Page 33 of The Boss (Straight Men #2)

I staggered into the corridor, the cool stone walls pressing in around me as I tried to steady my breathing. My hands shook as I fumbled to straighten my suit jacket, hoping it was long enough to cover the damage in my pants. When my fingers moved lower, the torn fabric was a sharp, undeniable proof of what had just happened. Of the way Zac had taken me, claimed me, whispered my name like a vow even as his mouth moved over my skin.

His load was still fresh inside me. The heat of him lingered, seared into my body like a brand.

I swiped a hand over my face, took a deep breath, and forced myself to gather some semblance of composure. But it was impossible. I felt wrecked, ruined, my heart hammering so hard I thought it might break through my ribs. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to collapse or run straight back into that room, grab Zac by the lapels, and demand to know what the hell came next.

The sound of voices up ahead snapped me back to reality. The others were waiting.

As I stepped into the main area of Grace Church, heads turned. There weren’t many, thank God—the bride’s parents, her maid of honor, the priest, and me. No bridal or groom party. The priest frowned, confusion etched into his features. Chantelle’s father checked his watch. The maid of honor raised an eyebrow.

“Where’s Isaac?” Chantelle’s mother asked.

“He’s… coming,” I mumbled, feeling my cheeks burn under their stares. I felt exposed, like my dirty secret was visible to all, like they could tell what Zac and I had just done behind that closed door.

Before anyone could question me further, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the church, and Zac strode into the cathedral, his bowtie loosened, his pants slightly mussed. His gaze skipped over me like I wasn’t even there. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, what he planned to do, but the air around him crackled with tension, still charged from the way he claimed me.

He walked past me, toward the altar, his posture sharp with purpose.

“We’re ready!” Chantelle’s father called.

And then, with a rustle of white silk and lace, she emerged from the entrance, radiant and smiling, a snow queen coming for her prize. The light caught the delicate sheen of her gown as she glided down the aisle, every step graceful and deliberate. She took her place across from Zac, effortlessly glamorous, impeccable. The sheer veil trailed behind her like a mist, and the bridal bouquet was cradled in her hands, white roses matching the softness of her dress. “You may begin now,” she said to the priest, her voice clear as a bell, ringing with authority and poise.

“All right,” the priest said. “Thanks for the permission.”

He started talking, but I barely heard a word of it. His voice seemed muffled, an indistinct murmur rising to the vaulted ceiling, drifting past me like the distant hum of a storm I couldn’t escape. I couldn’t focus on his words, couldn’t grasp their meaning. All I could do was stare at Zac, standing there so damn sure, his eyes locked on the woman in front of him. My stomach twisted, like it was being wound tighter with every passing second.

The rest of us stood beside the bride and groom in reverent silence, the air thick with the weight of unspoken vows. Candlelight flickered against stained glass, casting delicate shadows that seemed to dance in mocking synchrony with the ache gnawing at my chest. Everything felt surreal, dreamlike, as if I were drifting outside my own body, unable to feel anything but the crushing realization that the man I loved was slipping further away from me with every word the priest spoke.

It was happening. It was real. And I had to watch it unfold. My heart broke a little with each breath I took, and I was helpless to stop it.

And then—

“No.” Zac’s voice cut through the hush like a thunderclap. Every eye in the room snapped to him, but he didn’t flinch. His gaze was fixed, unwavering, as though the words had torn free from his chest against his will. For a moment, I thought I hadn’t heard him right—but then he spoke again. “I can’t marry you, Chantelle.”

Gasps echoed through the church. Zac’s words hung in the air, incense-thick with finality, as if time itself had stopped. The tension crackled like static, and for one frozen moment, everything—everyone—stood suspended in disbelief. Chantelle stiffened beside him, her veil trembling as she turned to stare at him, wide-eyed.

“What?” she breathed, her voice a tremulous whisper, as if the very idea of what he’d said hadn’t quite reached her brain.

“I can’t do this,” Zac said, loud and clear, his voice steady, resolute. “I won’t.”

“Oh my God!” Chantelle’s mother cried out, clutching her husband, and then silence fell. Stunned, weighted, suffocating.

Chantelle’s expression twisted, flickering from confusion to realization to fury in the span of a heartbeat. Then, suddenly, she smiled—a smile as beautiful as it was terrifying. “You are not doing this to me,” she said, her voice dangerously calm.

Zac inhaled, straightening. “I’m sorry, Chantelle. I do care about you. I always have. But I’m not in love with you. Hell, I don’t think I even knew what love was… until I found it where I least expected to.”

A murmur swept through the crowd. Chantelle’s father surged to his feet, his face darkening. “This is outrageous!”

“Think about what you’re doing, Isaac,” Chantelle spat. “Think carefully.”

But Zac shook his head. “Oh, I know what I’m doing,” he said. “I’ve never been so sure in my entire life. And I don’t mean to hurt you. But I won’t lie to you, either.” He exhaled, then turned to face the assembled party. “Because the truth is—I’m in love with someone else.”

