Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The morning air inside the office is still cool, the hum of computers and faint clacking of keyboards filling the space like white noise. I'm crouched over my laptop, eyes fixed on the screen, trying to tame the jumble of schedules and marketing pitches Kelly assigned me. My fingers tap the keys, but the words don't land right. Every sentence feels like it's missing something...something Kelly would have caught in a heartbeat.
That's when I sense her before I see her. A shadow folding over my workspace, a presence too close, too deliberate.
"Let me see." Kelly says, her voice low and smooth but carrying an undeniable edge.
She leans in from behind, standing so close the warmth of her body nearly brushes my back. The scent of her—something spicy, floral, and intoxicating wraps around me, distracting me worse than any deadline ever could.
Her fingers glide over the keyboard, swift and precise, fixing a typo, rearranging a sentence. I can feel the weight of her gaze on me, sharp and assessing. I dare a glance up, and her face is just inches away, her dark eyes boring into mine with a fierce intensity that makes my breath catch.
"Are you okay?" she asks, but it's not really a question. Her tone is soft, but there's that undercurrent of command beneath it.
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. "Yes, Ms. Rowland. Just... processing."
She holds my gaze for a beat longer, as if measuring my strength, my composure. Then, slowly, she straightens but doesn't step away. She remains close enough that I can hear her breath, can feel the faintest touch of her hand on my shoulder, lingering just long enough to make me shiver.
"Good," she says finally, voice low, almost a growl.
My pulse is hammering in my ears, but my voice is steady. "I'm ready for whatever comes next."
Her lips tilt into a faint, knowing smile...one that feels like both a promise and a warning.
"Don't disappoint me, YN."
Then she turns, her heels clicking sharply on the floor as she walks away, leaving behind a charged silence that feels like electricity in the air.
I stare at my screen, willing the words to come back to me, but my mind is tangled in what just happened.
Why did she stand so close? Why did her voice lower, and her breath seem to brush against my skin?
Was this a test? A game? Or something more?
I bite my lip and glance up again. Kelly's at the window now, silhouetted against the pale morning light, her posture relaxed but her eyes still searching mine across the room.
The office is dead quiet. The kind of quiet that settles into your bones.
It's almost 8:30, and I'm still here, staring at a half-finished presentation, pretending I'm not waiting to hear the sound of her heels behind me.
But I don't have to wait long.
Click. Click. Click.
I don't turn when I hear her. I keep my eyes on the screen like a good little assistant. But I can feel her — like the heat from a flame I'm not supposed to touch.
"Still working," Kelly says behind me. It's not a question.
"For now," I reply. "Trying to get it perfect."
She hums, low and soft. "I like that about you."
I feel her step closer, the air between us tightening.
"Though I wonder," she continues, "how perfect you can be when someone's... testing your focus."
I glance up. She's leaning against my desk, just a few feet away. Watching me with that smug, knowing look — the kind that says she's in control of every second you breathe in her presence.
Then she does something I don't expect.
She slowly unfastens the top button of her blouse. Then the next. Fingertips grazing her collarbone, her movements unhurried. Like she's adjusting herself. Like she doesn't notice how my eyes flick there for a split second too long.
"You okay?" she asks, tilting her head, playing innocent.
I blink, stumble over my words. "Uh...yeah. Just....trying to format this slide."
She smiles. It's not sweet. It's dangerous.
"You always get this nervous when someone's watching you?" she asks, stepping a little closer.
"I'm not nervous," I lie, typing one-handed now, trying not to look at her lips.
"Oh, I think you are. Or maybe I'm just... distracting."
She moves behind me, bending to look at my screen again, but her voice is right by my ear now, warm and teasing.
"Is this what gets you flustered, YN? A little attention from your boss?"
I let out a soft laugh, nervous but sharpening. I can't let her have all the control.
I swivel slightly in my chair, face turned toward her.
"You keep flirting with me like this, Ms. Rowland," I say. "I might start to think I'm your favorite."
Her face is close now, her voice lowered, intimate. "Oh baby, I don't play favorites."
"No?" I tilt my head toward her. "Because the way you keep hovering over my shoulder, it's starting to feel like I'm not just your assistant."
She doesn't respond right away. Just looks at me. Long enough for my skin to heat under her stare.
"Be careful with that mouth, YN." she says. "You don't know how far I'm willing to take it."
I smirk. "That's what makes it fun."
And just like that, the shift happens. She's quiet, still as stone, but I see the change. Something sparks behind her eyes... a flash of surprise, something almost... intrigued.
I didn't fold.
And she wasn't expecting that.
Kelly straightens slowly, eyes still locked on mine.
"You're bold." she murmurs, smoothing her hands down her blouse.
We're eye to eye now. The tension is so thick it's almost hard to breathe.
She lingers a second longer than necessary.
Then steps back, just slightly. Her voice returns to that calm, bossy tone I know too well.
"Finish the slides. I want them in my inbox in twenty minutes."
"Yes, ma'am," I say.
She smirks.
And then she turns, walking back toward her office, hips swaying with intention.
Door open. Light on.
She doesn't look back.
But I know she's waiting.
And I'm still standing there, wondering who's playing who.
