The wave of release felt more like collapse. The shame arrived second; clinical, instant, total. I hated myself for the weakness, for the confirmation that I was just as animal as every other man. I wiped the evidence away, washed my hands twice, and buttoned up. On the way out, I caught my own eyes in the mirror, bloodshot, slightly wild.
She was my best friend’s little sister. She was half my reason for buying into this company, though I’d rather jump out the twenty-seventh-floor window than admit it to her or anyone. I was supposed to be her mentor, her boss, her protector. Not the guy jerking off to her voice from two rooms away.
I exhaled until my lungs hurt and returned to my office. The air felt cleaner, or maybe I was just empty. I went back to work, slamming through emails, burning through a backlog of investor questions that would have taken others days.
I buzzed for coffee. My assistant responded instantly, trained to avoid pleasantries unless initiated.
I sensed her in the hallway again. She’d paused outside my glass, holding a sheaf of folders in one hand and her phone in the other, thumb moving in precise flicks. She looked up, caught my gaze, and didn’t blink.
She smirked, a minimal, surgical movement of one corner of her mouth. Then she raised her phone, thumbed a message, and walked away, hips swaying just enough to confirm she knew I was watching.
The notification appeared on my screen instantly.
-Lunch, Valor? Or are you going to hide in your cave all day? E.
I almost barked out a laugh. Instead, I stared at the message, letting my mind replay the last activity I’d had with frame-by-frame clarity.
Was it possible she knew? Impossible. She couldn’t have known. She was just being herself; a lioness, teeth out, waiting for the chase. And I fucking loved every second of her baiting, her teasing, her attacks.
I typed back:Calendar says I’m free at 1:00. Twelve minutes late is on-brand for you, but today try for single digits.
Her reply came a heartbeat later.
-Twelve minutes late is strategic. Builds anticipation. You should try it sometime. You know, building anticipation.
That felt too pointed. I resisted the urge to respond with something cruel, or worse, something honest. I had to keep the balance. The only thing I feared more than wanting her was her knowing how badly I did.
I went back to work, but nothing stuck. My mind kept looping around her, how she’d smirked at me through the glass, how she’d arched her eyebrow like she could see every filthy secret through my skull.
I found myself in the elevator before I realized I’d even stood up. I hated how she rewired my neural circuits, shorted out every plan I made. And I hated how much I liked it.
I stood by the windows in the lobby, watching the city tremble under noon sun, until I felt her approach. Not footsteps – though those were loud, the woman loved her heels – but herenergy. She radiated it. She wore the same suit, but another button was undone on her blouse, and her hair was down. She looked more fuckable than I was comfortable with.
“You’re two minutes early,” she said, lips pressed into a line. “Is Valor losing his edge?”
I checked my watch. “You were three minutes early. Math is still hard for you, I see.”
She rolled her eyes, but her dimple betrayed her. She nodded toward the street. “Come on, I’m starving.”
We walked shoulder to shoulder, close enough to feel the brush of her shoulder every few steps. She didn’t talk at first; she liked silence, and I respected that. When we reached the crosswalk, she spoke but never looked at me.
“So,” she said. “Big morning?”
I stalled. “Define big.”
She grinned, sharp as ever. “I heard a rumor. Apparently, you broke your own productivity record for the quarter. Must be all the stress.”
I stopped at the curb, turned to face her full on. She met my gaze, no fear, only curiosity.
“What are you implying?” I asked.
She shrugged, not bothering to hide the smirk this time. “Only that some people work harder when they’re… distracted. Not that I’d know.”
I felt the spike of adrenaline, the itch at the base of my spine. Was it possible she knew? No. She was just playing her favorite game; find the flaw and poke it until it bled.
I forced my tone even. “Rumors are for interns and bored HR people. I deal in facts.”
She laughed, tipping her head back. “Suit yourself, Valor.”