"Did you see her earlier?" Charlotte's voice cut through the quiet hum of the pantry as she stirred her coffee slowly. "The things Missy was wearing… that dress, those shoes… all of it. Was it really her boss who gave them to her?"
They were gathered casually—Olivia, Emily, and Daniel—taking their lunch break like any other day.
But the air… wasn't light.
"I'm sure she sold herself," Olivia muttered, her tone sharp, laced with irritation.
Charlotte let out a small breath, glancing at her. "I don't know… but seeing what he gives his employee—don't you think that's a bit excessive? I mean… those shoes Missy wore… weren't they the latest edition you wanted?"
A pause.
Just enough to sting.
"They cost almost half of my share."
"Shut up, Charlotte."
Olivia's voice dropped low. Dangerous.
Daniel leaned back slightly, folding his arms. "She's not wrong. Even if we split that money evenly, we still wouldn't be able to afford everything she's wearing."
Olivia's eyes snapped toward him. "What exactly are you implying?"
"Well…" Daniel shrugged lazily. "If I worked for that man instead, maybe I'd earn more. Even the 'bonus' we got doesn't come close to the bag and shoes she's wearing now."
"Shut up. What do you mean, idiot?"
Olivia's gaze flicked instinctively to the glass walls surrounding the pantry.
Transparent.
Exposed.
"Don't talk about that 'forbidden bonus' again. Ever." She hissed. "Remember why you were able to replace your car in the first place."
Daniel scoffed under his breath. "Then why didn't we divide it equally?"
"I told you to shut up."
Her patience snapped—barely held together.
"You and Charlotte are new. What did you expect? Be grateful you even got a share," she added, her voice lowered… but not enough.
"Are you done gossiping?"
The door slid open.
Thomas entered first, followed by Ethan.
And just like that… the atmosphere shifted.
Cold.
Tight.
"From outside, anyone can see your gestures through the glass," Thomas said firmly, his gaze sweeping across them. "If you're finished, go back to your desks."
No one argued.
Charlotte, Daniel, and Emily left almost immediately.
Leaving only three.
Olivia.
Ethan.
Thomas.
And something unspoken hanging between them.
"Tonight, your apartment," said Thomas to Olivia.
Olivia scoffed. "Just bring your share directly. Don't keep making it my problem."
"I can't take that home," Thomas replied.
"Then hide it somewhere. Or give it to Ethan's place. I don't care."
Ethan let out a quiet breath.
"We have the money," Olivia muttered, "but we can't even use it yet without raising suspicion. Damn it."
"That's exactly why you need to stay calm," Ethan said. "We agreed on this."
"It's already over," Olivia shot back. "What are we still afraid of?"
Ethan's gaze lowered slightly. "We're not safe just because it's quiet."
A pause.
"I know it bothers you," he added, quieter now. "Seeing Missy like that."
Olivia bit down on her nail.
"That girl…" she muttered. "She's always been irritating. Tomorrow, I'll see for myself just how impressive that boss of hers really is."
"I'm coming," Ethan said.
Olivia smirked faintly. "Of course you are."
As planned, that night they went to Olivia's apartment.
Thomas, who had already taken his share, left not long after—his steps hurried, his shoulders tense, as if the walls themselves might start talking if he stayed too long.
Leaving only the two of them.
Ethan and Olivia.
"Still feeling annoyed?" Olivia asked lightly, handing him a glass of wine before sitting close beside him.
Too close.
Her perfume lingered—sweet, heavy, familiar.
"You're thinking about that stupid girl again, aren't you?" she added, a teasing smile tugging at her lips as her fingers slowly traced his chest.
Ethan didn't answer immediately.
He took a sip instead.
Letting the silence stretch… just a little too long.
"Wondering if she really sleeps with her boss?" Olivia continued, her voice lowering, turning softer—more dangerous. "Maybe tonight she's already in his bed… calling his name—"
"Olivia, stop."
His voice came out rough.
Not loud.
But strained.
He finished the wine in one go, placing the empty glass down a little harder than necessary.
Olivia watched him.
Then, slowly… she stood.
Without breaking eye contact, she let the thin robe slide off her shoulders—revealing the satin fabric clinging to her body beneath.
Smooth.
Intentional.
Calculated.
She moved back toward him, straddling his lap with ease, her hands finding his shoulders as if they had done this a hundred times before.
Because they had.
"Stay tonight," she whispered, her lips already brushing against his.
And then she kissed him.
Slow at first.
Then deeper.
Demanding.
Ethan didn't resist.
Not immediately.
His hands moved by instinct, pulling her closer as the kiss grew heavier—messier—until his breath began to mix with hers.
Familiar.
Too familiar.
But something… wasn't the same.
"You couldn't do this to her, could you?" Olivia murmured between kisses, her breath uneven but her words sharp. "That innocent little girl… hm? I still remember how you failed to even touch her…"
That did it.
Ethan stilled.
Just for a second.
But enough.
His hands stopped moving.
His lips pulled away.
A fracture.
Small—but real.
Olivia frowned slightly. "Why did you stop?"
Ethan exhaled, running a hand through his hair as if trying to clear something that refused to leave his mind.
"I'm going home."
The words fell flat.
Final.
Olivia blinked—once.
Then laughed, disbelieving. "You're joking."
"No."
And just like that, the air changed.
Sharply.
Olivia pushed him back onto the sofa, climbing over him again—this time with less grace, more force.
"I don't care who you're thinking about," she snapped, her pride starting to crack. "But you're not leaving tonight."
Her fingers moved quickly, impatient, undoing his belt.
"Olivia—"
He caught her wrist.
Firm.
Not rough.
But unyielding.
"We're sex partners. We've always been. We've never refused each other!" she shot back, her eyes burning now. "If you want to change your mind, do it tomorrow. Not tonight."
There it was.
Not desire anymore.
But ego.
Control.
Ethan looked at her for a long second.
Then… gently but decisively, he removed her hand.
"Stop. Find someone else. Seriously."
It hit harder than any shout.
Olivia froze.
For a heartbeat… two…
Then she stepped back, anger rushing in to replace the shock.
"Are you serious?" she snapped, her hands landing on her hips. "You treat me like this? After everything?"
Ethan didn't answer.
He fixed his belt.
Picked up his jacket.
Too calm.
And that only made it worse.
"Is this because of her?" Olivia's voice rose, sharp and accusing. "You're thinking about Missy now? After taking that money?!"
Ethan paused.
"Damn it, Ethan!"
"Too late, you know!" she continued, almost shouting now. "Everything is already too late! That stupid girl is probably in bed with her boss right now—"
"Stop! Missy is not like that!"
This time—Ethan's voice cut through her words.
Louder.
Stronger.
Unfamiliar.
Olivia stared at him.
Really looked at him.
And something in her expression shifted.
"You… really love her?" she asked quietly.
Ethan didn't answer.
But he didn't deny it either.
And that was enough.
He grabbed his bag—the one filled with stacks of money—and walked past her.
"You're an idiot!" Olivia shouted after him, her voice breaking between anger and something else she refused to name. "You don't love her! You're just hurt because she found someone better than you!"
The door slammed.
Hard.
Leaving the echo hanging in the room.
Olivia stood there, breathing unevenly, her chest rising and falling as frustration burned through her.
"Damn it…" she muttered.
Her hand reached for the empty glass—
and threw it onto the table with a sharp clatter.
"That damn girl…"
Her eyes darkened.
"Just wait and see what I'll do to you, Missy."
***