Can't get you out of my head.

Chapter 1

You weren't sure when it happened. One day you were Hannah Clark, the charismatic and quick-witted secertary, and he was Sir Keir Starmer. The powerful strong minded leader of the Labour party.

Then another day, you were still the charismatic and quick-witted secretary and he was still the brilliant and passionate, strong minded, Leader of the opposition, but somehow now she was also a...a man. A handsome, magnificent, smoldering flame of a man. You... well you were a moth, drawn to his light every time, secretly infatuated with every move he made and every word that came out of her mouth.

You couldn't figure out what it was about him, why no man had ever made your spine tingle quite like this one. Maybe it was the way you worked so well together, the way you would do anything to make him look good even if it made you look bad. You knew he had a goal. You knew he was driven by making this country a success. You wanted it too. Of course you did. It's why you took this job. But he wanted it more and that made you proud to be on his team.

You were attracted to the type of man who kept you on your toes, the kind of man who was a force to be reckoned with. But still, you'd probably never been attracted to a man in quite the same way that you were deeply, hopelessly attracted to this one.
Maybe it was the subtle scent of his aftershave that always lingered at your desk after he left, the flash of a smile when he said something clever - and, if you were lucky, maybe a little laugh to go along with it. Fuck that laugh... it made you tremble every godam time he did it. It certainly wasn't the only thing about him that made your heart skip. Nor, you imagined, was it the only thing sweet.

You were close, the two of you, in a way that he wasn't with other people on his team. Maybe that was it. You hadn't always been this close, but somehow, as months blended into years and working dinners of take-out blended into celebratory - or, sometimes, anti-celebratory - drinks after work, or even just because the fact that one of you needed to get drunk, you'd become friends.

It was a friendship born out of mutual respect, two people with similar values and work ethics. Work hard. Tough job. Doing what was necessary, by any means necessary. You made your input known and he respected it. You toiled together during early mornings and late nights. You even had similar personal lives - maybe a steady partner for a few months or a year, but ultimately, for the majority of your time knowing each other, single, more dedicated to the job than you'd ever been to anyone else.

Then it changed. He was still the passionate strong "workaholic" you knew but when his relationship status changed something changed with you. Sir Keir and Kate's relationship really annoyed you. For some odd reason, unknown to you, it annoyed you. Made you jealous, almost. Kate pushed you out and she spent more time with him than you... That hurt the most. You would see him at work and he would look sad and when he saw you he wasn't happy. He was... You didn't know. Who cheats on a man like Sir Keir?
You wouldn't. You knew that. What you also knew was that you would have gladly taught Kate a lesson. You didn't like her to begin with.

Anyway, you were close. He knew things about you, things about your childhood and your personal life that you would murmur softly to him - and to him only - toward the end of a night of drinks. You never dwelled, never elaborated too much, but Keir knew enough.

You knew things about him too. Things that you wouldn't expect.

You weren't sure when you developed feelings for him, weren't sure when he somehow became so radiant in your eyes, but as soon as you became consciously aware of your feelings, you were very, very careful to make sure that he never found out about them.

You weren't stupid. It was probably against some sort of rules and, while you were certain that any affair you could have with Keir Starmer would be very, very good, it would also be very, very bad. He was your boss. He was more than that though, he was the leader of the opposition. The second biggest name in UK politics at the moment, you had to remember that.

There was no good ending to a forbidden romance in real life. Only in fairy tales.

He didn't know. Or at least, you were pretty sure he didn't know. If he did know, it wasn't because of anything you'd done.

You were nothing if not smooth. It was one of your strengths. If he knew, it was because of some cosmic fate, some divine intervention, because you were so, so careful not to make it outwardly apparent that he was a flame igniting the center of your belly.

Sometimes, you could swear... he did know.  "Well when you talk to a girl like that how can i refuse?" You meant it, as a rhetorical question, of course. You didn't think he would like it but the little smirk and the slight laugh came before you walked with him back to his office. Maybe it was because he felt it too. In that moment, all you could think of was crossing lines as flashes of cozy dinners and late night kisses and her body curled up against yours. "How could I refuse?" Became a question you asked yourself more and more as those moments went on. You'd been perfect at masking your feelings for him. He knew, and it wasn't because of you.