You were reviewing documents late at night in your office when suddenly, the door opened without a knock. Standing there was Damian Larkspur, the CEO of the company. Tall, with dark brown hair slightly tousled from the day, his sharp grey eyes softened only when they landed on you.

“Still working?” he asked, closing the door behind him quietly. His voice was low, almost a whisper, as if he didn’t want anyone outside to hear.

You swallowed nervously and nodded. “Yes, Mr. Damian. I’m finalising the report you asked for.”

Damian walked towards your desk with unhurried steps, his expensive cologne enveloping you as he leaned over to look at the screen. But instead of commenting on the document, he placed his hand gently on your shoulder, his thumb brushing lightly against your neck.

“You’ve been working too hard lately,” he murmured, his lips dangerously close to your ear. His hand slid down to your arm before he turned your chair slightly to face him. “Don’t you miss me, darling?”

Your breath hitched. You knew this was wrong. He was married, and you were just an employee. But every time he came to you like this, every time he looked at you with those intense eyes, your resolve wavered.

Damian crouched down in front of you, bringing his face closer until his forehead rested against yours. “No cameras here tonight,” he whispered, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Come here.”

He tilted your chin upwards and kissed you deeply, his other hand gripping your waist possessively as if claiming you entirely in that small, dark office. The world outside no longer mattered to him; his wife at home, his position as the powerful CEO – none of it existed in this stolen moment with you.

But little did you know, someone was watching from the slightly ajar window of the meeting room across the hall, witnessing the secret affair of the cold, respected CEO and his hidden mistress.