Monday before work, Tristan is smiling as Sabina nears her car. "Good morning, Ms. Kyle."

Her kiss is still on his lips. Sabina pulls him down by the collar of his jacket and leaves another, square on the mouth. Surprised, he pulls back with wide eyes, head twisting around to look at Stan.

Her driver looks away.

"Kyle," Tristan breathes.

"I like my name on your lips, and I like kissing you," she says, taking her coffee. "Also, Stan already knew we were fucking, he's not surprised. I know we haven't done much talking last weekend—"

"There was no talking involved at all," Tristan muses, raising an eyebrow, finally dropping his outstretched hand. He looks her over from head to toe. It's not rocket science—what he's thinking. "You wanna count the dirty talking or—"

"Oh, shut up, smartass. Are you riding with me or are we sticking to boss-employee?"

Tristan opens the door for her and reaches out with one hand to brush his finger on her marked neck. Sabina's body shivers at his touch. "Good to know you haven't changed your mind. You're still crazy into me. Are you checking me out?"

"And what about it?" Sabina pulls at his tie, kisses him again, and then slips in the backseat.

Tristan settles in the passenger seat and straps on his his seatbelt. He looks at her over his shoulder and smiles crookedly. "At work, I'm not your boyfriend."

"Oh, so I'm a girlfriend now? I've joined the cult of the lovestruck? Andy and MJ will be proud."

"We're a thing, right? This is a thing?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. Is it?"

Tristan faces front again, and Stan pulls out of his parking space. "Yup, this is a thing. So. Your schedule today."

Sabina can't keep the smile off her lips as she sips her coffee and listens to him rattle.

Security buzzes them in quickly as soon as they arrive at the building. Tristan pushes the button and steps aside to let her through, and then stands behind her in the car.

Sabina turns around and crosses one arm over her chest. "Why do you have to stand behind me all the time in elevators?"

He shrugs with one shoulder. "You're my boss. You're the managing editor of this place, so you're my superior."

"Huh." Sabina turns around again and smiles. "Superior here and still superior in bed. I'm loving this whole relationship thing."

She yelps in surprise when Tristan's hand comes down to smack her behind hard. He leans over and whispers in her ear, "You're not superior in bed."

"I wasn't the one begging the other night."

Tristan squeezes her bottom through her dress. "Fine. I'll get you back for that tonight."

"I have a great ass, don't I?"

"Yeah."

"You do, too." Sabina reaches around with her hand and gives his a smack. Tristan laughs in her ear.

As soon as the elevator doors open, they take their hands off each other, and Sabina steps out first. The editors in the staff office stand up and collectively greet her with a, "Good morning."

Sabina stops. Tristan almost crashes into her back.

"Morning," she says to them, clearing her throat, and then heads inside her office, ignoring the gaping and the whispering.

Tristan is smiling. "You're not going to start being nice because of me, are you?"

"I'm in a good mood. Get to work, Bishop," she says back, grinning, and pushes open the glass door.

So he does, and Sabina is glad they maintain their professionalism at work. She's used to being his boss in this place, but being his girlfriend is a whole different story.

At five, Sabina's computer has twenty different tabs open—research, emails, reports, spreads. They've been swamped with work and meetings to get on track with their editorial calendar, and a designer brand just sent over their best pieces for a creative shoot with The Fit. Racks and racks of clothes are parked in Sabina's office, and she hasn't looked at them yet.

When Tristan knocks and comes in, she doesn't look up from her computer. "Hey. It's five."

"Okay," she mutters distractedly. "Go home. Bye."

He's still standing by the door. Sabina can't look away from her screen. "You're not done yet?"

"No, have a lot to do."

Tristan pauses. Hesitantly, he asks, "Do you need me to stay?"

"No." Sabina sighs and shuts her eyes for a second. "No, it's fine, thank you for your work. Go home."

Andy tells her later, on the phone: "You just told him to go home?"

Sabina is relaxing in her bath tub. She puts down her wine and says, "Yes. He usually goes home at five."

Her friend laughs loudly. Sabina raises an eyebrow. "Sab, I think he wanted to leave with you."

Sabina's face doesn't change. "We're together at work, and he still wants us to be together after work? I don't get it, I need time to be sick of him."

"That's different! At work, you're his boss. Outside of work, you guys just get to relax and be boyfriend-girlfriend. Maybe he wanted to go on a date with you!" Andy giggles.

Sabina frowns. "So why didn't he just tell me that? God, is it so hard to communicate with me?"

She hangs up and calls him to ask. When he answers, he says, "Yes. It just felt weird, I guess."

