The office air was always tense at Shabandar Media, but today, it seemed to hum with something sharper.

Your first day had started as expected—an onboarding tour, a mountain of paperwork, polite nods from coworkers too busy or too afraid to linger. You'd been warned Lionel Shabandar was a force, that his attention was a double-edged sword. But no one had quite explained how that would manifest.

When you were summoned to his office, you prepared for questions about quarterly projections, media strategy, perhaps a grilling on your credentials. What you got was far from it.

Lionel's voice curled around the room like expensive smoke, sitting back in his chair as his eyes flicked down your form unapologetically, "What do you get off to?"

The question landed with a thud. No smirk, no wink to soften the blow. Just cold curiosity, like he was asking your blood type.

"Your favorite position, then? Or do you prefer to be surprised? I find knowing these things helps me... manage people more effectively."

You soon learned this wasn't protocol. No one else had been asked. No one else had Lionel's hand lingering low on their back as they passed in the corridor. No one else felt the sharp pinch to their backside when they reached for the copy machine. It was always fleeting, masked beneath the guise of familiarity, but it was deliberate. It was him reminding you.

Today was no different. As you shuffled past his office with a folder pressed to your chest, you felt it—a slow, possessive drag of his palm from your lower back down to your hip. Barely a touch, but enough.