Beneath the surface

Chapter 2- The View Next Door

🖤 Leyla’s POV

Leyla stood in front of the tall glass doors, the faint reflection staring back at her like a stranger.

The woman in the reflection didn’t look nervous.

She looked dangerous.

Her black pencil dress hugged her curves in all the right places. The subtle built-in support lifted her breasts just enough, and the front slit was elegant — but when she walked, it whispered promises. Red stilettos clicked against the floor, matching the fire of her lips.

Her hair was pinned up in a loose bun, with strands teasing down the sides of her face, making her hazel eyes seem darker. The black eyeliner made them almost feline.

She walked through the lobby like she owned it.

Fake it till you feel it, she reminded herself.

“Right this way,” the receptionist said with a curious glance, heels snapping as she guided her.

Leyla’s office was next door to his. Sleek. Sophisticated. Minimalist furniture in dark woods and brushed steel. A glass wall on one side overlooked the city skyline.

“Welcome to the kingdom,” one of the girls teased, popping her head in. “Careful. The boss doesn’t like noise, mess, or attitude.”

Another chimed in with a sly smile. “But he seems to like curves lately.”

Leyla offered a tight smile. “Thanks for the warning.”

Her morning filled up quickly — meetings, presentations, strategy briefs. She kept her head down and her thoughts focused, despite the murmurs that followed her heels. Still, every now and then, she caught a few of the guys stealing looks, whispering behind folders.

She didn’t care.

She only wondered one thing: Had he seen her yet?

👔 Miran’s POV

He didn’t notice her until after lunch.

He’d been buried in numbers, contracts, fire-fighting two potential crises before noon. The office air was stale, and his temper short. His team was inefficient today. Scatter-brained. Distracted.

When his assistant buzzed in to say “Miss Demir made an unauthorized change to the influencer campaign”, his irritation snapped.

“Send her in,” he growled.

The door opened.

And then…

He forgot what he was angry about.

Leyla stepped inside like a sin carved in silk. The black dress. The red heels. The slit that revealed just enough thigh to send his thoughts crashing into all the wrong places.

Jesus.

His eyes swept up her legs, to the curve of her hips, the full swell of her breasts framed perfectly in that dress. Her makeup was subtle but lethal — her lips glossy and red, eyes dark, dangerous.

This wasn’t the soft, bookish girl from yesterday.

This was a woman.

And it rattled him.

“You wanted to see me?” she said calmly, brows slightly lifted.

He cleared his throat, trying to remember why the hell she was here. “Yes. Sit.”

She crossed the room, that slit parting with every step, and he had to adjust the way he sat behind his desk.

When she crossed her legs, that was it. His jaw clenched.

“You approved a budget shift without my signoff.”

Leyla’s eyes flickered. “It was time sensitive. The influencer responded within an hour window. I acted on what I thought was best for the campaign.”

“You thought?” he echoed. “You’ve been here less than 24 hours, Miss Demir.”

She tilted her head. “And I’ve already started making improvements. Isn’t that what you hired me for?”

His eyes narrowed. “I hired you to follow protocol.”

Her chin lifted. “And I will. When protocol doesn’t get in the way of opportunity.”

His mouth twitched — not quite a smile. Not quite approval.

She’s pushing back, he thought. Good. But dangerous.

“You seem awfully confident,” he murmured.

“And you seem awfully surprised that a woman can be both pretty and smart,” she said, evenly.

That hit.

Something hot curled in his gut.

He stood slowly, moving around the desk, closing the space between them.

Leyla tensed, but didn’t flinch.

They were too close now.

He wasn’t touching her. But it felt like he was. The air around them pulsed, thick with heat and challenge.

“I’m not surprised,” he said softly. “I’m distracted. There's a difference.”

Her breath hitched — just slightly — before she masked it.

“I’ll be more careful next time,” she said, rising.

He moved aside, not missing the brief flash of thigh as she walked past.

The door shut behind her.

He stood there for another full minute.

Hard as stone.

And pissed off about it.