SIN ON THE 28TH FLOOR

Chapter 4: Boss’s Suspicion

Emma barely slept. She tossed and turned until the sheets were tangled, the sticky remnants of Marcus’s c*m from the night before long dried but impossible to forget. Every shift in bed reminded her. By morning, she’d showered twice, but the shame clung tighter than any scent. *Your stepbrother. At work. On your desk.* She stared at her reflection while applying concealer over the faint hickey on her neck. A scarf would have to do.

The office felt different when she arrived brighter lights, sharper edges. Or maybe it was just her nerves. She kept her head down, answering emails on autopilot. Her thighs still ached faintly from being bent over. When Sarah, her assistant, popped in with coffee, Emma forced a smile that felt cracked.

“You okay? You look like you pulled an all-nighter,” Sarah said, freckles bunching as she frowned.

“Campaign crunch. You know how it is.” Emma took the mug, grateful for the distraction. She avoided the conference room where Marcus was supposedly in meetings. Avoided the copy room entirely.

Around 11:30, her desk phone rang. Ryan’s extension. “Emma, my office. Ten minutes.”

Her stomach flipped. Ryan Caldwell didn’t do casual check-ins. Performance reviews were scheduled weeks out. This felt… off.

She smoothed her black pencil skirt conservative today, high neckline and knocked on the heavy glass door to the corner office. The view behind him was all city skyline, gray clouds pressing low.

“Come in. Close the door.”

Ryan sat behind his massive desk, salt-and-pepper hair perfectly styled, gray eyes sharp as ever. Mid-forties, built like he still lifted heavy weights on weekends. He gestured to the chair across from him. No smile.

“You’ve been doing strong work on Thompson,” he started, flipping through a folder. “Numbers look solid. But I’ve noticed some… distractions lately.”

Emma’s mouth went dry. “Distractions?”

He leaned back, studying her. “New consultant. Marcus Hale. You two seem familiar. Family connection?”

She shifted in the seat, crossing her legs. The motion pressed her sore p***y against the chair and she had to bite back a wince. “Stepbrother. Our parents are married. It’s not a big deal. Professional as always.”

Ryan’s lips twitched, almost amused. He stood and walked around the desk, perching on the edge closer to her. The scent of his cologne something expensive and woody filled the space. “Professional. That’s interesting. Security mentioned some late-night activity on the floor yesterday. And you came in this morning looking like you ran a marathon in those heels.”

Heat crawled up her neck. She tugged the scarf tighter. “I stayed late on the deck. Like I told Sarah.”

He didn’t blink. One hand reached out, adjusting the scarf slightly. His fingers brushed her skin, deliberate. “Hickey. Amateur move. Marcus?”

Emma’s heart hammered. Lying to her boss. To *Ryan*. “No. It’s… nothing. Bad date last weekend.”

“Bad date.” He repeated it like he was tasting the words. His voice dropped lower. “You’re a talented woman, Emma. Ambitious. I’ve watched you climb. But ambition can make people sloppy. Careless with secrets.”

She swallowed, pulse racing between her legs despite the guilt. Or because of it. Ryan had always been intimidating commanding in meetings, decisive. Now that energy felt heavier, more personal. His eyes flicked down to where her skirt had ridden up slightly.

“I’m handling it,” she said, voice steadier than she felt. “Marcus is just helping with the European angles. Temporary.”

Ryan hummed, not convinced. He stayed close, towering over her seated form. “Temporary. Sure. But if he’s distracting you… affecting your focus…” His hand rested on the back of her chair, thumb grazing her shoulder. “I might need to get more involved. Personally.”

The implication hung there. Emma’s mind flashed to Marcus bending her over the desk last night, filling her, calling her his w***e. Now Ryan, watching her like he could see every filthy detail. Her n*****s tightened under her blouse. *What the hell is wrong with me?*

“I appreciate the concern,” she managed. “But I’ve got it under control.”

“Do you?” He tilted his head, gray eyes darkening. For a second, the professional mask slipped just enough for her to glimpse something hungry underneath. “Because you’re flushed right now. Breathing a little fast. And that scarf isn’t hiding much.”

She stood abruptly, chair scraping. Too close. The air felt thick. “Was there anything else for the review?”

Ryan let her step back, but his smirk was knowing. “Not today. But keep your head in the game, Emma. I’d hate to lose you over something… messy.” He paused at the door as she reached it. “And tell your stepbrother I expect full discretion. Or I’ll handle the oversight myself.”

Emma nodded and slipped out, legs unsteady. Back at her desk, she buried her face in her hands for a moment. Guilt gnawed at her Marcus’s c*m from last night, the lies, the way her body reacted to Ryan’s probing stare. She was spiraling.

Her phone buzzed. Marcus: *Dinner aftermath got you thinking about round two? My place tonight.*

She deleted it without replying. But the ache between her legs said otherwise.

Across the floor, she caught Ryan watching through his glass wall. He didn’t look away.

This was getting too complicated. And the worst part? Some twisted part of her was already wondering what “more involved” from Ryan would feel like.