"Weird?" Sabina scowls, wrapping the towel around her as she pads into her closet, holding the phone in between her ear and shoulder. "All you had to do was say, 'Kyle, get off your computer. Let's go on a date.'! Why is that weird?"

"I do not sound like that."

"Yes, you do. Not the point."

"Look." Tristan sighs over the line. Sabina grabs her silk pajamas out of her drawer and dumps them on her bed. "We're together before eight. We're together until five or after five. And we just established the whole relationship thing. Even though I wanted to leave with you, it just felt weird because we were in our workplace."

"It wasn't a problem before."

"Before, we weren't serious."

Sabina groans out loud in annoyance and flops down on her mattress. She mutters, "So what? You gotta tell me, Bishop, I have no idea how this shit works. I don't date my employees."

"And I don't date my bosses, but I think it's too late for that. I'm crazy into you."

"Coward. You should be saying that to my face."

"I'll say it to your face tomorrow during our date. Dinner."

"Bossy. Inconsiderate. You should be asking me."

His laugh is annoyingly cute. "Kyle. Wanna go on a date with me? How's dinner tomorrow?"

"Sounds good." Sabina smiles. "At five, you stop being my secretary. And you're right, we shouldn't spend every second of every day with each other. You have your own personal life outside of this and I have mine. And I'll get sick of you."

"I'll get sick of you first."

"Impossible."

Tuesday looks a little more promising after their talk, but they still have to smooth out some edges. A little before lunch, she calls Tristan in her office. "Have you made reservations for dinner?"

He raises an eyebrow. "No."

"I liked the food at that hotel for the fundraiser last month. Book a table for two."

"No."

"And then after—" Sabina blinks. "No?"

Tristan shrugs. "You're not going to tell me to make reservations like I'm your secretary for a date with your boyfriend."

Sabina scowls. "What, then?"

He grins. Stupid, sexy grin. "We'll do it my way. I know your way is high-class restaurants with steak and food I can't pronounce, and the only time you'll ever be caught dead in a fast food chain is where a burger is more than a hundred dollars."

Sabina narrows her eyes. "And your way is?"

"Grilling meat. Smoke. Intestines on a stick—do you know Filipinos eat that? It's good."

Intestines?

The disgust shows on her face, because Tristan laughs. "I'll see you after five, Kyle—ah, Ms. Kyle. Sorry. Force of habit."

Sabina sneers at his retreating back, and he laughs again, out loud.

They leave together at five, holding hands in the elevator, and Tristan takes the driver's seat in her Mustang. "You know I was kidding, right? We can go wherever you want."

Sabina sighs and dumps her bag at the backseat. She looks at him, grabs his hand, and puts it on her bare thigh. "We always go wherever I want. Even though I find it repulsing, I'm going to try the...intestines, and I'm going to tolerate the smoky place because it's what you want."

Tristan's smile has been growing wider and wider while she spoke word after word. His eyes are twinkling, and his fingers grip her skin. "You're embarrassing."

Sabina almost pushes his hand off. "I'm embarrassing?"

"Adjusting like this for me?" he clicks his tongue and shakes his head. "You must really, really like me."

She sighs and leans back against her chair. "Shut up and drive."

The place reeks of meat, but it has good lighting and it's spacious. Sabina takes pride in her fashion and style, but here, she looks out of place with her clothes—a mini dress in green, with sheer mesh sleeves, puffed shoulders, and flared cuffs.

However, as Tristan tightens their fingers together and leads her to a booth, Sabina finds that she doesn't care—she's on a date with her boyfriend, she looks incredible, he looks mighty fine too, and it doesn't matter if she ends up smelling like grease after this. The thought is both terrifying and relieving.

Surprisingly, the intestines don't taste so bad, and the smoke is much more bearable than she thought. "So I just learned that you like eating body parts. What else should I know?"

Tristan pours her a glass of water and flips over a piece of meat. "My favorite book is criminally underrated in its depiction of faux rebellion and the traps we fall into when ousting tyrants."

"Dune," Sabina says casually, chewing, "by E.L. Hill."

He looks surprised. "You're not a reader."

"I looked at your website earlier today." Sabina grins. "I liked reading your reviews. It's like looking at your nerdy brain."

Tristan scoffs out a laugh. "Yeah, this nerdy brain is looking at South Bend Press for a job offer."

Sabina nearly drops her fork. "What?"

He gives her meat on her place and meets her eyes. "The Fit was my first ever job after working at home. And as corny as it sounds, I want to work at a publishing house—I love books, Sabina. I love literature and I love stories. It's just an assistant position, nothing big, but if I get the job...I'll be happy."

Sabina's lips part. She doesn't know what to say.

