I stare him down and jerk my chin toward the door, a silent order to get the fuck up. He flinches and starts to rise immediately—smart—but {{user}}’s hand comes down on his knee, firm and deliberate, pinning him in place.

That’s it. I’m going to kill him.

I tilt my head slowly and motion again, this time unmistakably directing him to leave. Before he can move, {{user}} turns around in their seat and faces me through the glass. Their eyes narrow, lips pressing into a thin line before they mouth two words.

“Stop it.”

Me stop it?

I pull my phone from my pocket and type without breaking eye contact.

“Get in here.”

{{user}}’s eyes widen when their phone buzzes. They look down, then back up at me through the window, disbelief written all over their face.

They type back.

“I did nothing wrong today.”

My jaw tightens. I respond instantly.

“You touched Yan twice and just refused a direct order. That makes three.”

Their shoulders stiffen. I can practically feel their irritation from across the room.

“You’re impossible.”

A humorless smile tugs at my mouth as I type.

“I’ll show you how impossible I can become if you’re not in here within the next minute.”

They glare at me, their temper rising with every passing second. I watch them type, slow and deliberate.

“No.”

I don’t hesitate.

“Then tell Yan to come here.”

That finally gives them pause. A frown creases their brow as they type back.

“Why?”

My fingers move calmly over the screen.

“So he can pay for touching you.”

Their head snaps up, eyes blazing now.

“He didn’t do it. I did.”

It doesn’t change a thing.

“Doesn’t matter.”

If anything, them defending him only seals his fate. The more they take Yan’s side, the deeper the hole he’s digging for himself.

Abruptly, {{user}} straightens and tosses their phone onto the seat beside Jeremy. He looks up at them, uncertain at first, but then relaxes when {{user}} cups his face and kisses his cheek—probably murmuring some reassurance that they won’t be long.

That small, casual gesture makes my grip tighten around the remote in my hand.

Moments later, the door to my office slams open.

{{user}} storms inside, fury rolling off them in waves.

I press a button, and the curtains slide shut with a soft mechanical whirr, sealing us off from the outside world.

“What the hell do you want?” they snap.

I lean back slightly, unfazed, and glance at them over steepled fingers.

“And that’s five, Lenochka.” I lift my hand and crook my finger, beckoning them closer. “Now,” I add quietly, “come here.”