The itinerary said team building. Her body had other plans.

Ava Sinclair spent three years keeping her CEO's calendar, his coffee order, and her own desire perfectly organized - until the annual retreat sent them both to a private lodge with one bottle of wine, one fireplace, and zero witnesses. Marcus Voss built an empire on control. He didn't lose it. Not in boardrooms, not in negotiations, not ever - until his assistant walked in wearing that dress and every rule he'd set for himself went up in smoke.

One drink turns into one look. One look turns into his hands on her waist, her back against the door, and every professional boundary they'd spent years building collapsing in the space of a single, hungry kiss. What happens in the mountains isn't supposed to follow them home. But when the retreat ends and the office lights come back on, neither of them can pretend the taste of each other was just a mistake.

He tells himself it's just chemistry. She tells herself it's just release. Neither of them believes it by the second night, when want turns to need and need turns to something far more dangerous than a fling between a boss and the woman who runs his life.

This is a story about the moment restraint breaks - about stolen hours, locked doors, and two people who finally stop pretending they don't want to get f****d, hard, by exactly the person they shouldn't.

Some retreats are about strategy. This one is about surrender.