Seducing My Nerdy Boss

Chapter 3. The Unnoticed Change

Four weeks had passed since Elara started working at Morris Tech Solutions. The routine was set in stone and unchanging as the tides. Every morning, Elara arrived at 6:45 AM, before anyone else, including Cleon.

She ensured his office was clean, the air conditioning was set to the right temperature and his desk was organized exactly how he liked the files stacked by date, pens aligned perfectly and monitor screens wiped clean.

At 7:00 AM sharp, Cleon would arrive. He walked with long, head held high while carrying only a thin laptop bag. He would nod briefly at Elara, never more than a quick tilt of the head and walk straight into his office, closing the door behind him.

For the rest of the day, their interactions were purely transactional.

“Ms. Fajardo, bring me the contracts.”

“Ms. Fajardo, cancel the 3:00 PM meeting.”

“Ms. Fajardo, correct this typo.”

“Ms. Fajardo, leave me alone. Do not disturb unless urgent.”

He never said please. He rarely said thank you. And when he did, it was short, automatic, and spoken without ever meeting her eyes. He only looked at papers, screens, walls, or out the window… but never at her face for longer than a split second.

To Cleon Morris, Elara was a highly efficient, well-functioning extension of his workspace. Nothing more. She was good at her job, better than the previous assistants. She anticipated his needs, she never complained, she was never late, and she didn’t try to engage him in useless small talk like others did. He appreciated her efficiency but that was the limit of his regard.

To Elara on the other hand, these four weeks were a test of patience. She was used to being the center of attention and the one whose presence changed the mood of a room. There, she was invisible. But instead of discouraging her, it only made her more determined.

She watched him every day.

She learned that he worked too hard, skipping meals unless food was placed directly in front of him. She learned that he hated loud noises or sudden movements. She learned that he rubbed the back of his neck when he was stressed, pushed his glasses up his nose when he was thinking, and ran his hand through his hair until it was messy when he was coding.

She learned about the people in his life.

Mr. Santiago, another board member and a close family friend, visited often. He was older, wiser, and treated Cleon like a nephew rather than a boss. One afternoon, about five weeks into her employment, Mr. Santiago sat at the guest chair in Elara’s workspace while waiting for Cleon to finish a call.

“You’re doing well, Miss Fajardo,” Mr. Santiago said kindly while watching her work. “I’ve seen many assistants come and go. Most quit within the first month because they think Cleon is a robot. But you… you stayed. And I see the little things you do. The warm tea. The food left on his desk. You are so observant.”

Elara smiled softly, glancing through the glass at Cleon who was currently speaking firmly into the phone, his expression serious and authoritative.

“He works too hard, Sir. He forgets to take care of himself. So someone has to remind him.”

Mr. Santiago sighed, folding his hands over his stomach. “You know… ten years ago, Cleon was nothing like this. He was twenty years old, full of laughter and always surrounded by friends. He was kind, too kind actually. He wore his heart on his sleeve. He loved technology, yes, but he also loved parties, hiking, playing the piano… he loved living.”

“What happened, Sir?” Elara asked quietly, already knowing part of the answer but wanting to understand more.

“Life happened,” Mr. Santiago said sadly. “When he was twenty-one, his parents were traveling to a business conference. Bad weather, heavy rain, a truck lost control… their car was crushed. Cleon identified the bodies himself. He was devastated. He thought it was his fault because he had encouraged them to take that route to save time.”

Elara felt her chest tighten. That explains the guilt.

“And then?” she prompted gently.

“And then there was Clara,” Mr. Santiago continued, his voice dropping lower. “Clara was his childhood sweetheart. They grew up together, best friends since they were five years old. Everyone knew they would marry. She was sweet, quiet, loved painting and reading. She was the only one who could make Cleon smile until his cheeks hurt. But just a year after his parents died… Clara got sick. Leukemia. It was fast and cruel. She fought for eighteen months and Cleon spent every single day by her side, neglecting his studies and pouring everything he had into saving her. But she left him anyway.”

Elara covered her mouth, tears pricking her eyes. He lost everything. In just two years, he lost his entire world.

“After the funeral,” Mr. Santiago said, looking toward Cleon’s office with deep sadness, “Cleon locked himself in his house for three months. When he came out… he was this man. Cold, distant, sharp, focused only on work. He told me once, ‘If I don’t care about anything, nothing can hurt me. If I don’t love anyone, I can’t lose them. Work doesn’t die. Work stays.’ so je built this company not just to be successful… but to build a fortress around himself where feelings were forbidden.”

Mr. Santiago looked at Elara intensely.

“That's why he's like this, Miss Fajardo. He isn’t ignoring you because you aren’t beautiful or charming or kind. He ignores you because he sees how beautiful, charming, and kind you are… and that terrifies him. You represent everything he swore to avoid, the warmth and care. So be careful. If you stay, you will melt that ice… but when ice melts, it becomes water. And water can drown you if you aren’t careful.”

He stood up and walked into Cleon’s office, leaving Elara sitting there, her heart's heavy but also filled with a strange resolve.

She looked at Cleon through the glass. He had finished his call and was staring blankly at his screen, his expression unreadable, his eyes dark and lonely behind his glasses.

You think you are safe inside your fortress, Elara thought softly. You think being cold protects you. But I’m going to stay right here, Cleon Morris. Day after day. Month after month. I’m going to be the steady warmth at your door until you realize… that being loved is not a danger. It is a gift.

Later that week, Elara got her first real glimpse of Cleon’s internal conflict.

It was late, past 8:30 PM. Everyone else had gone home. Only the two of them remained in the building. Cleon was working on a complex presentation for investors, his brow furrowed while massaging his neck constantly from tension.

Elara prepared a warm cup of milk, something she had noticed he drank occasionally when he was exhausted and brought it in, along with a small towel she had warmed in the pantry microwave.

She knocked and entered quietly. Cleon didn’t even look up.

“Put it down, Ms. Fajardo. Thank you.”

Elara placed the items down, but instead of leaving immediately like she usually did, she stayed standing beside his desk.

“Sir,” she said softly, her voice gentle but firm. “You've been sitting in that same position for seven hours. Your neck is stiff, your shoulders are tense, and your eyes are red. Please… just five minutes. Stand up. Stretch. Drink this warm milk. It will help you relax so you can think better.”