Seduced by My Boss

Chapter Three

The morning felt colder than usual, even though the sun was spilling across the city like it always did. Amira sat at her desk, organizing the day’s schedule, her fingers moving quickly but her thoughts trailing elsewhere. Xander hadn’t acknowledged her when he walked in. No glance. No nod. Not even a low-toned order for coffee or files. Just silence. She’d grown used to his moods, or at least she thought she had. But today felt different. Icy in a way she couldn’t name. Like she had unknowingly crossed a line he hadn’t drawn yet. And now she was being reminded of it. The door to his office stayed shut longer than usual. Meetings came and went. She handled them without error, forwarding call summaries, sending notes, keeping things smooth. Still, not a word from him. By noon, she’d triple-checked everything. The reports were updated. Emails sorted. Nothing was out of place. She hadn’t been late. Hadn’t said anything wrong. She’d barely said anything at all. Maybe that was the problem. Her phone buzzed in her lap, and she quickly angled the screen out of sight. A text from her sister, Eva. "You're bailing on game night again? I miss your awkward laugh." She smiled faintly. Then sighed. Her world had become spreadsheets and silence. She didn’t have time for board games or family dinners. Not when she was still trying to prove she deserved this job. “Something funny?” Xander’s voice came from behind her. She jumped. He stood a few feet away, arms crossed, eyes sharp. Not angry. Just unreadable. She shook her head. “Just my sister. She was trying to guilt me into taking a night off.” His eyes flicked to her phone before returning to her face. “You don’t take nights off?” “Not when I have work to finish.” He held her gaze for a second longer than necessary. Then turned and walked back into his office. She exhaled slowly. Fifteen minutes later, Blake appeared. Again. He leaned on the divider of her desk like he belonged there, holding a wrapped candy bar in one hand. “Thought you might need this. You looked like you were in spreadsheet hell yesterday.” Amira looked up, startled. “Oh. Thank you. That’s... kind.” “You really do talk like someone from the polite generation,” he teased. “You’re refreshing, you know that?” She offered a nervous smile and took the bar gently. Blake leaned a little closer. “If you ever want someone to vent to about the Xander Silver experience, I’m usually by the espresso machine. Or near it. Or thinking about it.” She let out a small, surprised laugh. Xander’s door opened. Blake glanced over his shoulder but didn’t straighten. Amira’s smile vanished immediately. “Carter,” Xander said coolly. “You have a budget report overdue. Unless your new assignment is to flirt with my staff.” Blake lifted his hands. “Just being friendly, boss.” “Be productive instead.” Blake gave Amira a small wink and walked off. She looked down quickly, fingers curling around the candy bar like it might protect her from whatever that was. Ten minutes later, an email dropped into her inbox. Subject: Archive Review – Finance Division 2019-2021 Deadline: End of day. No excuses. The task was massive. No warning. No discussion. Just another silent mountain to climb. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she tried to swallow the confusion. And maybe a little hurt. She didn’t cry. She didn’t complain. She just worked. By seven, the office was quiet again. The others had left. Even Tasha had gone without a sarcastic comment or tea offer. Amira stayed. Her eyes blurred. Her back ached. Her stomach growled once, loud enough to make her wince. She was standing to stretch when the lights flickered. Only for a second. But the brief surge made the computers blink, and her heart raced too fast. She stepped back too quickly and knocked her knee against the drawer edge. “D*mn it,” she whispered, grabbing the edge of the desk. She didn’t hear him approach. But she felt it. Xander’s voice came low and quiet. “What happened?” She turned, startled. He stood there, his expression not angry for once. Just still. And a little too calm. “Nothing. Just my knee. I’m fine.” He stepped closer, eyes moving down briefly to where she rubbed the side of her leg. He crouched beside her desk. Not to touch. Just to see. “No swelling,” he muttered. “Sit down.” She hesitated, then did as he asked. His eyes lingered on her knee again before rising slowly to meet hers. “You need to stop staying so late.” “I needed to finish the task.” “Not at the cost of hurting yourself.” She didn’t respond. He stood up and looked at the files across her desk. “You completed all this today?” She nodded. His jaw tightened, but not in annoyance this time. “You don’t have to work yourself into the ground to impress me, Amira.” “I’m not trying to impress you,” she said softly. That was the problem. He looked at her for a long second, then turned and walked back into his office without another word. The next morning, she found something waiting on her desk. A cold compress pack. Beside it, a small first aid kit with no note. She stared at it in disbelief. Looked around. The floor was still quiet. Only a few early risers were in yet. She touched the kit gently. Her stomach turned with something she couldn’t name. Inside the office, she caught a glimpse of him through the glass. Seated. Focused. Seemingly unaffected. But his eyes flicked up for a second. Just a second. And then they returned to the screen like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t cared at all.

