Handsome Boss, Office Secret

Chapter 2 - The Long Night

Having wrapped up the initial report, I headed towards his office, but my knock yielded no response. Testing the doorknob, I discovered it was locked. Perhaps he was off gallivanting with some wealthy socialite while I sweated it out on an empty stomach. Annoyed, I shoved the manila folder through the mail slot, secretly relishing the idea of him scrambling to gather the scattered papers—a fitting consequence. The image of him on his knees, sorting through the mess, brought a smirk to my lips. Yet, I knew him too well; he'd likely summon me to clean up the chaos while he observed from his pristine sanctuary.

About seven hours later, after meticulously completing the status updates and meticulously arranging my slides, I hurried through the dimly lit hallway of the deserted building, clumsily clutching the presentation materials to my chest. As I glanced at my watch, the stark reality of the time, 8:45, struck fear into my heart—I was late, and the looming prospect of facing Mr. Jonathan Cavinner's formidable wrath made my stomach churn. As I had painfully learned earlier that day, he had absolutely no tolerance for tardiness. To him, "late" was an unacceptable concept, much like "heart," "kindness," "compassion," "lunch break," or "thank you." With my heart pounding and adrenaline coursing through my veins, I raced through the empty corridors in my sky-high Italian pumps, each step feeling like I was hurtling towards my inevitable downfall. "Breathe, Lisa. He can detect fear," I murmured under my breath, desperately trying to calm the frantic beating of my heart as I neared the conference room, determined to regain control of the situation and salvage what remained of my professionalism.

Soft, golden light seeped from beneath the closed door, indicating the presence of my master within, eagerly awaiting my arrival. Taking a moment to ensure my appearance met his exacting standards, I meticulously smoothed down my hair and adjusted my attire, ensuring that the stack of documents I held was immaculate. With a deep breath to steady my nerves, I lightly tapped on the door, and without hesitation, his commanding voice beckoned me in with a simple "Enter." Stepping into the warmly illuminated room, I was immediately struck by the grandeur of the conference space. The expansive wall opposite me boasted floor-to-ceiling windows, framing a stunning view of the New York City skyline from eighteen stories above. Outside, the city was bathed in the darkness of night, casting a serene ambiance over the urban landscape, while the twinkling lights of towering skyscrapers dotted the horizon. Dominating the room was a magnificent glass conference table, with my master, Jonathan Cavinner, seated imperiously at its head. His suit jacket hung casually on the chair behind him, his tie loosened, and his sleeves rolled up, radiating an aura of effortless authority. Despite the piercing intensity of his gaze as our eyes met, he remained silent, his demeanor inscrutable, adding an air of mystery to the already captivating scene.

"I...I'm sorry, Mr. Jonathan Cavinner," I stammered, my voice trembling with fear after the recent ordeal. "Excuses won't...won't change anything." My heart raced as I summoned what little courage I had left, approaching his seated figure with caution, hoping to conceal my fear behind a facade of false confidence, chin held high. Avoiding his penetrating gaze, I fumbled nervously with the papers in my trembling hands, trying to arrange them neatly before placing a copy of the presentation on the table between us. "Um, can I...can I start?" I asked tentatively, the silence that followed only amplifying my anxiety as his intense stare bore into me. If only he didn't exude such intimidating charm with his handsome appearance, perhaps I could find the strength to focus. Eventually, he gestured for me to proceed, a mere motion that sent shivers down my spine. With a shaky breath, I began the presentation, every word weighed down by the heavy silence in the room, his unwavering focus on the proposal only adding to my growing sense of dread. His calm demeanor, though seemingly composed, only served to heighten my unease; while I had grown accustomed to dealing with his temper, this eerie quietness left me feeling utterly exposed and vulnerable, like a mouse caught in the gaze of a predator.

As I stood beside him, trying to focus on explaining the graphs, a sudden wave of fear washed over me, paralyzing me mid-sentence with my breath caught in my throat. My heart pounded loudly in my ears as I felt his hand make contact, pressing gently into the small of my back before sliding down, sending a chill down my spine as it settled on the curve of my buttocks. In all the time I had worked for him, he had never once initiated deliberate physical contact. But this? This was different. This was deliberate, calculated, and it filled me with a sense of dread that sent shivers coursing down my spine.

His touch seared through the fabric of my skirt, igniting a surge of warmth that rippled across my skin like wildfire. Every muscle in my body tensed, resisting the unwelcome intrusion, as if trying to push him away without physical contact. Internally, a disconcerting sensation washed over me, akin to a slow burn from the inside out, leaving me feeling exposed and vulnerable in his presence. What was he playing at? Despite the urge to assert myself and demand he never lay a finger on me again, my body seemed to betray my resolve, locking me in place. Conflicting emotions swirled within me, intensified by the unexpected arousal stirring deep within—a novel experience for me at this stage in my life. It left me feeling confused and unsettled, grappling with emotions I had never encountered before.