"N-no... Not here..." I murmured, my breath hitching as my boss's hand slid down the curve of my skirt, the fabric whispering under his touch.
"Hmm... That's not what your body is saying though~"
His voice was low and raspy, sending a shiver through me as he wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, his presence heavy and inescapable.
"I missed you, Hannah."
He whispered, his breath warm against my ear, every word sinking deeper than it should.
I know this is wrong. I know it deep in my bones — a truth that aches in my chest — but his words… the way he begged for my affection, as if he needed me just as much. His touch, slow and deliberate, stealing my breath. Everything.
It's a poison that I'll willingly drink.
Inside my tiny, cluttered apartment, the alarm rang.
"CLINGGGG! CLANGGGG!"
The sound was shrill, rattling my skull like it was personally attacking me. I groaned, tangled in my sheets, but there was no escaping it. With a groggy swipe, I grabbed my phone.
"Ohhhh shit!!!! I'm late for my interview!!!!" I screamed, my eyes widening at the screen.
7:30. And my interview starts at 8:30.
I scrambled out of bed, my heart pounding, legs already moving on autopilot. Today was my shot at a new job—secretary to the CEO. I couldn't lie: I was probably picked more for my looks than my experience. Great. Pressure.
I bolted for the bathroom, fumbling with the shower knob. Hot water slammed against my skin as I hurriedly scrubbed, the steam fogging the mirror. Every second counted, and my mind raced faster than my movements.
Once done, I towel-dried my hair, brushing it until it fell sleek around my shoulders. My hands shook slightly as I did my makeup—just enough to look polished, not painted, because the office doesn't want a clown. I glanced at my outfit laid out on the bed: classy but not stuffy, formal but still me.
I slipped into a loose white silk sando, the fabric sliding smoothly over my skin, and threw on a tailored office coat. My fitted skirt hugged my hips, black stockings stretching taut, and I slid into my heels, the click of them against the floor echoing like a countdown.
A quick spritz of perfume, subtle but noticeable—just enough to make heads turn.
I grabbed my purse, shoved in my essentials, and bolted out the door. Breakfast? Who even had time for that? My stomach growled, but honestly, who cared? The interview awaited.
Because I hurried too much, I practically ran into the building, heart hammering so fast I was surprised it didn't burst through my chest. I darted toward the elevator, fumbling with the buttons, and thankfully, the doors slid open just before 8:30. Relief hit me for a split second—until the elevator dinged, and I rushed out.
And then… Boom!
I collided with someone. Hard.
A tall, impossibly handsome man with sharp Italian features. My heart slammed against my ribs like it was trying to escape. His dark eyes locked on mine, and suddenly I couldn't think straight. I was completely starstruck, like a cartoon character with hearts for eyes.
"Are you… okay, miss?" His voice was deep, smooth, with an accent that made every syllable feel deliberate, intoxicating, like velvet brushing against my ears. Just his voice—just that—was enough to send me floating.
He reached out a hand, long and strong, veins tracing down like subtle artwork across his skin. My breath caught. Damn… just his hand was enough to make my knees weak.
"U-uh… Yes, thank you…" I whispered, cheeks burning as I hesitated, lost in the sight of him. My hand brushed his, and for a moment, the world slowed. But then reality hit me like a truck. "Oh fuck…"
"I'm sorryyyyy, but I need to hurry… Uhm… I'm really sorryyyy!!!" I babbled, pulling my hand back and sprinting toward the applicants' room, my heels clicking wildly against the polished floor. My cheeks were on fire, my heart still thudding like a drum in my ears, and I could swear I felt his gaze lingering on me as I ran.
Inside the room, there were ten applicants, each with a sharp, polished look—nice bodies, beautiful faces—but honestly, I wasn't here to fall for appearances. Looks didn't impress me… well, usually they didn't.
The interviewer walked in, clipboard in hand, eyes scanning the room.
"Good morning, everyone. The CEO will come in a moment, and he'll personally pick the one who'll be his secretary." he announced, voice calm but firm.
My stomach flipped. My heart wasn't just racing from the morning rush—it was still hammering from the man I had just bumped into. The memory of his scent, his hand, that deep, intoxicating voice—it made me dizzy just thinking about it.
Then, the door opened.
And there he was.
The same man. The one who had made my pulse skip a million beats. My legs wanted to give out, but I forced myself to stay upright. He walked in with the confident, effortless grace of someone used to having everyone's attention. Dark eyes scanning the room, and a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"This is the CEO, Sir Enzo Bellini." the interviewer said, gesturing toward him.
W-What? My mind went completely blank. That handsome man was the CEO? Not some stuffy old man with a gray beard? My inner voice screamed so loudly I thought everyone could hear it.
I pressed my lips together, cheeks burning like I had just touched a flame. My pulse raced, my brain scrambled—how was I supposed to focus on the interview when he was here?