How am I supposed to show up at work after last night? How can I just carry on as if nothing happened? Bring him his aromatic coffee, hand over documents, or even manage a simple hello? It’s an absolute nightmare! Pure madness!
I let out a heavy sigh and step into the reception area, where I’ve been working for over a year, greeting him with a smile every morning.
But after what went down on Sunday evening, I doubt I’ll even be able to look in his direction. I’m mortified. I’ve never found myself in a mess like this before.
“Good morning,” I hear his deep voice, the one that always makes my heart skip a beat.
I lift my green eyes to meet his. My unpainted lashes flutter, I bite my pale lip nervously, and I forget to breathe. My cheeks flush with a treacherous red, and inside, a storm of anxiety rages. Every part of me tenses with fear.
And him? I can’t read him. Something unapproachable dances across his handsome face. He looks at me, his gaze cold and piercing. Those gray eyes of his seem to hold a flicker of desire…
Could it be that he actually liked my drunken stunt last night? No! That’s impossible. Yesterday, he was furious. Absolutely livid. Sparks practically flew from him. And yet, his lips… they were so soft…
“Good morning,” I manage to say, swallowing hard, my voice trembling with embarrassment.
The man with the steely eyes crosses his arms over his broad chest. He does it sternly, yet somehow seductively. I know this gesture. It’s a sign of his displeasure, and it never means anything good.
“Yana, why are you late today?” His question cuts through me like a knife, piercing my already rattled nerves.
I stay silent. I lower my gaze, staring at his expensive black shoes, racking my brain for an answer. But what could I possibly say? Doesn’t he already know?
“It’s already ten in the morning. You were supposed to be here at nine. What kept you from showing up on time?”
He’s torturing me with these questions. He knows everything without me saying a word. But he wants to hear it from me. Why? Does he want me to break down in tears? To feel even more humiliated? He’s toying with me…
“Yana!” His sharp tone slices through the bright, sunlit reception area where we stand alone.
I stubbornly refuse to speak. Hot tears well up in my eyes. They spill over instantly, streaming down my cheeks and dripping onto the floor. It feels as though each tear lands with a deafening clang, like someone striking a bell.
“And why are you crying?” He steps closer, his warm fingers lifting my chin. He peers into my frightened eyes.
A jolt runs through my body. My heart feels like it’s about to burst from my chest. He’s so close, and he’s touching me. I feel him again. It’s overwhelming. I ache to kiss him, but enough! I made a mess of things last night, and now I’m left with a tangled bouquet of emotions…
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, yester—”
“I’m asking why you’re late,” he interrupts, his gray eyes still driving me to the edge of sanity.
“But…”
“Why are you late?” He tilts my face up further, bringing our lips just inches apart. The distance between us is dangerously small. Could it happen again?
“I overslept,” I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind, though it’s a blatant lie. I spent an hour standing outside the office, unable to go in. I wavered like a blade of wheat in a storm, wringing my hands, staring at his sleek car, not knowing what to do.
“It happens,” my boss says quietly. “But make sure it doesn’t happen again—set two alarms, or I’ll resort to a different method, one you won’t like.”
“What method?” I ask, startled, as tears continue to roll down my flushed cheeks.
“I’ll personally call you at six in the morning,” he replies with a smirk. “I’m sure you’ll never be late after that.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“It’s fine,” he says, releasing me and stepping back abruptly. I no longer smell his cologne, but my heart still races wildly.
“Yana, wipe your tears, sit down, and get to work. Bring me my coffee in ten minutes,” he orders, before his figure in the black suit disappears behind the door. I stand there, utterly confused, barely breathing.
He hasn’t forgotten. He remembers. I can see it in his eyes. Shame weighs heavy on my blonde head.
I wipe away the tears, those traitorous salty drops that spilled out in front of Arsen… No. In front of Mr. Arsen Victorovich. That’s who he is to me. My strict boss.
I sit at my desk, still feeling the warmth of his touch on my chin. He’s never touched me before. Well, except for that one time, about six months ago. His strong fingers grabbed my wrist, stopping me from stepping into a crosswalk where a yellow sports car was speeding toward me. He saved my life.
A faint smile crosses my face at the memory. Back then, I felt like a princess rescued by her prince. And now? Who am I?
I’m ashamed. I think back to that club, a few glasses of wine, a silly game with my friends, and then my ridiculous dare… A kiss.
I shudder. Those few seconds were unreal. I never imagined I’d feel his soft lips, the ones that always drew me in. I remember the first time I saw them. It was about a year ago. I had just graduated from college and started job hunting. Thanks to a friend of my mom’s, who still works here as an economist, I landed an interview at this company, and they hired me.
There were plenty of qualified candidates for the assistant position before me, but each one left Arsen Yarov’s office with a sour expression. I was terrified, my knees shaking as my mind conjured up images of some monstrous figure waiting behind that door…
But when I first saw him, my breath caught in my throat. Tall, broad-shouldered, with light brown hair, gray eyes, and chiseled features… He was every girl’s dream.
He stood by the window in a black suit, hands in his pockets, staring at me with a cold gaze. But instead of freezing me, that look ignited something inside me. A wildfire.
How could it not? It’s the classic cliché—an employee falling for her boss. And yet, that’s exactly what happened to me.
Of course, I didn’t think they’d hire me for the role, but when they called the next day to say I’d be working at “Vögelchen,” a company specializing in aircraft engine manufacturing, I nearly jumped for joy.
But enough reminiscing about the past. Right now, I might have problems with my future. How can I stand near him without falling apart?
“Yana,” the door suddenly swings open. I see Arsen… I blink. My heart stops.
“Did you fall asleep? The coffee? I’m waiting.”
“Right away, just a minute,” I snap out of it, my heart still pounding.
“I’m waiting,” his stern gaze sweeps over me before he disappears again.
I quickly get to my feet and head to make the coffee. Moments later, I’m carrying a tray with it.
Before entering his office, I take a deep breath. Then I step inside.
Mr. Arsen Victorovich is seated at his desk. His gray eyes are closed, but when he hears me, they open. They look right through me, which is oddly comforting.
I move forward into the office. I can distinctly smell his alluring cologne, mingled with a hint of lavender. I turn my head. On a glass table in front of a red leather couch, there’s an aroma lamp emitting that intoxicating scent.
I set the tray with the freshly brewed coffee down. The hand that held my chin earlier reaches for the small cup. Soon, his full lips press against the white porcelain.
I stand there, waiting for instructions, but instead, I catch his irritation.
“You’re not yourself today,” he says, setting the cup back down. “First, you’re late for no apparent reason, then you burst into tears, and now you’ve forgotten the cinnamon… What’s next? Will I not see the report by the end of the day?”
“I remember it,” I reply. “It’ll be on your desk by tonight. Half of it is already done.”
“I hope so,” he leans back in his chair, his tone demanding as he continues. “Go.”
My fingers, adorned with light pink polish, reach for the tray, but his hand waves me away.
“Leave it. I’ll drink it as is.”
I don’t respond. I silently leave his office. My legs feel like jelly, and my cheeks are burning. Memories of last night keep resurfacing, driving me to distraction, while he just looks at me calmly and talks about work.
I sit back at my desk. I nod to myself. I need to push aside my emotions and focus intensely on work. I fibbed a little about the report—I haven’t even started it. I planned to work on it yesterday, but a call from a friend changed everything.
So, I dive into my tasks. I have to finish by six this evening because if I don’t get it done on time… I don’t even want to think about it, but I definitely don’t want to upset my boss any further.