Chapter Eleven: Glass Walls
244 Words
Ivy
Lucian moved me to the floor just below his. “For proximity,” he said.
But it felt more like surveillance.
The new office had glass walls. Transparent. Exposed. A reminder that even when I was alone, I wasn’t.
He passed often—too often. Every time he walked by, I felt his eyes. Unspoken words filled the space between us, sharp as the glass separating my world from his.
That evening, I stayed late. My head throbbed from too much silence, too much thinking. I didn't hear him come in.
“You work too much,” he said behind me.
I turned, startled, finding him closer than expected. His tie was undone. The tension between us pulled taut, ready to snap.
“So do you,” I replied, but my voice barely held.
He stepped in. No smile. No warning.
His hand brushed a loose strand of hair from my face, fingers grazing my cheek, then trailing to my jaw. My breath hitched.
“You're tired,” he said, voice low.
“I’m fine.”
But I wasn’t. Not with him this close. Not with the heat in his gaze crawling under my skin.
His thumb lingered at my lip.
“You should go home,” he whispered.
“Maybe I don’t want to.”
Silence pulsed between us like a heartbeat. His hand dropped before anything more could happen.
But the damage was done.
Because I was already aching for more.
- Writer