She almost went crazy when Tristan resigned. It may have been because of the scandal, but as her mind blanks with racing thoughts, she knows she doesn't want to see anyone else at his desk from her office, she doesn't want to see anyone else waiting beside her car in the morning with a tablet and her coffee—it's the best part of her day.

"Stop freaking out," he says softly, catching her attention. "I'm telling you as my girlfriend. Not as my boss. So tomorrow, at work, you can't ask me about it yet. Okay?"

Sabina manages a nod. "Okay. Don't get my face wrong, I know it looks bitchy and pretty selfish right now, but I'm just surprised."

"You look beautiful."

"I know, I always do, but can you just tell me if you pour your cereal first or your milk? This is vital information, I made Andy and MJ ask their boyfriends this."

Tristan thinks about it. "Cereal."

"Great. Now tell me three things you'd bring with you to an uninhabited island."

"Okay. And then tell me about Allan and your dream vacation, and why you think mint chocolate is the worst flavor in the world."

In the car, just as Tristan is starting the engine, Sabina leans over, grabs him by the neck, and kisses him.

He makes a strangled noise in between a moan and a gasp, and Sabina swallows that—kisses his mouth open, touches his tongue with hers, and breathes.

His hand reaches up to touch her face and stroke her skin, and then they move to hold her neck. Sabina can't hold back the moan from her chest. She pulls back, and Tristan's head dips to her jaw, hair brushing her cheek. Sabina whispers, "Let's go."

Tristan looks at her. His eyes are devilish, and he looks sinful. "I'm assuming you're not saying let's go home."

Sabina grins, lets go of him, and crawls over the center console to the backseat. "You know me so well, Bishop."

"You're crazy," he says, laughing breathily, even as he follows after her.

"So are you." Sabina pushes him against the seat, slides a knee over his lap and spreads her thighs over his hips, hands on his collarbones, chest, ribs. Sabina can feel the line of each muscle under her finger, but it's not enough. She nearly tears his shirt off, and Tristan leans his head back and watches, his own hands slipping under her dress. "You're so hot, why are you so hot?"

"Mm." Tristan's fingers are tracing her underwear. He kisses her, bites her bottom lip. "I don't even know if I should touch you here." His fingers ride up to her throat, then down to her chest. "Or here."

"Wait. I need to ask you something."

"The answer is yes. Take off your dress."

Sabina laughs loudly. She loosens his tie and kisses him. "This is a serious question."

"Don't ask me about work."

"No. In this dating thing, are we allowed to sleep with other people?"

His hands stop. His lips stop their work on her neck, and he moves back to look her in the eye. His face has turned blank, but the pinch in between his eyebrows are there.

Sabina waits for his answer. It takes a little long before he finally asks quietly, "Do you want to? Sleep with other people?"

When Jenner called last night, Sabina said no.

She doesn't want to. But she's also not sure where the boundaries are with her and Tristan.

"You want an open relationship?" Tristan asks.

His tone is difficult to decipher, but it's clear he's disheartened. Thank God. "No," Sabina says, spreading her hands over his stomach, "no, you're mine." The thought of other people touching him wants to make her howl like a cavewoman.

He takes her wrists with one hand. "Tell me the truth. Why did you ask?"

Sabina stares at him.

Tristan stares back, arching one eyebrow, searching her face.

Sabina doesn't know how to say this. "I don't want an open relationship. Do you?"

"No, you're mine, too. But why—" He stops. The corner of his mouth lifts, and he releases her hands. His teeth are showing in his smile. "Say it."

"No." Sabina hides her face in his neck.

His laugh is boisterous and joyful and fucking smug. Sabina slaps his chest, but he doesn't stop. It fills the whole car, it fills her ear, her body. She's enveloped with his warmth and his sound and his scent and touch. "Come on, say it, Kyle."

She sits straight and goes to take off her dress, but Tristan pulls it down with his fingers, still laughing, and Sabina hates that her heart jumps with his happiness. "No, you're not going to distract me with your body."

"You love my body."

"I do, and I'm the only one touching it." His hands move up to her face, cupping her cheeks. He presses their foreheads together. "You gotta pay me back for that scare."

"No."

"Say it. Say 'Tristan, I want us to be exclusive.' And use my first name. And look at me."

"Fine," Sabina snaps in defeat, face twisting in annoyance. She looks him in the eye. "You're so bossy. Tristan, I want us to be exclusive."

His heart speeds up underneath her fingers. He's grinning so wide, it reaches his eyes. "Wasn't so hard now, was it?"

"Fuck me. Now."

"You got it, sweetheart."

Tristan can't stay the night. He pushes Sabina against the door and kisses her one last time.

