Lara's POV
Marco only released my hand once we stepped inside his office. The room was quiet, filled with the faint scent of his cologne and the hum of the city from the glass windows behind his desk. I stood there awkwardly, unsure where to place myself.
"Can I go to my table now?" I finally asked, my voice soft but steady.
He looked at me with that familiar smirk, the one that always made my heart race and my temper rise at the same time. He didn't answer right away. Instead, he studied me for a long, unreadable moment before taking a slow step closer.
"No," he said at last, his tone calm yet firm. "For now, you will have your office here. This room is too big for one person, and that," he gestured toward the far end of the office, "will be your table starting today."
I turned my head to look. There was a new desk placed neatly near the window, one that hadn't been there before. My chest tightened at the realization that he must have arranged it himself.
