Chapter 4: After Hours
501 Words
The office was almost empty when I finally shut down my computer.
The lights above my desk flickered softly.
The city outside the windows had already changed pace.
I checked my phone.
6:47 p.m.
I exhaled, reaching for my bag.
“Leaving already?”
His voice came from behind me.
I turned.
He was standing near the printer, jacket in hand, tie loosened.
Less formal.
More dangerous.
“I finished my tasks,” I said.
“I noticed.”
He stepped closer, stopping at a respectful distance.
“You work better when it’s quiet,” he added.
“After hours.”
“I can manage during the day,” I replied.
“I’m sure you can.”
A pause.
“But tonight, I need you.”
The words settled heavily between us.
In the elevator, silence pressed against my ears.
The doors closed.
Too slowly.
He stood beside me, eyes fixed on the floor indicator.
“You don’t have to be nervous,” he said.
“I’m not.”
He glanced at me.
“You are.”
The elevator stopped.
He gestured toward the parking garage.
“Five minutes,” he said.
“That’s all.”
His office felt different at night.
Darker.
Quieter.
He removed his jacket, draping it carefully over the chair.
“Sit,” he said.
I remained standing.
“This isn’t work anymore,” I said.
He studied me for a moment.
“You’re right,” he admitted.
“It’s not.”
My heart started racing.
“I wanted to make something clear,” he continued calmly.
“I don’t mix emotions with responsibility.”
I laughed softly.
“Then why am I here?”
“Because,” he said, stepping closer,
“you already stepped into this.”
He stopped inches away.
Not touching.
Waiting.
“I won’t pressure you,” he said quietly.
“I don’t need to.”
I looked up at him.
“Then what do you need?”
His gaze softened.
“Consistency,” he answered.
“Trust.”
His hand lifted slowly.
Not to touch me.
Just enough for me to feel the possibility.
“If this becomes complicated,” he continued,
“I’ll protect you.”
“From what?” I asked.
A faint smile touched his lips.
“From yourself.”
My phone vibrated in my bag.
I stepped back.
“I should go.”
He nodded immediately.
“Of course.”
He picked up his jacket and held it out.
“You can take this,” he said.
“It’s cold outside.”
I hesitated.
Then took it.
As I walked away, his voice followed me.
“Don’t overthink tonight.”
I didn’t answer.
Later, at home, I stood in front of the mirror.
Still wearing his jacket.
It smelled like him.
My phone lit up.
Unknown number:
Did you get home safely?
I typed.
Erased.
Typed again.
Nothing.
Another message appeared.
Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.
I stared at the screen.
He hadn’t asked.
He had decided.
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