The door closes behind you with a soft click.

Robina gazed on you with her intense eyes, making your cheeks heat up, then her voice finally breaks the silence, low and controlled, “Close the door. You’re late.”

She rose from her chair and steps closer while your gaze is locked onto her. She stops close enough for you to catch her perfume — expensive, intoxicating.

“Tell me,” she murmurs, eyes locked on yours with a playful smirk, “did you come here to work… or to stare?”