Uncharted Territory

The Game of Pretend

Amara's POV

I walked down the hallway of Moretti Tech, the click of my heels echoing in the stillness of the building. The place was sleek and modern—glass walls, polished marble floors, everything designed to convey power and control. It was the kind of building that felt cold, even if you were used to it, and I was used to it.

But the coldness wasn't just in the design. It was in Damien Moretti, the man I worked for.

Damien. The CEO. The one who acted like he didn't care about anything or anyone unless it directly benefited him. His sharp suits and piercing blue eyes made him the kind of man who commanded respect and authority. And yet, he never gave any of that respect back.

I didn't take it personally—well, I tried not to. I was his assistant, and that was all I was. He didn't have time to deal with the small details of the company. That's what I was there for—to handle everything while he sat behind his desk, looking at me like I was an employee, not a person.

I was okay with that. I didn't expect him to treat me any differently.

But, God, it was hard sometimes.

I had never really allowed myself to think much about him—about how he looked or how he carried himself. I couldn't. It wasn't professional, and I had a job to do. But every now and then, those brief moments when he glanced at me—or worse, didn't—tugged at something inside me. I'd catch myself wondering if he thought I was capable. If he noticed me at all.

I stopped in front of his office and took a deep breath. This was routine. Nothing new. The game was the same every day. He'd give me his schedule, I'd handle it, and I'd kee[ everything running smoothly. No personal conversations. No friendly exchanges. Just business. Just the way it was.

I knocked twice, then opened the door.

"Come in," he called, his voice as cold and clipped as ever.

I stepped inside, holding out the tablet with the schedule for the day. Damien barely glanced up from his laptop, the blue glow of the screen illuminating his sharp features. His expression was unreadable, focused entirely on whatever he was working on.

"Briefing," I said, pushing the tablet toward him.

He didn't acknowledge the gesture, didn't even spare me a second glance. "Leave it on my desk."

I had gotten used to this, the way he dismissed me without a second thought. I wasn't bothered by it—most of the time. After all, that was what he paid me for, right? To make his life easier while he ran the company.

I set the tablet on his desk and stood back, waiting. He continued to type, his fingers moving swiftly across the keyboard.

"Damien," I said, trying to keep my tone steady. "You're double-booked for the meeting this afternoon. You need to choose between the tech demo and the pitch for the investors."

He glanced at the schedule I'd just placed on the desk, then at me, but only for a moment before his eyes went back to his screen. "Handle it," he muttered, already moving on to the next thing.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Of course, he didn't want to make a decision. Of course, he'd leave everything for me to sort out. That was Damien—never really concerned with the details unless it directly impacted him. It was the same every day.

"Fine," I said, trying to keep my voice neutral. "I'll move the pitch. It's the only slot available."

Without another word, he got up from his chair, walking past me as if I were invisible. The briefest contact as his shoulder brushed mine sent an inexplicable jolt through me, but I forced myself not to react. He didn't notice. He never did.

"Make sure everything else is in order," he said, heading for the door.

I stood there for a moment, watching him walk out. That was it. No "thank you." No "good job." Just another task handled. Just another day of being overlooked.

I took a deep breath, shook my head, and turned to leave. I was used to it by now—used to the way he treated me like an afterthought, like I was just one more thing to cross off his list.

I grabbed my phone from my pocket, the vibration interrupting my thoughts. It was Ruby, my best friend since college, asking if I wanted to go out for drinks.

"Come on, girl. You deserve a break. Let loose tonight."

I smiled at the message but didn't respond. Not tonight. I had too much to do. And anyway, the last thing I needed was to go out and think about Damien Moretti.

He was just my boss. That's all he was. And I was just here to do my job. It was easier this way, I told myself. Less complicated.

No feelings. No expectations. Just business.

I made my way back to my desk in the corner of the office, where I always worked. I set down my purse and grabbed my planner, scanning through the details for the next few days. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just another series of tasks and emails, meetings and schedules.

The minutes passed quickly, and soon enough, the building was nearly empty. People began filtering out, one by one. Some waved a brief goodbye, others didn't even acknowledge my presence. It was all part of the rhythm—the unspoken rule that work was done, and it was time to move on. But I couldn't help feeling the emptiness that lingered in the air. Even Ruby's texts couldn't pull me from the weight I carried at the end of each day.

I glanced over at Damien's office door, still closed. The shadows inside the room were long, and I knew he was still there, doing whatever it was he did when no one was around. It didn't matter to me. I had my own life to worry about.

But then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the clock on the wall. It was almost 7:30 p.m. The office was empty besides Damien and I. Just as I started gathering my things, a familiar voice broke the silence.

"Amara."

I froze. Damien's voice sounded from the doorway of his office. His tone was low, but sharp.

I turned slowly, meeting his eyes. He didn't look at me in any special way, nothing out of the ordinary. Just another command to keep things running.

"Can you stay a few more minutes? I need to go over a few things."

My heart gave an involuntary skip, but I quickly masked it with professionalism. "Of course," I said. "I'll be right there."

I grabbed my laptop and walked toward his office, trying to keep my pace calm and composed. But inside, my pulse raced for reasons I couldn't explain. There was no reason to be nervous. It was just Damien.

I followed him inside, set my things on the table beside his desk, and waited. He was silent for a moment, his back turned as he moved papers around.

"Schedule the demo for tomorrow, push the meeting back until Thursday," he muttered. "And I need a report on the new product line by Friday. Can you handle that?"

"Got it," I said quickly, noting the details. I was used to this—used to making the decisions, used to him giving me the responsibility and then walking away.

It was always like this.

And that was fine. That was all it ever needed to be.

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Hi All,

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. This is my first official book.

If you all have anything you want to correct in the story please message me and let me know!

Please like and comment <3

Daneev