Leo
1036 Words
I was drowning in paperwork, the kind that makes your hand cramp and your eyes blur, when the door to my office slammed open.
"Ever heard of knocking?" I snapped, my eyes narrowing into a glare as I looked up from the documents. My voice came out sharp, irritated.
Mr. Seran strolled in like he owned the damn place.
"What do you want?"
"I need to talk to you about Ravanilla," he said, dead serious. "We both know the guy’s a womanizer, right? Last week, my assistant—Aisha—stormed into my office crying, said he almost r***d her—"
"Stop right there." I cut him off, my jaw clenched. "Don’t twist the story. That wasn’t attempted r**e. They both knew what they were doing in that office, and don’t pretend otherwise."
My temper boiled. I grabbed the pen I was holding and hurled it across the room at him.
"I’m just saying..." he continued, voice low. "I don’t want Trinity ending up like Aisha. You know what I mean—just another one of Ravanilla’s girls."
Then, just like that, he walked out. Left me stewing in my own thoughts.
But what he said hit me like a sledgehammer. Trinity? No. That wasn’t going to happen. The idea of her ending up in Ravanilla’s hands felt like a gut-punch. I didn’t even think—I just bolted out of my office, hellbent on making sure she didn’t become one of his playthings.
I ran for the elevators. When I reached them, a woman inside called out, "Sir, it’s already overloaded!"
"s**t!" I barked, out of breath, pointing at every single one of them. "All of you... You're all fired!"
Before I could say another word, the doors slammed shut. I looked around—the other elevators were under maintenance. Of course they were.
Only option left: the stairs.
...
By the time I reached the 34th floor, I was gasping for air, sweat beading on my forehead. But adrenaline pushed me forward.
I barged into Ravanilla’s office without knocking.
And there he was—cornering her. Trinity. My assistant. Her cheeks were flushed, her breath caught in her throat. His hand was already creeping up her thigh, trying to hike up that tight little skirt she wore.
Blood boiled. My fists clenched.
“The f**k, dude?” I growled.
I stormed in, grabbed Trinity, and yanked her away from him like a goddamn storm. My voice thundered.
“Don’t you ever lay a goddamn finger on her again, you sick f**k. I swear to God, Khiro. f*****g hell, I’ll ruin you.”
...
We walked in silence after that. I kept glancing at her—she looked shaken, but safe.
“Thank you,” she whispered as we stepped out of that bastard’s office.
She told me everything. How Khiro made her uncomfortable, tried to touch her, lift her skirt, whisper filthy things into her ears.
“Did he touch you... aside from that?” I asked, still trying to keep my fury in check. My voice was rough, torn.
She just shrugged. That was enough for me.
“Good,” I muttered, squeezing her hand as I played with her fingers.
“You can take the rest of the day off,” I said, reluctantly letting go of her hand. “And I’m sorry—for what he did.”
***
The next day, she walked into my office with something in her hands.
A lunch box.
Packed lunch.
We ate it together, of course. She said it was her way of thanking me for yesterday.
I told her to leave the lunch box behind.
Now, I’m sitting here, twirling the edge of it between my fingers like some love-struck idiot. Laughing to myself.
Packed f*****g lunch.
She thought I saved her from Khiro. But the truth? I wasn’t saving her from him.
I was saving her for me.
She was blushing when she gave me that lunch—cheeks red, hands nervous. She looked like a teenage girl asking her crush to eat with her. And God, it made my chest tighten.
But then my mind slipped back to yesterday. To Khiro. To his hands on her thighs. Her creamy white thighs.
I growled, low and dangerous.
I wanted to be the one lifting that skirt. Pushing her panties aside and bending her over my desk. Listening to her moans like they were a symphony made just for me. Her body trembling under my hands, mine filling her completely until she couldn’t take anymore.
By the time I was done, her underwear would be scattered across the office, and she’d be lying on my lap, breathless, body spent.
I didn’t even realize I was crushing the pen in my hand until my knuckles turned white.
I wanted to stab Khiro with it. For touching her. For seeing what was mine.
I slapped my head. Get it together.
She’s been working for me for *two days* and she already has me wrapped around her finger like some kind of drug.
TWO WEEKS LATER
She said it was a “thank you” lunch.
But I told her—I’d pay her double if she kept bringing me food every day. The girl didn’t even hesitate.
And damn, it’s the best thing I’ve tasted. I even bragged to my chef about her cooking.
If I had my mother’s ring, I’d be down on one knee right now.
But it’s not just the food.
It’s her smile. Her black hair. Her brown eyes that seem to see right through me. Her soft laughter, the kind I want to hear turn into breathless moans. And those lips—those goddamn red lips that I want to kiss until the world fades away.
And now?
Now she’s late.
She hasn’t shown up with my daily lunch. My stomach’s growling—but it’s not just hunger.
It’s frustration. Need.
I called the front desk. “Calista, tell Trinity to come to my office.”
“Yes, sir.”
…
It’s been five minutes.
Still no sign of my Trinity.
My Tesorina.
And if she doesn’t show up soon... I might just go find her myself.
||R.A||
RAENAALMEDA
- Writer
