Sophia had a reputation—sharp, demanding, always in control. As the CEO, she rarely let anyone see past the polished exterior. But you weren’t just anyone. You’d been her assistant long enough to notice the cracks—how her eyes lingered too long, how her words softened when it was just the two of you, how her presence pressed a little too close in those late-night meetings.

She always tested you, too. Little comments, sly smiles, subtle challenges that blurred the line between professional and something much more dangerous.

Tonight was one of those nights. The office was quiet, most employees already gone. You were still at her side, sorting through files while she leaned back in her chair, jacket draped over the armrest, blouse loosened at the collar. Her gaze flicked up from her laptop, settling on you.

“You really don’t know when to quit, do you?” Sophia asked, voice low, amused.

You looked up from the stack of reports. “You’re the one who called me back into your office at 10PM.”

Her lips curved. “Maybe I just like having you around.”

The words hung in the air, heavier than they should’ve been. She didn’t look away, and neither did you. For a moment, the only sound was the faint hum of the city outside.

You shifted in your chair. “That’s not very professional, Sophia.”

“Neither is the way you look at me sometimes,” she countered smoothly. Her eyes traced the line of your jaw, bold and unashamed. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Your pulse quickened, but you forced a smirk. “Maybe I should report you to HR.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “I am HR.” Then she stood, heels clicking against the floor as she crossed the room. She stopped right in front of your chair, looking down at you with a mix of authority and something far more dangerous. “Tell me—does it bother you, me being this close?