Cindy got to work early, just as she always did. The office was still quiet, the halls empty, and the hum of the air conditioner was the only sound that greeted her. She liked arriving early—it gave her a sense of control, a few calm moments before the chaos of the day began.
She settled into her seat and immediately got to work on the pitch Adrian had assigned her. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself of the rules she had created the very first day she stepped into this building: no emotions, no mistakes. Those rules were the only reason she had survived this long.
Day after day, Cindy was becoming more efficient. She understood the company's rhythm now—what needed urgency, what could wait, and what Adrian expected before he even asked. The pitch he had handed to her was already solid, but Cindy refined it further, adjusting words, reorganizing points, and making sure every sentence carried weight. By the time she was done, the presentation felt flawless.
Later that afternoon, the clients arrived and gathered in the boardroom. Cindy stood at the head of the table, tablet in hand, her posture straight and confident. As she began the presentation, her voice was steady, clear, and professional.
Throughout the pitch, Adrian's eyes never left her.
At first, Cindy didn't notice. She was too focused on delivering her points correctly. But somewhere in the middle of the presentation, she felt it—that quiet awareness of being watched. When she briefly glanced in Adrian's direction, their eyes met. His gaze was unreadable, intense, unwavering.
Cindy ignored it.
She reminded herself that this was business. She finished strong, ending the pitch with confidence. For a brief moment, the room was silent—then applause filled the boardroom. The clients nodded in approval, visibly impressed.
Adrian and his investors moved on to discussing terms with the clients, eventually reaching a compromise. However, the deal wasn't concluded. Certain documents still needed to be reviewed and signed before the contract could be finalized.
After the clients left, Adrian asked Cindy to come to his office.
"You did well at the meeting," he said calmly. "Even though it wasn't part of your job description."
Cindy listened quietly.
"Floral messed up the last deal we had with them," Adrian continued. "That's why I chose you to handle this. You'll be rewarded once the contract is concluded."
Cindy nodded. Praise from Adrian was rare, and even when it came, it felt heavy—like something she wasn't sure she deserved.
She left his office, relieved, but only for a moment. Minutes later, Adrian called her back.
"Cross-check the contract Floral drafted," he instructed.
"Okay, sir. Would that be all?" Cindy asked.
"Yes, that will be all for now."
As she turned to leave, his voice stopped her again.
"Where are you going?"
"My office, sir."
"No. Grab a chair and cross-check the file here."
The shift was sudden. Cindy felt unsettled, but she reminded herself that Adrian was her boss. She obeyed, pulling a chair closer and opening the file.
As Cindy focused on the contract, Adrian found himself watching her. The way her brows furrowed when she concentrated. The calm confidence in her movements. It wasn't just her beauty that drew his attention—it was her discipline, her determination, her refusal to seek approval.
When Cindy spotted an error, she stood up to point it out. As she leaned closer, her foot slipped.
Before she could react, she fell straight into Adrian's arms.
Time seemed to freeze.
Their eyes locked. Cindy's heart pounded loudly in her chest. Adrian noticed how her hair had fallen across her face and, without thinking, brushed it aside. The gesture was gentle, intimate.
Cindy quickly stepped back, flustered.
"I'm so sorry, sir," she said. "I lost my balance. It won't happen again."
"It's fine, Cindy," Adrian replied. "Anyone could fall."
She nodded and returned to the contract, her hands slightly shaky. She pointed out the mistake, and Adrian corrected it immediately. Once everything was finalized, Cindy gathered the file and prepared to leave.
"Where are you going after work?" Adrian asked.
"My house, sir."
"Can I take you to dinner?" he asked. "Just dinner. Nothing more."
Cindy hesitated. This was unexpected—dangerous, even. But refusing felt impossible.
"Okay, sir," she said quietly.
At closing time, the office was empty. Cindy got ready and headed downstairs. Adrian was already waiting. His driver opened the door for her, and she stepped inside the car.
Sitting beside Adrian made her nervous. She replayed Floral's warnings in her mind, but Adrian had never behaved improperly toward her. He was strict with everyone else—cold, demanding—but different with her. Two months into the job, and she still didn't understand why.
Her focus, she reminded herself, was to work hard, get paid, and remain efficient.
They arrived at the restaurant twenty minutes later. Adrian pulled out a chair for her, a gesture that caught her off guard. They ordered and ate in relative silence. When the plates were cleared, Adrian finally spoke.
"Do you still live with your parents?" he asked. "Or with your boyfriend?"
Cindy froze.
"No, sir," she replied after a moment. "I don't live with my parents, and I don't have a boyfriend. It's just me—working and surviving."
Adrian felt a quiet satisfaction at her answer, though he said nothing. Cindy, however, remained unsettled. The question lingered in her mind, heavy and intrusive.
When she checked the time, she realized it was late.
"Sir," she said gently, "tomorrow is another workday. I should go home."
Adrian agreed. He dropped her off at her apartment and watched her disappear inside before driving away.
Cindy leaned against her door once she was inside, exhaling slowly. She couldn't explain what had shifted—but something had.
And it frightened her.