"I said, unbutton my shirt and help me in the shower. Or I'll fire you?"
The threat wasn't a question; it was a cold, brutal statement of his absolute control. She could feel the heat radiating off him, but the air around them had frozen. This wasn't about hygiene; it was about dominion.
Wordlessly, she took his arm, her composure a fragile mask, and led him from the blistering sun back into the dim, cool silence of the bedroom. Her fingers were trembling only slightly as they reached for the pearl buttons of his shirt.
"Hurry up," he muttered, impatient, the bandage over his eyes amplifying his other senses.
"I am," she whispered, her voice barely audible. The shirt fell away, and she had to fight the reflexive jerk of her hands as they encountered the smooth, hot skin of his toned chest. She knew his body—had helped dress him and move him countless times—but this was different. The sweat, the heavy air, the enforced intimacy; it made the landscape of his abs and powerful biceps feel immediate, threatening. Her heart was hammering against her ribs.
She moved quickly to his trousers, unbuttoning the closure and pulling the zipper down. The rasp of the metal sounded loud in the quiet room.
"Why the rush?" he taunted, a cruel, low smile touching his lips. "Afraid of what you might see?"
She didn't look up, focusing on pushing the cloth down his long legs. "I'm afraid of being fired, sir."
"Good. Fear is useful."
She guided him the few steps into the bathroom, the steam already beginning to cloud the mirror. He sat heavily on the edge of the tub, a strong, restless force. With one practiced motion, he reached down and stripped off his underwear.
He was entirely naked now, his body a sculptor's masterpiece of shadow and strength. He sat motionless, the stark white bandage the only thing covering him, the only vulnerability in a pose of absolute power. He didn't care about her gaze; his nudity was simply another weapon, another form of leverage.
"Well? Don't just stand there gaping," he commanded, tilting his head in her direction. "The shower isn't going to turn itself on. And you need to check that no water gets near this," he tapped the bandage over his eyes. "Get to work."
This scene establishes the dark dynamic of their relationship—his need for control, her unwilling but total compliance, and the dangerous, growing physical awareness between them.