"The Man Who Sees Me Too Much".
726 Words
---
Chapter Four
Amara – “The Man Who Sees Too Much”
I’ve always been good at fading into the background.
It’s safer there. Quieter.
No eyes watching, no questions asked. No one expecting you to be anything but invisible.
Until Zephyr D’Voré.
He sees everything. And for some unfathomable reason… he sees me.
Today, I was late. By two minutes. And it felt like my entire body was on trial the second I stepped into his office. I expected a sharp look. A cold dismissal. Maybe a reminder that I’m replaceable.
But he just looked at me like I was an unsolvable puzzle he was dying to put together.
“Do you always flinch when someone gets close?” he’d asked.
And I had. Because I didn’t know what he wanted.
Men like him always want something.
Power. Control. Bodies.
But Zephyr didn’t look at me like I was a toy. Or prey.
He looked at me like he wasn’t sure what the hell I was doing in his perfectly curated world—and that unsettled him.
Now I’m in the breakroom, trying to swallow the last of my nerves with a lukewarm sip of herbal tea.
“He talked to you again?” Jenny asks, eyes wide as she dumps sugar into her mug. “Girl, Zephyr D’Voré barely speaks to the board members unless it’s business. You’re, like… special.”
I flush, because I hate that word. “No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. And that’s a problem.”
My eyebrows lift. “How is that a problem?”
Jenny leans in like she’s about to share a state secret. “Because women don’t last when they catch his eye. The ones who try to flirt? Fired. The ones who fall in love? Burned. And the ones who actually get under his skin?” She whistles. “Gone, like smoke.”
I don’t know whether to laugh or panic. “You’re saying I should avoid being noticed by the CEO of the company I work for?”
“I’m saying you should survive your probation period before becoming interesting, Amara.”
Her words stay with me all afternoon.
But it’s hard to be invisible when you’re constantly being pulled into his orbit.
At noon, I’m delivering documents to the 31st floor. It’s not even part of my job description, but someone in logistics forgot to update the weekly schedule, and I volunteered.
As the elevator dings open, I nearly drop the folder.
He’s there.
Standing by the glass railing, hands in his pockets, phone pressed to his ear. The city skyline stretches behind him like a postcard, but he might as well be the only thing in the room.
His presence is magnetic. Still. Calculated. Commanding.
I take a slow breath and try to make myself small.
“Got it. I’ll handle it,” he says into the phone. Then, his eyes cut to me.
My feet stop moving.
He lowers the phone, ends the call. “Lost, Ms. Vale?”
My voice catches. “No. I—I’m just dropping off—these.”
I hold the file like a shield. He steps closer, gaze dropping to my hands.
“Relax. I don’t bite.”
“You keep saying that,” I whisper before I can stop myself.
His brow lifts. “And you keep looking like you’re about to run.”
I force a smile, awkward and stiff. “Old habit.”
He takes the folder from me, fingers brushing mine for half a second. Heat blooms up my arm like fire. I hate that it feels like… something.
“You’re different from the others,” he says suddenly, not looking at the file. “You don’t want anything from me.”
“I want a job,” I say. “And peace.”
His lips tilt. “That’s rare.”
A beat passes. Then another. I think he’s going to say more—but then his assistant walks in.
He looks away.
“Thank you, Amara,” he says without facing me again. “You’re dismissed.”
And just like that, I’m invisible again.
But not forgotten.
Because as I walk away, I feel his eyes on my back.
And I realize with a sharp, terrifying clarity…
I’m not the only one fighting whatever this is.
---
- Writer
