Chapter 16
1137 Words
"Boss, boss," Cleo called softly, tapping him gently on the shoulder. Her brow furrowed in curiosity as she studied his distant gaze. He had been staring at her for a while now, silent and unmoving, as if lost in some private world. She couldn't help but wonder what was going through his mind, what thoughts could possibly be holding him so captive.
"Yes?" he finally responded, his voice low and husky, as if dragged reluctantly back to reality. His eyes lingered on her, filled with something she couldn't quite place, longing, maybe, or frustration. In truth, he had been caught in a vivid fantasy, imagining the feel of her in his arms, the heat of her skin against his. It was a dangerous thought, one that stirred something deep inside him, making him silently furious with himself. It had felt so real… too real. He didn’t want to wake up from it.
"I noticed you've been out of it for a while now, at least thirty minutes," Cleo said gently, a hint of concern in her voice. She reached for the napkin she had picked up from his desk and handed it to him, her fingers brushing his for a moment longer than necessary. "That’s why I came over. I was getting worried."
Her eyes searched his face as she added, "Are you okay, sir?" She tilted her head slightly, her tone sincere and thoughtful. Something about the way he was acting didn’t sit right with her.
"I'm fine. Thank you," he replied, clearing his throat, though his voice was still rough around the edges. He took the napkin from her hand and dabbed at his forehead, avoiding her eyes. But even as he spoke, the echo of his fantasy still lingered, making it hard to breathe, let alone think clearly.
Cloe quietly left the office, heading toward the small kitchenette tucked into the corner of his room. It wasn’t far, just a few steps away, but her pace was slow, deliberate, almost as if she didn’t want to leave him alone for too long. She fetched a glass and filled it with cool water, her fingers trembling slightly as she turned off the tap.
A few moments later, she returned to the office, her heels making soft clicks on the tiled floor. She approached him gently, her presence calm and reassuring. With both hands, she offered him the glass, now filled nearly to the brim.
"This water will help clear your throat," she said softly, her concern etched clearly on her face and evident in the tone of her voice.
"Thanks, Cleo," he murmured, his eyes locking onto hers with a kind of quiet warmth. There was something tender, almost reverent in the way he looked at her, his gaze lingering as he reached out to take the glass from her hands.
He drank it all in one go, the water going down quickly. Then, without a word, he handed the glass back to her.
Cloe noticed how red and tired his eyes looked, and her heart tugged with worry. She stood still for a moment before speaking, her voice soft but insistent.
"If you're tired, you can go to your room and get some rest. I’ll take care of everything here," she said, her eyes scanning his face for any sign that he would accept her offer.
"I'm fine, really," he replied with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. But inside, his mind was racing. If only she knew what I was really thinking, he thought to himself. She wouldn’t even want to be near me. And yet, even as that thought crossed his mind, another, more dangerous one followed.
Cleo gave him a final glance, still worried but knowing better than to push too hard. "Okay... well, if you need anything, I’m right here," she said, her voice quiet as she turned and made her way back to her desk.
"Sure, I will," he replied, the corner of his lips lifting into a smile, but this time, there was something calculating in his eyes, a flicker of something unspoken.
The clock on the wall ticked steadily, its sound blending with the soft hum of the office air conditioning. The day had dragged on, marked by quiet keystrokes, the occasional rustle of paper, and the unspoken weight of exhaustion hanging between them.
Eventually, the time slipped past the last hour of the workday, and Cleo stood from her desk, stretching slightly as she reached for her bag. The sunlight outside had dimmed to a soft golden hue, painting her features in a warm glow.
"Alright, sir, I’m heading out," she said with a gentle smile, her voice still as kind as it had been earlier. "Don’t stay too late, okay? You need rest too."
Ryan looked up from his screen, his expression calm, neutral, even as he replied, "Yeah, I’ll log off soon. Thanks, Cleo. Have a good night."
"Good night," she said, her smile lingering a moment longer before she turned and made her way toward the door.
Ryan watched her, eyes following the subtle sway of her hips as she walked away. The office was quiet now, the shadows of early evening stretching long across the floor, and the only sound was the soft click of her heels growing fainter with each step.
His gaze lingered, half-lidded and slow, dragging over the curve of her back, the way her blouse hugged her figure, the gentle bounce of her hair. He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry again, but not from thirst.
She has no idea, he thought, his thoughts slipping toward dangerous territory. No idea what she does to me just by being in the same room. The way she walks, the softness in her voice… the way her lips move when she speaks…
He leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly, trying to shake the images forming in his mind. But they came anyway, uninvited, her laugh echoing in his memory, the subtle way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, the warmth of her hand when she gave him the glass of water.
If only she knew the kind of thoughts I have when she turns her back…
He dragged a hand through his hair, smirking faintly to himself, though the expression didn’t quite mask the hunger in his eyes.
Still, he made no move, just sat there, alone in the quiet office, the silence pressing in around him as her scent slowly faded from the room.
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