When History Repeats Itself

Proximity

** Almara - Selita Ebanks**

It was only mid-morning.

How could so much go wrong between 8:00 a.m. and 11:00 a.m.?

And the match that lit the fire?

A last-minute model cancellation.

Cue the emergency meeting. The Creative Director wanted blood. Everyone's head on a spike.

The fashion industry in crisis mode is a terrifying place. Think World War III—just with better outfits.

Once world peace was restored, Paba and I returned to the C-Suite like soldiers after a long war—exhausted, rumpled, but victorious.

We had barely settled into our seats when Dom summoned us to the conference room.

We strutted in like the morning hadn't already tried to kill us.

"Good morning, ladies. Sorry to spring this on you but Kerry's with me today—" Dom leaned against the oval conference table, his back to the flickering projector screen.

"Why?" I blurted before I could stop myself.

He raised an eyebrow. "I was just getting to that part. My uncle's tied up with a family thing, and I'm needed across town for an informal client meeting. Paba, I'll need you here to hold down the fort."

Paba nodded, calm and composed. I, on the other hand, clutched the strap of my handbag—a.k.a. Sumaya's bag that I'd practically inherited after months of admiring it. I should have been thinking about work. Instead, I was thinking about Dom. And proximity. And how I would survive being alone with the one man I knew I shouldn't want, but did anyway.

I didn't notice they were leaving until Paba's voice yanked me back. "You coming?"

"Yes. Yes," I said, a little too eagerly, then caught Dom's smirk. It was teasing, knowing—as though he could hear my thoughts and was silently filing them under "Women Who Will Absolutely End Up on the Chase List."

I would not end up on that list. Not me.

Thirty minutes later, I was in the back of a company car, wedged against the door, trying to pretend Dom wasn't beside me.

I'd tried to claim the front seat but the driver—stoic as a funeral usher—had given a single shake of the head and pointed me toward the back like I was a child on punishment.

Dom was absorbed in something on his iPad, swiping and scrolling with the same intensity he used to make women forget their names. I risked a glance. Bad idea. He looked up right then, and our eyes met.

"Kerry, something on your mind?" His grin was too amused, too familiar.

"I just wanted some details," I said, feigning calm.

"Details of...?"

I took a breath. "Where we're going. Who we're meeting. How long we'll be there. Just... details."

He lifted the iPad again and gestured for me to move closer. "Come, I want to show you something."

I shifted, barely bridging the gap between us. A whole third person could still fit between our thighs. But Dom closed the space with a casualness that betrayed intent—his leg brushed mine, and that was all it took. A jolt, a sizzle.

His cologne hit me next. Spicy. Fresh. Illicit. My body betrayed me, sparking alive under his proximity. Every nerve ending stood at attention.

This man could ruin me without even trying. And still, part of me was grateful for the heat his thigh left behind.