The cold pack sat untouched in her drawer. Amira hadn’t had the courage to say anything about it. No thank you. No quiet acknowledgment. Just silence. Because how did you thank someone who never admitted to doing something in the first place? Xander had walked past her desk that morning like it was any other day. No nod. No glance. No mention of first aid kits or bruises. He wasn’t cold. He wasn’t warm either. He just was. It should have made her job easier, pretending it hadn’t happened. But her thoughts refused to let it go. She found herself paying attention to the small things more than usual. The way he paused by her desk just a second longer when collecting reports. The way his voice softened ever so slightly when saying her name. The way his eyes sometimes flicked to her hands while she typed, like he was watching for tremors she no longer showed. She didn’t understand him. And the more she tried, the more confusing he became. Later that afternoon, she stepped into the staff lounge for a moment of silence, only to freeze just outside the door. Two assistants were whispering, low and sharp. “He’s impossible,” one said. “I swear, the man has no soul.” “He has no patience, that’s what. Didn’t even flinch when Angela quit. Just nodded and said ‘good luck.’ Like she didn’t exist.” “Didn’t he date someone? That board member’s daughter? The one who used to come in with those ridiculous bags?” “Two weeks. She was bragging about the Hamptons one day. Gone the next. Guy’s ice.” Amira held her breath, not moving. “You think he’s seeing anyone now?” “Silver? Please. He only sleeps with numbers and power.” They laughed. The door swung open, and Amira turned quickly, pretending she was checking her phone. The two women walked past her without a second glance. Her throat felt dry. She walked back to her desk slowly, words bouncing around in her chest like they had somewhere to go but no place to land. Was that how everyone saw him? That evening, he asked her to help prepare files for an executive review. She gathered the binders, entered his office, and stood by the conference table while he reviewed notes on his laptop. He gestured to the far screen. “Walk me through the client’s quarterly shift. Slide four.” She cleared her throat and moved toward the panel, clicking to the correct slide. She spoke clearly, summarizing the data point by point, just like he’d trained her to. At some point, she sensed him behind her. Close. Too close. Her heart thudded once against her ribs. She didn’t move. His presence filled the room, but he said nothing. Then, softly, his voice reached her ear. “You don’t realize how sharp you are, do you?” She turned halfway toward him, unsure she heard him right. But he was already walking back to his desk, scrolling through something, acting like he hadn’t said anything at all. The rest of the task passed in silence. She couldn’t focus properly after that. She left the room feeling both lighter and heavier. The following afternoon, she made a minor error in a report heading. A typo. Just one. She saw it the moment she printed it. When she handed the corrected file to him, she apologized quietly. He barely glanced at it. “You’re allowed to make mistakes,” he said. “Once.” It should’ve felt harsh. But the way he said it — low, almost deliberate — it didn’t sting. It didn’t threaten. It sounded like... a rule. A rule he was making for himself, not for her. Later, Tasha spun into her chair and handed her a color-coded report. “You know he doesn’t let anyone get away with mistakes. Except you.” Amira looked up, startled. “It wasn’t a big deal.” “That’s not the point,” Tasha said, smirking. “You’ve got that girl-next-door charm. All shy and whispery, and he still watches you like a hawk.” “He doesn’t—” “He does. You just don’t know how to see it yet.” “I’m just his assistant.” “Uh-huh. And I’m just your best-dressed coworker.” Amira stared at her screen, cheeks burning. “You don’t look at him like a boss,” Tasha added. “You look like you’re waiting for something.” Amira had no reply. That night, as the office lights dimmed and she packed her bag, a new message appeared in her inbox. It was a company-wide email. Subject: SilverCorp Staff Appreciation Mixer Date: Friday, 7 p.m. Dress code: Semi-formal. Attendance expected. She stared at the words like they were written in another language. A mixer. With people. With conversations and heels and wine glasses and noise. Her chest tightened. She looked up through the glass wall separating her desk from Xander’s office. He was on a call, eyes on his screen, face unreadable. But a moment later, just as she started to look away, he turned. Their eyes met. Only for a second. Then he looked back down, as if it never happened. But her pulse didn’t slow. Because now she wasn’t just nervous about what she’d wear. She was nervous about what she might feel.