I swear… everything quietly shifted.
Minutes later, my inbox pinged. My office. Now.
No explanation. Just those words. My stomach dropped. My pulse raced. This was him. That smirk. That quiet, dangerous pull I couldn’t resist.
Every step toward his office felt like walking on glass. My heels clicked louder than usual, echoing in the empty hallway. The closer I got, the tighter my chest felt — like I was both scared and desperate at the same time.
I reached the door. Slightly ajar. I hesitated, heart hammering. Then, against every rational thought, I pushed it open.
He was there. Leaning against his desk, hands folded, eyes sharp, predatory. The smirk on his face didn’t soften. It mocked me.
“Close the door,” he said, voice low and firm. No invitation. A command.
I obeyed.
He studied me, quiet, calculating, like he was measuring every beat of my heart. “I’ve watched you all day, Christine,” he said finally. His words weren’t kind. They weren’t gentle. They were cruel in the way only someone who knew their power could be — making you ache without touching you. “I know exactly how you feel about this.”
I swallowed. My throat dry. “I… don’t know what you mean,” I whispered, though my body betrayed me.
He took a slow step closer, close enough that the heat radiating from him was impossible to ignore. “Don’t lie to me,” he said, and the smirk twisted into something darker, more intoxicating.
Every nerve in me screamed to run. Every part of me wanted to stay.
And just as I thought I might finally speak…
the door creaked.
Someone was outside.