I thought we went by last names."

"I'll check your work at five."

"Sure." I have to do this. "Let me look at one thing first."

He nods and steps aside.

I wait for him to turn away and check his calendar.

Meeting with Zachary, 6:30 PM.

There's an address. I commit it to memory and close the window.

"Would you like something?" He rifles through the fridge.

"No thank you. I'll see you later."

I lock myself in the bathroom and call Sarah. She doesn't pick up until the third time I call.

"I have to start opening the store in five minutes. Make it quick. I'm hungover," she says.

"I need your help tonight."

"With?"

"A guy."

"Text me a time and place and I'm there, sweet thang."

* * *

This isn't a cute coincidence.

This is crazy stalker shit.

I take a long sip of my rum and diet. I smooth my dress. I try to look as if I'm sitting here for any reason other than following Nick to his meeting.

Okay, technically, I didn't follow him.

He's not even here yet.

But still...

Sarah taps my toe with hers.

"This would go much easier if you just asked him to fuck you." She sips her cherry red fruit-flavored martini. "Less games."

"I did. He said no. He's all about keeping things professional." I polish off my rum and diet and signal the bartender for another. "He was so clear, Sarah. He told me that he'd fire me if I pushed this. What am I doing?"

"I saw the way he looked at you. You'll be fine."

"You don't know Nick. He's stern. He's obsessed with being in control."

"Sounds hot."

"It is. But..."

"He wants you. Trust me."

Maybe.

The cocktail waitress drops off our next round. I nod a thank you and get to work on polishing off this glass.

My hands are shaking. It's not like me. I only get nervous when I have to get in a car. Not about boys.

But Nick isn't a boy.

He's a man. One with enough power to destroy me.

"Slow down, honey. You want to be sexy, not sloppy." Sarah pulls my drink away. She adjusts my dress a smidge. Motions for me to take off my coat.

I do. I hang it off my chair. We're at a table that seats four. So we can invite Nick and his friend to join us. Since it's so funny that we accidentally ran into them.

No way this fools Nick.

Her gaze goes to the entrance doors. He's here. And he looks even sexier than usual with a five-o'clock shadow.

I stay put in my seat, so I can play this whole thing casual.

His footsteps move closer. Then he's five feet away, staring at me. For a moment, his gaze is curious. Then it's filled with understanding.

"Lizzy's boss, right?" Sarah stands and offers her hand. "I'm not sure if you recall—"

"Sarah. I'm Phoenix." He shakes her hand, his eyes on me. "What are you doing here?"

Sarah jumps in. "My friend Carly was supposed to get into New York today. She has a rich boyfriend." She lowers her voice. "But she's not here. Out fucking her millionaire somewhere else."

Where the hell does she come up with this shit?

Nick's eyes go to the elevators. "It was nice to see you again. Excuse me."

He looks at me for a split second, his expression stone. Then he moves away.

Well fuck.

"Don't worry. He'll be back." She switches to the seat next to mine. "He was staring at that zipper the way a dog stares at a ball."

"He looked pissed."

"Pissed he wants you so bad." She pulls my zipper down another half-inch. "Trust me."

I take a deep breath, trying out my most Phoenix Marlowe badass aloofness.

A few moments later, he's back. He has a friend in tow. A tall man in a grey suit with blue eyes and sandy brown hair. Sarah's type.

Sure enough, she's staring at him with lust in her eyes.

Nick makes eye contact. "Would you two like to join us for dinner?"

I'm too tongue-tied to speak. It's too easy. Something must be wrong.

Sarah jumps in. "We'd love to."

Nick nods. For a moment, his gaze goes to my cleavage. His pupils dilate. His lips part. Then he's turning to the door, once again a wall of stone.