For a long while, Raymond simply stared at the beautiful woman lost in her work. He remained still and silent, until the weight of his thoughts became too much to bear.
"Just how much longer do you intend to work?"
The question pulled phoebe's focus away from her computer screen. She shifted her gaze toward the sofa in her office, where Raymond sat watching her. "What did you just say?" she asked, her voice clipped as if she hadn't heard him the first time.
Raymond let out a slow sigh and glanced at his watch. "It's late, very late. Even employees have set working hours, so why are you, the Boss, working without any sense if limits?"
Phoebe rolled her eyes and turned back to her monitor. "I never asked you to wait for me. If you're bored, you're free to leave my office right now. In fact, I believe I told you to leave earlier."
Instead of leaving, Raymond rose from the sofa. "It isn't about being bored or wanting to go home. I'm reminding you that work has its boundaries because your body needs rest. Aren't you exhausted after a day like this?"
Exhaling sharply, Phoebe made no effort to hide her irritation. She resented his interference, even if his intentions were rooted in a rare moment of concern. "I know my own body. When I'm tired, I'll rest."
She pushed back from her desk and walked toward the document shelf, but as she reached for a folder, she froze. The faint dizziness she had been fighting all evening suddenly intensified, turning into a violent, sickening whirl.
The silence of the office shattered the moment Phoebe's body went limp. For a man who remained unfazed even in the presence of death, the sight of this formidable woman collapsing was a new kind of terror. Panic, a sensation long buried beneath layers of cold discipline, surged violently. Without a second thought, a pair of powerful arms caught her before she could hit the floor, lifting her with a protective gentleness that bordered on desperation.
The heart beneath his bespoke suit hammered against his ribs as he forced a call through to his most trusted associate.
"What is it, Boss?"
"Find a Doctor and have them at my place immediately!" He barked the command, his sharp eyes focused on cutting through the darkness of the road ahead.
"Boss, what happened? Is there—"
"I'm fine, but my girl is down. She collapsed."
"How did she—"
"Now, Enzo!" The call ended abruptly. The car's engine roared into the night, a metallic beast tearing through the streets at a lethal speed.
*****
Eyes that were usually sharp and calculating now flickered open slowly, staring at an unfamiliar, towering ceiling. A dull, persistent ache throbbed behind her temples. As her vision cleared, the reality hit, this wasn't her room. The space was cast, draped in a dark, masculine luxury that felt both imposing and strangely intimate.
"Where am I?" The whisper was hoarse, barely audible.
A figure who had been sitting in restless silence stood up instantly. The tension in the man's shoulders eased, if only slightly. "You're finally awake."
Phoebe turned her head, squinting to recognize the silhouette approaching her. "You? Why are you here? Where am I?"
"You fainted in your office." The explanation came in a tone far softer that his usual edge. "You're at my place now."
Before her mind could fully process the situation, a Doctor stepped toward the bedside. "It's good to see you're conscious, Miss. May I perform a quick follow-up examination?"
Phoebe could only offer a weak nod. In silence, she allowed the Dokter to check her pulse and blood pressure. The room fell into a heavy quiet, save for the rhythmic breathing and the faint, expensive ticking of the watch on the man standing nearby.
"So … what happened to me?" Phoebe finally asked.
"Physically, nothing life-threatening," the Doctor replied while packing her instruments. "You fainted from sheer exhaustion. It seems your body has finally reached its limit."
A brief silence followed. Phoebe knew she was right, the endless nights of documents and unyielding stress were finally collection their debt.
"You cannot continue like this, if you lack sleep at night, you must compensate during the day. Do not try to push an engine that is already overheating.'
"How can I rest during the day when the work is piling up?" Her stubbornness flickered, though her voice remained fragile.
"I understand, Miss, but ignoring your health will only accelerate your collapse. This was a warning. Next time, the price might be much higher."
Phoebe didn't argue, she chose silence, feeling too drained to even defend her own ambitions. The Doctor gathered her bag, but before leaving, she gave a small, discreet signal to the Master of the house.
"Sir, a word with you in the other room?"
The request was met with a curt nod. "Stay here and rest," the man told Phoebe, his gaze lingering on her for a few seconds before he turned to follow the Doctor out.
In the cold hallway, their footsteps stopped. The Doctor lowered her voice, ensuring the conversation stayed far from the ears inside the room. The initial blood screening from her unconscious state had revealed something far more significant than mere fatigue.
"Is everything truly alright?" The question was sharp, weighted like a blade.
"Physically, she is stable. The fainting was indeed triggered by exhaustion," the Doctor confirmed carefully. "She is safe for now," the Doctor continued, oblivious to the storm of emotions swirling behind the calm mask of the man before him. "But she requires extreme care. I will provide the necessary supplements for her recovery."
Only silence followed, his mind raced, spinning new webs and shifting strategies in an instant. A faint smile, thin but heavy with meaning, began to trace his lips. The gaze that had been clouded with worry turned into something darker, something fiercely possessive.
"Thank you, Doctor. You may go."
The front door clicked shut, leaving the hallway in a heavy stillness. He remained there, staring at the closed bedroom door. The game had just changed completely. His interest in Phoebe had always been intense, but now, he had a permanent reason never to let her go.
*****
Inside the quiet room, Phoebe's hand brushed against her chest, and her heart nearly stopped. She realized several buttons of her blouse were undone, and the belt of her trousers had been loosened. A surge of cold fury washed over her, momentarily drowning out her exhaustion.
"Raymond!"
Her scream shattered the silence of the penthouse. In the hallway, Raymond snapped out of his dark reflections on the Doctor's news. He moved toward the bedroom with measured steps, leaning against the doorframe with an infuriatingly calm expression.
"I'm right here," he replied his voice a smooth contrast to her hysteria.
"What did you do to me?!" Phoebe's eyes flashed with a lethal intensity. Despite the lingering ache in her head, she scrambled to the centre of the bed, clutching her open shirt closed.
Raymond's brow arched in mock confusion. "What exactly are you accusing me of?"
"Don't play dumb! Why are my clothes undone? Why is my belt loose?!" Her voice trembled with rage. "You took advantage of me, didn't you? You waited until I was unconscious because you knew I couldn't fight back!"
Instead of acting offended, Raymond let out a low, melodic chuckle. The sound only fuelled Phoebe's
Irritation. He began to walk toward her, each step slow and deliberate, until he stood right at the edge of the bed. He loomed over her, his shadow casting a long, intimidating silhouette against the silk sheets.
"Why are you laughing? Tell me the truth! Did you enjoy yourself while I was out?" she spat, her words coming out fast and sharp.
"Do you truly believe I'm that desperate, Miss Fortunata?" Raymond asked, his voice dropping an octave as he leaned in closer.
"Stop staring at me like I'm you prey!"
"If I wanted to 'play' with you, I wouldn't wait for you to be unconscious," he countered, his gaze locking onto hers. "As I recall, we were both very much awake the last time we enjoyed each other's company."
The memory of that night in Italy hit Phoebe like a physical blow, her face flushed, a mix of embarrassment and lingering attraction she refused to acknowledge. "Stop it! I have no intention of repeating that mistake with a man like you!"
"Mistake?" Raymond repeated the word as if it were foreign concept. "You certainly didn't call it a mistake back then."
He reached out, his fingers grazing her chin with a touch so gentle it was almost agonizing. Phoebe tried to flinch away, but his presence was overwhelming, trapping her in a space that felt far too small.
"Stop touching me! And stop looking at me with those eyes!"
"Why?" Raymond whispered, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips as he tilted her face upward. "Are you afraid you'll be tempted again, Miss Fortunata?"