The late afternoon sun spilled through the floor-to-ceiling glass of my corner office, slicing the room into bands of gold and shadow. Mahogany gleamed beneath the light, immaculate and cold just like the empire I had built. Quarterly profit reports pulsed on my tablet, numbers marching upward in obedient certainty.
I ignored them.
My attention was fixed on Camera 4.
There he was.
Manu.
To most, he was invisible, a man in a cheap clothing, punctual to the minute, efficient to the point of anonymity. A name on payroll. A body in a chair. Someone who arrived at nine and dissolved into the evening crowd at five.
But I had been watching him.
While others stiffened under my gaze or performed desperation in tailored suits, Manu remained untouched. His face carried a strange stillness, serene and distant.
He never checked the time. Never reached for his phone. Never looked here.
It unsettled me.
It infuriated me.
I owned this building. This firm. Every square foot of power stacked beneath my heels. And yet, I wanted him present. I wanted his attention on me, and me alone.
My finger pressed the intercom.
"Manu," I said, my voice smooth, precise, inescapable. "Come to my office. Immediately."
---
Two minutes later, a soft knock announced his arrival.
He stepped inside with unhurried ease, posture relaxed, eyes clear yet unfocused as though the material world was merely passing through him, not the other way around.
I rose.
The sharp click of my heels echoed against the marble as I circled him slowly, deliberately. The air filled with expensive perfume, designed to command attention, to unsettle, to dominate.
He didn't react.
He breathed as though the air belonged to him.
"You're very efficient, Manu." I said softly, stopping inches from him. Heat radiated from his body real, grounded, steady. I reached out, a manicured finger tracing the clean line of his jaw. "But you're also very… distant."
Most men would be shaking right now. Most men would be trying to find an excuse to look down my blouse. Most would have tried to prove something.
"You're not even nervous," I continued, leaning closer. "Your heart rate hasn't changed."
My lips hovered near his ear.
"So tell me," I whispered, "where is your mind?"
A surge of possessive heat rose within me. I owned this building. I owned this firm. And soon, I would own every single thought that dared to occupy his mind. If there was someone else in there, some memory, some ghost...I would find it and burn it out until only Smriti remained.
"Look at me," I commanded, my voice lowering, tightening. "I am your CEO. I control your career. Your future."
My hand closed around his tie, pulling him just enough to force his gaze into mine.
"And yet," I said quietly, searching his eyes for fear or hunger, "you won't let me in."