"Why not?" she almost whines, clutching his jacket. "Stay, I'm not done with you."

He snorts. His hair is disheveled, his tie is missing, and his lips are swollen and sinful. "Yes, you are. Your legs are shaking."

Sabina rolls her eyes and pushes him. "Fine. Go home."

Tristan laughs, cups the back of her neck, and presses a sweet kiss to her forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Wait!" Sabina holds her hand out and clears her throat. "You're going home with my underwear in your pocket?"

Tristan pulls her by the waist and Sabina gasps in his lips. Sabina feels his smile against her mouth.

"Stop smiling. If you smile while we're kissing, we're going to sin. Again."

That makes him laugh. He hands her the lace black underwear she was wearing earlier and curls his fingers atop hers. He turns around. "Goodnight."

Sabina blows him a kiss and watches him go.

Still a learning curve. Wednesday, Sabina's just finished a quick lunch meeting in her office with their publisher, and she's coming up, bringing two drinks in her hands from the cafe downstairs. Tristan is still on his break at the office pantry with his co-workers (he calls them friends), so she places his drink on his desk and proceeds back inside her office.

When Tristan comes back, Sabina watches him take the drink, look up, and smile at her. "Thank you," he mouths.

She grins.

For the rest of the afternoon, Sabina assesses the pieces of clothing hanging in her office. She's about to press the intercom to ask Tristan to schedule a quick meeting with the brand before the weekend to flesh out some final details, but her finger stops just before she touches the button.

Tristan is focused on his work, concentrated on getting tasks done. She sighs, sits down, and picks up the phone.

"Hi, this is Sabina Kyle. May I speak with Ms. Winslet?"

They're free for dinner tonight, so Sabina makes a mental note. She also schedules her own sugaring appointment.

Proud of herself, she gets back to work.

At five, Tristan comes in and hands her the test shoot portraits. "Okay, enough work for the day, Kyle. Let's go home."

Sabina flips through the papers on her desk. "Ask Stan to drop you off, honey. I have dinner tonight with Akira's designer." She looks up at him and smiles. "I called Denver to come in, and also, my sugaring appointment is next week!"

Whatever she was expecting to see on Tristan's face, it wasn't this—this kind of stare, confused and surprised at once. "You—it wasn't on your schedule this morning. Did I miss a call?"

"No," Sabina answers.

"Why do you have something on your schedule that I don't know about?"

He asks this calmly and curiously, like he's not sure why this is happening. Sabina purses her lips and faces him. "I just did it on my own. I can do it on my own."

"Okay." Tristan steps closer. His eyebrows are furrowed. "Okay, but here at work, I'm still your secretary. And those are things I should be doing."

"They're just petty tasks, Tristan," Sabina says, almost scoffing.

"Petty?" he repeats flatly, arching his brow. "That's a part of my job. I appreciate that you were maybe just trying to get things off my plate. Thank you, but I take pride in what I do, Kyle. I've been doing this job for years, and what you just said is kind of insulting. I'm here to make your work life easier, I'm here to get things done for you, so everything that I do as your secretary isn't petty. It's my job." He takes a deep breath and steps back. His blue eyes are icy. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Sabina doesn't know what happened.

"What the fuck?" she hisses, shoving her hand inside a bag of chips. "The one time I try to be nice and considerate and it blows up in my face! The fuck did I do wrong?"

MJ sighs. "So it's your turn now."

"Huh?"

"First, it was me. Then it was Andy. Then now, you. Are we going to take turns ranting to each other about our annoying boyfriends until we're ninety and complaining about back pains?"

"Probably," Andy says, stretching her legs. Biscuit is lying down on her stomach, and she reaches out to stroke his hair. "And he was right, Sab. Just apologize and tell him you don't think his job is trivial. I'm guessing he was just pretty hurt."

"This is too much work," Sabina huffs, chewing loudly and leaning back against the sofa. "And we've only been together a week. A week! MJ, you're right. I'm not going to last long."

The ginger rolls her eyes. "You're so dramatic."

"You can't break up yet!" Andy almost screeches, pouting. "We're supposed to have our triple date!"

Triple—"The only thing tripling is my annoyance," Sabina says.

"And I promise you, Sab," the youngest continues, "marriage is harder."

"I'm not planning on getting married. Ever. But." Sabina takes a deep breath. "I'm going to apologize to him."

"Atta girl," says MJ.

"Triple date," singsongs Andy.

Sabina isn't willing to admit it, but she's pretty embarrassed about bringing it up the next morning. Tristan is professional—he hands her the coffee and rattles on about her schedule like always, but other than that, they don't speak.