The priest’s mouth fell open. Chantelle’s father paled. Someone let out a low, startled exhale.

I felt my entire body go still.

Zac’s eyes found mine, clinging like a lifeline. “I’m in love with him.”

For a moment, there was only silence—thick, stunned, absolute. And then, with a strangled noise, Chantelle’s mother wobbled in her seat and collapsed in a dead faint. The maid of honor gasped, clutching the back of a pew. A low hum of curses rippled through the church.

Chantelle’s face burned red with rage. She pivoted back toward Zac, her hand flying. The slap cracked across his cheek, loud in the cavernous space.

Zac stood silent, blinking. Then, with an almost rueful smile, he muttered, “Okay, I’ll accept that.”

She moved to slap him again, but Zac caught her wrist mid-air. Her chest heaved, her breath coming fast. For a moment, they simply stared at each other—something bitter, exhausted, and quietly resigned passing between them.

“You’re beautiful, Chantelle,” Zac said softly. “You’re successful. You’ll have no problem finding someone else. Maybe even someone with more money than me. I truly hope you’ll be happy.”

Her lip curled, but she yanked her arm free, her shoulders trembling with the effort to contain herself. Even at her weakest, her eyes remained dry, her pride unbroken. She drew in a sharp breath, steadied herself, then lifted her chin—regal, untouchable. And without another word, she turned on her heel and strode from the church, cold and dignified even in the face of defeat.

The maid of honor lingered for only a heartbeat before rushing after her. Meanwhile, Chantelle’s father was still fanning her mother, coaxing her back to consciousness. When she finally stirred, pale and unsteady, he helped her to her feet and they hurried out together, their hushed whispers and incredulous murmurs trailing behind them. And then, the grand cathedral was nearly empty—leaving only me, Zac, and the priest.

Zac stepped toward me, his gaze raw, unguarded. He took a deep breath, his hands trembling at his sides, his eyes burning into mine like he was afraid I might disappear if he so much as blinked.

“I know I hurt you,” he started, voice thick with emotion. “I pushed you away when I should have held you closer. I lied to myself when the truth was written all over my goddamn soul. But Chris…” He swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he fought for control. “I love you. And I don’t just mean I want you, or that I can’t stop thinking about you—though I do, constantly. I mean you are the air in my lungs, the blood in my veins. Without you, I don’t function. I don’t exist.”

I stood frozen, hardly breathing.

“I told myself this was just physical. A distraction. I tried to put you in a box that I could lock away, something I could walk away from when the time came. But I was a fucking idiot.” His voice cracked, but he pushed through, his entire body taut with desperation. “Because from the moment you walked into my life, you ruined me for anyone else.”

My chest ached, my vision blurred.

“You are my person, Chris. The one who sees me, the one who knows me. The only one who has ever made me feel like I could be more than what the world expects of me. You are my home, my heart, my everything. And if I have to spend the rest of my life proving that to you, then I will. I swear to God, I will.”

He took a step closer, eyes pleading.

“I can’t promise I won’t make mistakes. I can’t promise I’ll always get it right. But I can promise that I will never, never let you go again.” He exhaled shakily, his voice almost a whisper. “I will love you until my last breath, and if there’s anything after that, I will love you then too.”

A single tear slipped down my cheek.

Zac reached for me, hesitant, as if he didn’t have the right anymore. “I think I’ve loved you from the moment you walked into my office, even if I didn’t know it yet. I just—I was a fucking coward. I let fear get in the way, and I almost lost you because of it.” He swallowed, shaking his head. “But I don’t care anymore. I don’t care what anyone thinks. I don’t care what it may cost me. The only thing I care about is you. Just tell me you’ll take me, Chris,” he begged. “Tell me I haven’t lost you forever.”

I stared at him, my throat too tight for words. The sincerity in his voice shattered something in me. I shook my head, fighting the surge of emotion rising in my chest. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I said, laughing softly, my eyes misty. “You could never lose me, you absolute dolt. I love you. Always have. Always will.”

Then, without thinking, without hesitation, I surged forward and crashed into him, my lips claiming his like they belonged there—because they did.

Forever.

Zac’s arms came around me in an instant, pressing me against him. His mouth met mine in a kiss that was searing, desperate, pouring every ounce of feeling into that one hungry claim. His hands roamed over my body, fisting my shirt, yanking at my suit jacket, like he wanted to tear the clothes off me and take me right there on the altar. I pushed even tighter against him, my body molding around his as if trying to crawl under his skin and—

A discreet cough came from nearby, breaking us apart.

The priest arched a brow. “So,” he said mildly, a tinge of amusement coloring his voice, “should I still proceed with the ceremony…?”

Zac turned to me, mischief glimmering in his eyes.

I smirked, my heart pounding with a giddy certainty. “Maybe some other time,” I murmured.

But as I looked at him—at the love burning in his eyes, the promise there, steady and sure—I knew. One day, it would be us standing at the altar. And when that day came, there wouldn’t be a single doubt in either of our hearts.