"You're Mine Forever"

🔥 Chapter 4 — Sir & Miss Hayes

The next day Ella spent the entire morning trying not to look at him.

She typed.

She organized files.

She scheduled meetings.

Her face stayed calm. Her voice stayed polite. Her heart? It was a storm tearing her apart from the inside.

Every time she said “Yes, Sir,” a small piece of her chest cracked. And every time Michael responded with that cold, CEO tone, she felt the distance grow like a wall.

But she never let him see her pain.

She refused to.

---

Around noon, Michael stepped out of his office with a folder. His face was unreadable—smooth, disciplined, professional. But his eyes… if someone looked close enough… they were glassy with something darker. Something he tried desperately to hide.

He noticed the soft waves of her hair falling just past her shoulders, the gentle curve of her lips when she concentrated, the way her skirt hugged her silhouette. Not in a crude way, but in a way that made him pause, even in the middle of work.

“Miss Hayes,” he said, voice crisp and boss-like, “print the quarterly budgets and bring them to my office.”

Her heart stung at the formal tone.

But she nodded without emotion.

“Yes, Sir.”

He blinked—barely—but she noticed.

Because she noticed everything about him now.

She stood, passed him to take the folder from his hand. Their fingers brushed for half a second.

A spark.

A collision.

An electric shock that neither of them acknowledged.

Michael withdrew his hand too fast, like her touch burned him.

Ella pretended nothing happened.

---

Thirty minutes later she walked into his office with the printed budget sheets. She placed them neatly on his desk.

“Is there anything else, Sir?”

He exhaled silently, leaning back in his chair, eyes dragging over her face with a softness he quickly buried. He admired the color of her eyes, the neat line of her blouse, the way her skirt fell just perfectly—simple, elegant, yet enticing without intention.

“No,” he said stiffly. “That will be all, Miss Hayes.”

She nodded, turned to leave—

“Ella.”

Her hand froze on the doorknob.

“Close the door,” he said quietly.

Her heart jumped. She shut it and turned slowly.

Michael stood up from his chair. He walked around the desk, stopping in front of her—far enough to be appropriate, but close enough that she felt warmth from his body.

“This morning…” he began, voice lower, “you’ve been distant.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I’m working professionally. Isn’t that what you wanted, Sir?”

His jaw flexed. He hated the word Sir.

But he forced himself to stay composed.

“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“Oh, I’m not,” she said with a polite smile. “I’m simply following your boundaries.”

The words sank into him like a knife.

“I never meant to push you away.”

“You asked for distance,” she corrected. “And I respect that. At work, we’re boss and secretary. Nothing more.”

His eyes softened—pain, guilt, curiosity, fascination all tangled together.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Ella crossed her arms. “I only know what you said.”

He swallowed, something frustrated flickering through him.

“You’re doing this on purpose.”

She tilted her head. “Doing what, Sir?”

He ran a hand through his hair—something he only did when he was losing control.

“Ella… I—”

A knock at the door.

Michael instantly stepped back, posture turning CEO-stiff again. Ella stepped away too, the mask sliding back on her face.

“Come in,” Michael said, voice cold again.

Their moment died.

---

The rest of the day passed in careful silence.

Talking only when necessary.

Looking only when required.

Feeling everything but showing nothing.

Michael noticed every detail—how she talks politely with the other workers, the way her hair framed her face, the curve of her lips when she smiled politely. He wanted to talk, to laugh with her, to be like the night at her door—but propriety and office rules chained him.

Ella survived the day, though every glance toward his office window made her heart clench. "How am I supposed to focus? Seeing him all day… it’s impossible."

---

After work

When the clock hit six, Ella grabbed her bag and headed to the elevator. She heard Michael calling after her:

“Miss Hayes, wait.”

She didn’t.

She stepped inside the elevator, acting like she didn’t hear him.

He reached the doors just as they were closing, and for a second, their eyes locked—his desperate, hers guarded.

The elevator closed.

Ella exhaled shakily.

Outside the building, Michael was leaning casually against his car, watching her. His car was sleek, black, expensive—just like him in work mode. His posture relaxed, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed the restraint he had kept all day.

“Ella,” he said softly, walking a few steps toward her. “I wanted to… talk. Just a moment.”

“No, thank you,” she said, keeping her voice polite but firm.

She exhaled, conflicted, but nodded. They stood near the curb, the hum of the city around them. He noticed the faint flush in her

“I just… wanted to see you,” he said, voice lower now. “To talk. Not about work. Not titles. Just… us.”

She didn't answer..

“Ella,” he said, walking toward her, “I’ll drive you home.”

“No, thank you,” she replied, keeping her voice steady and polite.

“It’s late,” he insisted. “It’s not safe.”

“I’ll take the bus.”

“Ella—”

She shook her head. “Not tonight. I need… space.”

He froze.

Space.

The same thing he demanded this morning.

Now she wanted it.

And it hurt him more than he expected.

He stepped back slowly, letting her walk away, eyes burning with something sharp and jealous when another man at the bus stop glanced at her.

But he stayed silent.

She didn’t look back.

---

Late Night, Ella was brushing her hair when she heard it.

A knock.

Soft.

Controlled.

But undeniably his.

When she opened the apartment door, Michael stood there in a fitted black shirt, eyes stormy, hair messy like he’d been running his hands through it all evening.

He wasn’t CEO Michael now.

He was the man who almost kissed her.

“Ella…” His voice was rawer than she’d ever heard it.

“What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t let me talk today.”

“That was your rule, Sir.”

“Stop calling me that out here,” he snapped softly, stepping closer, voice trembling. “Not when you say it like… that.”

She swallowed, heart racing.

“What do you want, Michael?”

He looked at her like he was breaking and burning at the same time.

“I want you to stop pretending you don’t feel anything.”

“I’m not pretending,” she whispered.

“Yes, you are.”

He moved closer—careful, slow, controlled—every step filled with heat he was desperate to hide.

“I see the way you avoid looking at me,” he murmured. “I hear the way your voice shakes when you say ‘Sir’. I know when you’re hurting because I feel it too.”

Her breath caught.

“But at work…” she whispered.

“At work,” he said, jaw tense, “I have to be professional.”

“And here?”

His chest rose sharply.

“Here…”

He paused, eyes falling to her lips.

“…I don’t want to be your boss.”

The distance between them crackled.

Jealousy.

Desire.

Pain.

Everything unsaid.

Ella stepped back slightly, forcing the air between them again.

“You wanted boundaries, Michael.”

“Yes,” he whispered, stepping toward her again. “But I didn’t expect them to hurt this much.”

Ella forced her gaze away, still upset about the way he’d behaved at the office.

He stepped slightly closer, just enough that she could feel his warmth, the faint brush of his sleeve near hers. “I understand,” he said. “But I want you to know…” His eyes locked on hers, intense and searching.

“…I’ve liked you from the very first moment I saw you.”

The words hit her harder than anything physical ever could. She wanted to answer, to reach out, but her chest tightened. She couldn’t. The sting of the day, the office tension, the professional distance—she swallowed her feelings.

She nodded silently, letting him see the weight of her restraint.

Michael stepped back, breathing slightly heavier, his jaw tense but controlled. He watched her for one long moment, memorizing the curve of her lips, the shine in her eyes, the way she looks at him —like he always wanted to see her, even from afar.

Then he finally turned and walked away, leaving her standing there, heart thrumming, mind spinning, aware that their connection had only grown—and that navigating it would be far more complicated than either of them expected.