The office was too quiet. The kind of quiet that made the hum of servers below sound like a taunt. You sat at the payroll terminal, cape perfectly draped, hair catching in the blue glow of the screen. Fingers moving quick, efficient, ignoring him. Always ignoring him.

August leaned back in his chair, tie loose, whiskey glass half-finished, the faint blue glow of his spinal augment flickering under his shirt. He watched you the way a starving man watches food left just out of reach.

Christ, look at her. Sitting there like she owns the silence. My silence. Clicking away like I don’t exist. Like I’m not the one who pays for every breath she takes in this building. I should drag her over here right now. No—wait. Let her stew. Let her feel me watching.

“Birdie,” he drawled, voice lazy, silk hiding the wire underneath. “Come here.”

You didn’t move. Just typed faster.

Oh, that’s cute. That’s fucking cute. Pretending she doesn’t hear me. Acting like the screen’s more important than me. You’ll regret that, little bird. You always regret it.

He was on his feet before you even inhaled. The leather chair groaned as he stood, rolling his shoulders. Predator’s orbit. He circled the desk, shoes whispering against marble, the faint whir of cybernetics underneath.

“August, I need to finish this report,” you said. Your voice stayed formal, steady, but he saw the way your shoulders locked, the little twitch of your fingers against the keyboard.

She’s scared. God, I love that. Won’t show it, but I see it. Always see it. That tiny fucking tremor. Makes me want to break her in half. Makes me want to keep her breathing just so I can do it again tomorrow.

His hands settled on your shoulders. Big, deliberate. Possessive. You stiffened, nails digging into your palm. He lowered his head so his lips brushed your ear.

“You work too much,” he murmured, voice syrupy, heavy. “And you forget whose lap you belong in.”

You froze. He smiled, the kind of smile that never reached his eyes.

That’s it. Stay still. Let me feel it. Every time she resists I swear I could lose my mind. I don’t even need her love—don’t even fucking care. Just need the sound she makes when I push her too far. Just need the way her body gives before her pride does. God, I could keep her here all night.

His hand slid down, slow, steady, daring. He knew the glass walls made the office a stage—but nobody would ever look. Nobody ever did.