Velvet Corporation
The air in *Velvet Corporation's* 4th-floor administrative department was thick with cheap perfume, recycled gossip, and silent war.
Saphina walked in calmly, file in hand, heels clicking like a warning bell. Her mission was simple: get the Zezit Enterprise documents from Felicity—the queen of side-eyes and high-pitched fake laughs.
She stopped at the desk and said politely, "Miss Felicity, I'd like to have the Zezit Enterprise requirement documents, please."
Felicity, who was powdering her nose with enough makeup to qualify for battle armor, turned slowly. Her expression was sour—like someone had just dropped a slice of lemon into her morning coffee.
"Well, well," she sneered, loud enough for the whole office to hear. "Look who decided to show up… Miss 'I-opened-my-legs-for-a-promotion.' Just because your office is next to Mr. Moretti's doesn't mean you're important, sweetheart."
Saphina's spine straightened. She wasn't expecting kindness, but this?
"I beg your pardon?" she asked.
Felicity scoffed. "You heard me. I've worked here for *years*—long before you even finished school. So kindly show some *respect*, and address me as *ma'am* or *madam*."
There was a loud *mmm-hmm* from one of the desks.
Saphina looked around at the other women, many already chuckling. One leaned in and added smugly, "She means, say *thank you* to your head game and all those late-night 'meetings.'"
Laughter erupted like a spark in gasoline.
Saphina inhaled slowly, clenching her teeth. *Okay. Enough playing nice.*
She stepped forward with calm authority. "Miss Felicity," she said slowly, "I don't care if you were pushing paper here before I could spell 'degree.' What I do care about is the fact that I'm up there… while you're still parked here with your fake designer bag and your 3-year-old phone case."
The room *gasped*. Phones paused mid-scroll. Lips parted in horror.
She smiled slightly. "Also, I have no issue calling you *ma'am*... because you might just end up being *Madam No Promotion* for the rest of your working years. Now—can I *please* have the documents?"
Felicity's fake lashes fluttered in rage. "You little bi—"
She shot up and raised her hand to slap Saphina across the face.
*Too slow.*
Saphina caught her wrist mid-air like she had rehearsed it in her sleep. "Try that again," she said coolly, "and I'll make sure the only thing you'll be lifting here is boxes on your way out."
Felicity stammered, "You—!"
"ENOUGH!"
A loud male voice thundered through the room like a whip. Everyone froze.
At the entrance stood *Caleb*, arms folded, face like thunder in a tailored suit. His jaw was tight, his brows pulled low in irritation.
He walked in slowly, the weight of his authority silencing even the office gossips.
"Miss Felicity," he said, standing beside Saphina, "the documents. Now."
Felicity handed over the file with a hand that trembled slightly.
Caleb took it and turned to Saphina. "Here you go, Miss Hadley. You're dismissed."
"Thank you, Mr. Black," she replied sharply and turned on her heel.
The moment she left, the room exploded in whispers and murmurs.
Meanwhile, in the elevator, Saphina leaned back against the mirrored wall, lips pressed together in a straight line.
*That's it. No more smiling at snakes.*
"An eye for an eye… a tooth for a tooth," she muttered.
And from now on, if they wanted to play dirty?
She'd show them how the queen plays.
---
Saphina shut the office door behind her with more force than necessary, tossed her folder on the table, and flopped into her chair with a sigh.
"Why the hell do they all think I slept with Tristan?" she muttered under her breath, tugging her heels off. "Like, do I look that well-fed? Or that exhausted?"
She slumped forward on her desk, burying her face in her arms. Just then, as if the universe had a cruel sense of timing, his name popped into her head.
*Tristan.*
Her lips curved slightly despite herself, and before she could stop it, her mind played the scene she had replayed a dozen times already.
*—Flashback—*
"I just want to apologize," he said, his voice low and strangely gentle. "For how I've been treating you lately. I don't really have a reason for it. So… yeah. I'm sorry for being rude."
Saphina blinked, stunned. Did the Tristan Moretti just say *sorry*? Was this a setup? Was she being pranked?
"It's okay, sir. I forgive you," she said carefully.
"Tristan," he corrected.
She raised a brow. "Excuse me?"
He smirked. "It's Tristan. Not 'sir.' At least not when we're alone."
"Oh. Okay then… Tristan." She gave a shy smile, amused by how weirdly personal that felt.
There was a pause, then she tilted her head and asked, "Why are you so cold anyway? You act like emotions might kill you."
Tristan gave a small shrug. "That's just how I am, Saphina. I'm not the type to… smile and do small talk."
"Clearly," she teased.
He gave her a look. One that was unreadable, but definitely not angry.
"Hope we're cool now?" he asked.
Saphina grinned. "Yeah… as long as you don't freeze into a glacier again."
He actually chuckled.
*—Flashback Ends—*
Back in her office, Saphina smiled faintly, twirling her pen between her fingers. "So he *can* laugh… miracles still happen."
Then she remembered—Tristan wasn't at work today. He had either taken the day off… or gone for an important meeting .At this point, either option felt valid.
"Hm. No Tristan. No icy glares. No mysterious power walks down the hallway. Weirdly peaceful," she mumbled, then added with a smirk, "but kinda boring too."
She got up to grab a cup of coffee and mumbled, "First they think I slept with the boss, now I'm daydreaming about his smirk. Great. HR's going to have a field day if they ever read my brain."
As the kettle whistled, she sighed.
"Get a grip, Saphina. He's just your boss… who smells sinfully good and looks like he was carved by the gods. No big deal."
She sipped her coffee, rolled her eyes at herself, and whispered, "Yep. I'm in trouble."
---