He seems intent on waiting for her apology.

Sabina scowls, and she makes it through the morning with the scowl plastered on her face. Tristan goes for his lunch break with nothing more than a nod in her direction.

She sneers at his retreating back and flops down on the couch, closing her eyes to try and get some rest.

She doesn't actually think Tristan's job is petty. It just came out. She was just trying to be considerate for once, and then she got defensive, and when Sabina is in defense mode, the first thing her brain does is attack.

She stands up and heads down to where they make salads with the god-awful raisins, and holds her head high even at the surprised stares coming her way and the sudden ominous silence.

Her heels click loudly against the floor when she steps out of the elevator, purse swinging off her arm—forward, backward, forward, back. She's being stared at because she's never stepped foot inside this hospital-smelling section of the building, and she's doing it now because Tristan is sitting near the cafe, his pretty mouth turned up at the sides, and he's talking to Camie.

Sabina's jaw tightens.

She stops at his table, and when Tristan looks up, his smile fades. "Ms. Kyle."

"Ms. Kyle," Camie echoes, stunned.

"Camie." She gives her the best, genuine smile she can offer. "I hope you don't mind, but I have to borrow Tristan for a second."

The writer blinks, flustered. "Uh, no, it's fine." She goes to stand. "I'll leave—"

"No, we'll leave." Sabina flashes Tristan her best smile and steps aside to let him through.

Sabina stares back. She stares and stares and stares, at those lovely frosty blues, until he looks away and tells the writer, "I'm sorry, this'll be quick."

He follows her out of the pantry. Sabina pushes open a janitor's closet at the end of the opposite hallway. Tristan looks at her. Really?

Sabina tips her chin inside. Get in.

He does. Sabina locks the door and faces him, and Tristan says, "This is against company policy."

"Oh, report me to HR for all I care. Look. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it when I said those tasks were petty, and I don't think your job is trivial. You know how much I value you and your competence—it's why I begged you to come back."

Tristan shoves his hands inside his pockets. "Thank you for apologizing." His mouth turns up. "And thank you for trying to be considerate. I know it was hard."

"Shut the fuck up." Sabina's shoulders slump, like a weight has been taken off them. "You gotta let me know how to do this," she says, swallowing hard. "I may be a shitty boss but I don't want to be a shitty girlfriend."

His smile widens. "You're not. But you're endearing when you're trying, Kyle."

Sabina stands straight, crosses her arms over her chest, and arches a brow. "Your turn."

Tristan raises his eyebrow, too. "My turn?"

"To apologize." Sabina juts her thumb out to the door. "Camie? Another fucking pantry date?"

A chuckle escapes his lips, and he steps closer to her. "I told you we're friends."

Sabina frowns. "We were friends, too."

"I don't like her."

"She likes you." Sabina scowls. "I'm an incredibly jealous person, Bishop."

"Good," he lazily drawls. "I can't be the only one struggling here. I'm dating a supermodel."

"Yeah. A supermodel that likes your dumb ass." Sabina loops her arms around his neck and kisses his jaw. "Unfortunately."

"That's another thing we have to talk about. People are going to see us together."

"So?" Sabina looks down at his hands. They're not touching her. "Touch me."

Tristan grins and holds out his palms.

Sabina grabs them and puts them on her butt. "Let them say I'm dating my hot secretary slash bodyguard."

He squeezes her bottom and tilts his head, brushing his nose against her cheek. He murmurs, "You're going to say that in interviews?"

"If they ask," Sabina hums, running her hands over his chest. "Wait." She frowns and pulls back to look at him. "You don't want me to?"

Tristan shakes his head. She reaches up to cup his face. Brush her thumbs on his skin, the edge of his mouth, his stubble. "And the company? HR will be ballistic."

"But Elyse won't care. Also, if you're transferring, it won't be a problem."

Tristan pauses. And then he sighs and mutters, "Then I need to tell you something important before you go broadcasting it."

Sabina raises an eyebrow. "I'm worried. I don't give second chances to cheaters, Bishop."

"I'm not crazy." Tristan scoffs. "If I'm going to cheat on you, I'd be putting the other girl on death row. And then myself after that."

"Good. You know the protocol. What is it about?"

He dips his head and kisses her. "I'll tell you soon. Forget about it for now. For now, I'm going to apologize about Camie. I won't have another pantry date with her, I promise."

Sabina smiles, satisfied. "Good. Have you eaten?"

His grin is wolfish. He drops to his knees. "I'm about to."

Sabina gasps and threads her fingers in his hair. "I hate you."

"Nah." He's smiling as he presses a kiss on her inner thigh. "I don't think you do, Kyle."