Chapter 3
519 Words
The Reaction He Wanted
Ace Monteverde never did anything without intention.
So when he told Bea to reschedule his afternoon meeting to his office instead of the conference room, it was not about convenience.
It was about proximity.
At two in the afternoon, the woman arrived.
This one was different. Louder laugh. Brighter lipstick. The kind of confidence that came from knowing men usually lost control around her.
Bea handed her the visitor badge with steady hands.
“Sir is expecting you.”
The woman smiled slowly. “I know.”
She entered.
The door closed.
Bea looked at her screen. She did not need to hear to know what was happening inside. She had memorized the pattern. The silence. The soft sounds. The waiting.
Her jaw tightened, but her posture stayed straight.
Inside the office, Ace was not paying attention to the woman.
He was watching the door.
Listening.
Waiting.
He imagined Bea outside. Pretending not to care. Pretending not to hear. Pretending she did not feel every second of it.
The thought made his chest feel strangely tight.
The woman touched his arm. “You’re distracted.”
He smirked, but his eyes were distant. “Am I?”
Minutes later, the door opened.
The woman walked out with a satisfied smile.
Bea did not look up.
But Ace did not call for coffee this time.
He called her in immediately.
She entered, calm as always.
“You needed something, sir?”
He leaned back in his chair, studying her face like she was a report he could not finish reading.
“Does it ever get exhausting?” he asked.
She blinked. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Pretending.”
Her fingers tightened slightly around the folder she was holding. “I’m here to work.”
“That is not an answer.”
Silence stretched.
His eyes moved over her face, searching for cracks. “You heard her laughing.”
“That is not my concern.”
He stood.
Walked around the desk.
Too close again.
“It bothers you,” he said quietly. Not a question. A statement.
Her voice came out softer than she intended. “It shouldn’t.”
Something flickered in his eyes. Victory. Frustration. Something darker.
“Good,” he murmured. “Because it’s going to continue.”
Her chest tightened.
Not because of jealousy.
Because she suddenly understood.
This was not random.
He was doing this on purpose.
Not for pleasure.
For reaction.
And she was the experiment.
She met his eyes, and for the first time, there was something raw there.
“Is there anything else, sir?”
He held her gaze longer than necessary.
Then stepped back.
“Close the door on your way out.”
She did.
And only when she reached her desk did she allow herself one small, shaky breath.
She was not just working for a powerful man.
She was working for a man who wanted to see how much pain she could endure without breaking.
And the worst part?
She was not sure how much longer she could pretend it did not matter.
- Writer
