Chapter 137 Do you want to...kiss me?
June
The hallway is silent, and only the faint hum of the air conditioner fills the space as I walk, the smell of sour milkshake clinging to my dress. I keep my eyes down, moving fast, praying no one sees me like this.
My thoughts are louder than my footsteps.
What just happened? Was it really an accident?
The look in Natalya’s eyes—it was unreasonable.
I press my lips together, swallowing the lump forming in my throat. I just need to find a restroom, clean up, and hide until the meeting ends. That’s all I can do.
Just I hear footsteps. Slow, steady, and coming closer.
I stop, my breath catching.
Before I can turn, a deep, husky voice calls softly behind me,
"Are you okay, June?"
I freeze. My heart lurches into my throat.
That voice.
I turn sharply, eyes wide. "Mr. Grande—w-what are you doing—"
But before I can finish, his hand wraps gently around my wrist, firm but careful. "Come with me," he murmurs.
"Hermes—wait, there’s a meeting—"
He doesn’t answer, instead he leads me down the hallway, turning sharply into the nearest restroom. The door shuts behind us with a soft click that echoes way too loudly in the quiet room.
"Hermes, are you insane?" I whisper, panic lacing my voice. "You just left an ongoing meeting! What will they think—what if someone saw you—"
He says nothing at first, just grabs a handful of paper towels from the dispenser and dampens them. The sight makes me freeze.
He’s actually… cleaning?
When he turns, his eyes meet mine—sad, tired, and soft in a way that breaks me a little.
He reaches toward the stain, but I step back quickly, clutching the tray to my chest. "Stop. You can’t. You can’t do this right now."
His jaw tightens, but he stays calm. "June—"
"No," I cut him off, my voice shaking. "You don’t get it. If anyone catches us here, I’m the one who gets fired. Not you. Not the CEO. Me."
He lowers the towel, staring at me in silence for a moment that feels heavier than the air between us. Then he exhales, quietly, almost to himself.
"I took a good excuse," he mutters. "Don’t worry. You’re not going to get in trouble."
I blink at him, stunned. "A good excuse? Hermes, you walked out of an important meeting to check on me. There’s no such thing as a good excuse for that."
His lips twitch into something that looks almost like a smile—pained, but real.
"It's not that important... Anyways I’ll take the fall if there is one," he says softly.
And I hate how much that makes my chest ache.
I drop my gaze, biting my lower lip hard enough to sting.
"You should go," I whisper, voice barely loud.
It’s the right thing to say—but my heart aches as I say it.
Because the truth? I don’t want him to go.
The hallway outside is empty. No one ever comes to this restroom anyway. The door is locked. The sign outside says Occupied.
It’s the safest wrong place we could be in.
I look up again, forcing the words out just to make him stay a little longer.
"So, is that why you said I should quit?"
He opens his mouth to answer, but I cut in quickly—because I’m not done, because something else is clawing at my chest.
"Wait, before you answer that—why didn’t you pick my calls last night?" My voice cracks. "Was your fiancée with you?"
Hermes shakes his head almost immediately, closing the gap between us in one slow step that makes my heart stumble.
"No," he murmurs, his hands finding my face. His palms are warm against my cheeks. "I’m sorry about that. I don’t know you called. My phone—" he shuts his eyes, breathing through his nose, "I can’t remember where I kept it."
I frown, searching his face. Hermes never forgets anything. Not files, or meetings, or even the tiniest details.
Was he lying to me?
But his voice sounds sincere—low, heavy, and tired.
Maybe he really did forget.
He drops his hands, his thumb brushing the corner of my mouth as he finally speaks again.
"About the reason I suggested you quit," he says softly, "it’s because of Natalya."
My heart stops.
Of course.
I swallow hard, eyes widening.
Natalya. That milkshake incident wasn’t random. She knows.
"Yes," Hermes continues, his tone dropping to a whisper as he rubs my chin gently, his thumb tracing along the edge. "She knows…"
I bite my lip again, the words coming out like a confession. "It’s my fault. I was so afraid when you were going unconscious at the cafeteria, I blurted your name."
Hermes instantly lifts my chin, his eyes locking on mine with such intensity it makes my breath hitch.
"No. No. No, baby," he says softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "You didn’t do anything wrong."
My eyes sting again.
"Then how did she get a hint?"
Hermes looks away—his expression tightens, guilt written all over it.
My voice comes out small, afraid. "Did you… tell her?"
He shakes his head slowly. "No. I—" He exhales, shoulders tense. "I mentioned your name in my sleep one time. She heard."
My stomach sinks. "Oh my God…"
I take a step back, panic rising. My mind spins—images of Natalya’s fake smile, her warm words, the way she looked at me earlier. I start pacing, unable to stop myself.
Hermes reaches for me, steadying me by the shoulders.
"Baby, hey," he murmurs, his voice low and grounding. "I’ll fix this. Don’t worry."
His hand slides up to my face, thumb brushing my lips. "And you don’t have to quit. I was stupid to tell you that. I’m sorry. I’ll fix this, okay? Trust me."
His voice—his eyes—they sound like a promise.
And even though fear still coils deep in my chest… I find myself nodding, slowly.
For a moment we just… stood there. Breathing.
Our eyes locks, neither of us daring to look away. The air is tight and thick with everything unspoken. I can hear the faint hum of the vent above us, the soft tick of the restroom clock, and the rhythm of his breath against mine.
My mind goes completely blank. All I can think about is the last time he touched me—the business trip in Greece. The heat of his hands, the rough whisper of his breath against my neck, the way his control had shattered just for me.
He hasn’t touched me since.
I swallow hard. This wasn’t the place or the time—but God, I wanted it to be.
And then, his voice—low, husky, and deep—cut through the silence.
"Ask me to kiss you."
My breath catches. His finger was still resting on my lips, his gaze flickering between my eyes and my mouth.
For a second, I thought I’d imagined it. But the darkness in his eyes tells me he means every word.
I blink, my pulse pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. "Y-you want me to—?"
He didn’t answer, just waited. Watching.
I bit down on my bottom lip, trying to steady the tremor in my voice. "Do you… want to kiss me?" My hand lifted on its own, finding the side of his face. His stubble grazed my fingertips, warm and real. "Because I want to."
Something flickered in his expression—restraint cracking into raw want.
"I want to also," he murmured.
His voice was gravel and silk all at once. His head tilted slightly, his eyes never leaving mine as he leaned in.
My lashes fluttered. I felt my breath hitch. And as the distance closed between us, I shut my eyes—parting my lips, waiting for him.