More Than My Boss

Not That Simple

The client lunch should’ve been simple.

Sit down. Smile. Talk numbers. Nothing to make my heart race.

But the moment we entered the restaurant, the tension hit me like static.

Ethan Blake.

Across the table, confident, sharp, lethal in a navy suit that somehow made him look taller, more dangerous. Every subtle movement drew attention. Every glance seemed to magnetize the air around him.

And, of course, he wasn’t just commanding attention—he commanded my thoughts and emotions too.

I focused on the menu, forcing myself to make decisions about salad or the salmon.

“Excuse me,” a smooth, confident voice said, and I looked up to see a tall man standing at the edge of our table. I recognized him from today's meeting He had a polished look, sharp jawline, easy smile, the kind that made people instantly take notice.

“I couldn’t help but overhear—your presentation this morning? Incredible. You handled our questions flawlessly,” he said, his gaze landing squarely on me. I could sense his attention for me wasn't just professional.

I blinked, heart stuttering. “Oh… thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

Ethan’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, jaw tightening just a fraction. I caught it. Puzzled a bit by his reaction.

The man continued, more confident now. “I wish I could handle our presentations half as well. You make it look effortless.”

I forced a polite smile, feeling slightly uncomfortable. “It was a team effort.”

I felt heat rising in my cheeks.

“I’ll let you get back to lunch,” the man said finally, stepping back with a grin that lingered a second too long and made me feel a bit like a bug under a magnifying glass.

Ethan didn’t respond, but the subtle tightening in his jaw, the faint shift in posture, made my pulse spike. I felt seen. Not just professionally, but personally.

I exhaled slowly, gripping my fork too tightly.

“Everything okay?” Ethan asked softly, eyes scanning me.

“Yes,” I said quickly. “You know I am the worst at taking a compliment."

He didn’t respond. He just watched me quietly, intensely. My chest tightened.

After lunch, we walked back to the office. The city streets were warm, but the tension made it feel like static electricity.

Ethan didn’t speak at first. He just walked beside me, the faintest shift in his pace keeping him close.

Then he glanced down, eyes locking with mine. “You handled that well.”

“Thanks,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “It was a little weird, right?”

“Weird?” He raised an eyebrow. “You make everything look effortless, Abby. You shouldn’t downplay it.”

I forced a laugh, shrugging. "If you say so."

He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. There was something there—awareness, a quiet intensity. He noticed everything.

Back at the office, I buried myself in work. Emails, notes, slides, anything to distract myself.

Of course, Ethan asked me into his office under the guise of reviewing a few items from lunch.

I walked in. He was already there, leaning slightly against his desk. Close. Too close.

“Sit,” he said, gesturing to the chair across from him.

I obeyed, heart hammering.

We went through documents—slides, numbers, client feedback—but it wasn’t the work that left me flustered. It was him.

Every time his hand brushed mine, even lightly, I felt a shock ripple up my arm.

“Abby…” he murmured softly.

“Yes?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

“You really are important to me. I uh mean the team.” he said, leaning just a fraction closer, voice low.

I froze. “What do you mean?”

He gave me a look—steady, measured, unreadable. Then he straightened, as if the moment had never existed.

But it had.

I could feel it.

And I knew, the second those words left his lips, nothing about him—or me—would ever be simple again.