Chapter 5: The Accidental Touch
The morning light poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Lafayette Inc., painting the 23rd floor in a golden glow. Emerson Lane sat at his desk, coffee untouched, staring at the spreadsheet in front of him. Not that he was actually reading it. Every sound, every movement in the office pulled his attention away from numbers and graphs, and his focus kept drifting toward the glass-walled office of Lafayette Jeff.
The man was already there, seated behind his massive mahogany desk, reviewing papers with a meticulousness that bordered on obsession. His tie was perfectly aligned, his cufflinks catching the sunlight in a way that made Em's stomach tighten unexpectedly. He was oblivious—or at least appeared to be—to the world outside his office, and yet he had this way of making the entire room feel like it revolved around him.
Em tried to shake it off. Focus. Just a job. Just a job…
But Lafayette had a way of ignoring that mantra entirely.
By mid-morning, Em was shuffling through stacks of documents, preparing a summary of financial projections for an upcoming board meeting. Lafayette had been in and out of the office all morning, occasionally leaning over Em's shoulder to give feedback. Each time, the brush of their arms or the proximity of his body sent a jolt straight to Em's chest, a heat that made his palms sweat despite the cool air conditioning.
"Emerson," Lafayette said suddenly, appearing at his side without warning, "you're mixing figures from two different quarters here. See this?"
Em leaned closer, pointing at the discrepancy. Their shoulders brushed. The contact was light, almost accidental—but it was enough. Enough to make Em's pulse spike, his mind scramble, and his breath hitch in a way that made him immediately aware of Lafayette's presence in an entirely new way.
"I… I see it," Em stammered, trying to keep his voice steady. He wasn't sure if he was more conscious of the spreadsheet or the heat radiating from the man beside him.
"Good," Lafayette murmured, stepping back—but only slightly. The faintest hint of a smirk tugged at his lips, one that made Em's stomach do an unpredictable flip. "Precision matters, Emerson. Always."
Em nodded, though he wasn't sure if he was absorbing the advice or the lingering warmth of Lafayette's hand where it had brushed against his own.
The day passed in a blur of tasks, phone calls, and minor crises, each moment punctuated by small, almost imperceptible touches—an accidental brush of a hand while passing a stack of papers, the close proximity while reviewing a document, the way Lafayette's gaze seemed to linger a moment too long.
By mid-afternoon, Em was exhausted in a new way. His body was tense, every nerve ending hyper-aware of Lafayette's presence. He tried to focus on the spreadsheets, but his mind kept replaying the subtle touches, the way Lafayette's scent seemed to follow him, the quiet intensity of the man's gaze.
Then it happened.
Em was carrying a large binder toward Lafayette's office when he misjudged the step, nearly tripping over his own feet. Lafayette appeared instantly, a hand shooting out to steady him. Their fingers brushed, and this time the contact lingered longer than before.
"Oh—sorry!" Em said, stepping back, cheeks flaming.
Lafayette didn't respond immediately. Instead, his eyes locked onto Em's with an intensity that made Em's stomach clench. "Careful," he said softly, his voice low, resonant, and full of that quiet authority that made Em's knees feel weak. "You almost destroyed my reports… and possibly yourself."
Em swallowed hard. "I—thank you," he murmured, aware of the lingering warmth of Lafayette's hand against his own. He tried to focus on placing the binder on the desk, but his movements were clumsy, fumbling under the weight of both the papers and the sudden, undeniable tension that had erupted between them.
Lafayette straightened, but his gaze followed Em like a predator and prey trapped in some delicate dance. "You're learning quickly," he said finally, voice smooth but edged with something unspoken. "I'm impressed."
The words should have been simple praise, but the tone, the lingering glance, the subtle way Lafayette's presence seemed to press into Em's space—it all combined into something combustible. Em felt heat crawl up his neck, chest tight, and a fluttering in his stomach he couldn't explain.
Trying to escape the intensity, Em excused himself to fetch more documents. As he walked through the office, the whispers of colleagues reminded him again that Lafayette's reputation preceded him. The man was a puzzle, enigmatic and private, and the way he seemed to dominate every corner of the office only heightened the fascination—and the dangerous attraction—that Em felt.
Returning to Lafayette's office, Em placed the documents carefully on the desk. "Here are the projections," he said, trying to sound calm.
Lafayette's eyes flicked over the pages, then back to Em. "Good work," he said, and the words landed differently this time. Louder, heavier, charged with something Em couldn't quite name.
"Thank you, sir," Em replied, trying to sound professional. But when Lafayette leaned closer to examine a figure, their shoulders brushed again—intentionally or not, he couldn't tell. The proximity made Em hyper-aware of every detail: the faint scent of cologne, the warmth of Lafayette's body, the slight dip in his gaze that seemed to linger just on Em's lips.
For a moment, Em imagined leaning just a little closer, letting the tension pull him in. The thought made him shiver, both terrified and exhilarated.
"Emerson," Lafayette said, his voice cutting through the haze of Em's thoughts. "Do you ever… wonder about what you're capable of?"
Em blinked. "I… sometimes?" He wasn't sure if he was answering honestly or just trying to respond appropriately.
Lafayette's gaze softened fractionally, but the heat in his eyes remained. "Good. I like someone who pushes their limits. Someone willing to step into the unknown. Risk matters… in business, and sometimes… in life."
Em's heart raced. He felt like Lafayette wasn't just speaking about spreadsheets, projections, or reports. He felt like every word was layered, a message hidden beneath the professional façade.
Then Lafayette leaned back, the contact broken, and the spell of proximity shattered—but not the tension. Em realized he was trembling slightly, and for the first time, he acknowledged the truth: he was not just intrigued. He was captivated, drawn to Lafayette in a way that went beyond fascination. Lust, desire, curiosity—it all tangled together in a confusing, thrilling mess.
By the time the workday ended, Em felt drained, exhilarated, and dangerously aware of how little control he had over his own reactions. As he packed his bag, Lafayette appeared by the door, smirking.
"You survived today," Lafayette said. "Not just the work, but… the attention."
Em's stomach twisted. "I—I think so."
"Good," Lafayette said, his gaze lingering in a way that made Em's pulse quicken. "Keep learning, Emerson. And… keep yourself ready. Tomorrow will be… interesting."
As Em stepped into the elevator, the city lights stretching below, he couldn't stop thinking about the brush of hands, the way Lafayette's eyes had followed him, the tension that had ignited and refused to die down.
He realized, with equal parts fear and thrill, that he was already caught in Lafayette's orbit. The temp job that had seemed like a simple paycheck had turned into something far more dangerous, intoxicating, and irresistible.
And somewhere deep inside, Em admitted he didn't want to escape.