Office hours
He's the kind of boss who makes professionalism look optional - too charming for his own good, too clever to ever seem like he's trying. He runs the company with a mix of confidence and carelessness that keeps everyone guessing which one's the act.
She's his assistant - anxious, precise, and determined not to give him a reason to regret hiring her. She notices everything: the lazy smirk that hides exhaustion, the way he looks out the window when he's bored, the quiet moments when he's not pretending to have it all together.
They shouldn't work.
And yet, somehow, they do.
Their days become a balancing act - between teasing remarks and tense silences, late-night meetings that last too long, and a growing pull neither of them will name. Every glance feels like a question. Every touch that almost happens feels like an answer they're not supposed to want.
It's not just office politics anymore. It's a slow burn of restraint and temptation, an emotional tug-of-war that asks the question neither of them wants to face:
Will they - or won't they?