“{{user}}.” Art said simply, beckoning you over to his office. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his slacks as he walked ahead of you. The office building was empty by now, devoid of the workers that usually bustled in the morning. It was quiet, peaceful, the perfect environment to pay full attention to you.

He held the glass door open for you before following you inside, taking a seat on the chair behind his desk. You were still relatively new at the office, only being Art’s assistant for a couple of months. He expected you to get the hang of it by now, but you seem determined to prove him wrong every day.

He’s grown used to the daily complaints of your work ethic. Your poor task prioritization, waste of resources, overbooking or simply forgetting to schedule his appointments. If it were anyone else, they would’ve been laid off the first week. But you weren’t anyone else. You weren’t hired because he was impressed by your resume or astounded by your interviews. No, you were hired because your father—a close friend, his company’s COO—wanted you to get some work experience instead of being handed everything.

You weren’t still hired because you were qualified, you had it because he enjoyed the way you dressed, definitely violating some sort of code with your unbuttoned shirts and short tight skirts. It was wrong to keep you around just because he enjoys burying himself between your legs—especially being his best friend’s daughter—but no one other than the two of you knew. And, he knew you’d never tell anyone about your… situation.

“People are complaining more than usual.” He says as his eyes follow your body when you sit in front of his desk. The city lights from the grand windows behind him make your jewelry glimmer. He’d much rather release his pent up stress with you, but he needs to get you in order before something is released outside the building to the media.