Adrian Halloway didn't stop watching me.
I noticed it the way you notice a hand resting too long on the back of your neck, it was stolen glances at first, then it became kinda intense. It was weird at first until I got used to it.
My desk sat outside the front of his office, kept in a way that I could hear him without being seen, at least. That's what I assumed when I was assigned the spot. His space was framed with glass walls, so sleek and modern, the designer really did a good job, cause I found it intimidating to clients and a reminder to employees who power belonged to.
I could see his shadow even before I saw him. My fingers moved faster, clicking through calendar tabs and emails. I had taken pains reorganising for the third time that morning.
So Zurich moved forward. New York plans got pushed back. A board meeting canceled, and another replacing it. The normal lifestyle of a man whose time was worth more than most people's lives.
I didn't have to be told twice that perfection was expected. Silence too. What I didn't expect was the weight of his attention. I didn't turn around though. I didn't act like I was aware he was staring. I had learned long ago that noticing men like Adrian Halloway only gave them greenlight.
"You type quietly," he said.
I almost jumped out of my skin. The sound of his voice was closer than it should have been. I stopped typing for half a second then picked up pace again.
"I didn't realize that was a problem," I replied, eyes fixed on the screen.
"It isn't," he said. "Most people announce themselves without realizing it."
That made me slow my pace. I turned my chair slightly, just enough to look at him.
He leaned against the doorframe of his office, his jacket hanging somewhere behind him, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms like he'd forgotten where he was, or the rules.
I tried reading his expression but I failed. His jaw was sharp. Controlled, but his eyes were not. They weren't on my face. They were on my hands. Of all places, I was being assessed thoroughly, not even politely or in a casual way.
"Is there something you need, sir?" I asked, forcing my calm and professional voice.
His gaze lifted slowly. Like he wanted me to feel the path it took. "Yes," he said. "I need to know why you're limping."
The question caught me off guard. I hadn't realized it was noticeable. "I'm not," I said quickly.
"You are," he replied, his voice firm.
I swallowed. "It's nothing."
"Sit," he said, the single word carrying weight, authority.
I hesitated, and regretted instantly, because tell me why his lips curved, kind of a smirk, and it made me uncomfortable. He liked it when people resisted him, because it gave him a reason to take control.
"That wasn't a request Mara."
My name sounded different coming from him, like he was tasting it.
I shouldn't have, but I sat. He closed the gap between us the moment I sat. In just three steps. Too close.
He knelt down, locking eyes with me before I could process what was happening. God, his scent filled my senses. It was clean, expensive, and a little bit masculine.
I leaned back on impulse, gripping the edge of the desk. "What are you doing?" I whispered.
"Deciding," he said calmly, "whether you're lying to me again."
Again. The word lodged in my chest, when was the first?
His hand held my ankle. Firmly but careful, like he was holding an egg.
I sucked in a sharp breath. "Sir…"
"You flinched," he said quietly. "Before I touched you."
My heart pounded loudly. "I don't like being surprised," I said, trying to sound calmer.
"Neither do I." His thumb pressed lightly into the side of my ankle. I should have used ice on it earlier on. Cause now the pain was wild, quick and undeniable. I gasped.
His expression changed. Focused on me. "You're injured," he said. "Why didn't you say anything?"
The question wasn't cruel or a mockery. That somehow made it worse.
Because weakness invites questions. "I didn't think it mattered," I said instead.
His jaw tightened. "It matters to me."
The words hit heavier than they should have. He stood, eyes never leaving my face. For a moment, neither of us spoke. The air felt charged, filled with something unsaid and dangerous.
"You'll see the company doctor," he said finally. "Today."
"I really don't need…" I countered.
"I wasn't asking." There it was. Control, authority worn like a second skin.
He turned his back, dismissing the conversation. "And Mara?"
What again…"Yes?" I said.
"You're not invisible here." The words followed him into his office, echoing long after the glass door slid shut.
I sighed in relief and stared down at my hands, my palms were damp, and my heart racing.
Because he was wrong. I had spent years perfecting invisibility; learning how to survive without being remembered.
And Adrian Halloway had just looked straight through every defense I'd built.
My body knew before my mind did. That this was only the beginning, and it was already preparing for the hit.