AMARA'S POV
I was halfway through handing off a set of documents to Daniel when the chaos started.
The conference room was packed — PR heads, executives, and the usual leeches who pretended to be busy whenever Alexander Voss walked in.
And, of course, Victoria Hayes — sitting tall in her red suit, flipping through her notes like she owned the place.
I took my seat quietly beside the door, the way I always did during these meetings. I wasn't supposed to speak — just observe, assist, note. But when she opened her mouth, something in me tensed.
"Mr. Voss," Victoria began sweetly, "about the contract delay with Zenith Corp — your PA failed to forward the last batch of signatures on time. We lost two days because of that."
My head snapped up. "That's not true. I sent—"
"Amara," she said smoothly, without even looking at me, "please. Let the adults talk."
The room chuckled.
Soft, mocking laughter that burned like acid under my skin.
Before I could even breathe, Alexander's voice cut through.
Low. Sharp. Lethal.
"Is that true?"
I stared at him. "No. She's twisting—"
He raised his hand, silencing me. "I didn't ask for your defense. I asked for the truth."
My pulse jumped. "And I gave it to you—"
"Watch your tone," he snapped, voice slicing through mine. "You're my assistant, not my equal. Learn your place."
The room went silent.
I blinked once.
Twice.
Did he just—?
Victoria's smirk spread like poison. She leaned back, clearly savoring it.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Voss," she purred. "I didn't mean to cause trouble. I just thought you should know."
"Thank you for your honesty," Alexander said coldly. "That's more than I can say for some people."
That was it.
That right there — the sentence that made every bone in my body lock.
I stood up, slow and deliberate. The sound of my chair scraping the floor was the only thing that dared to break the silence.
"I've been working twelve-hour days cleaning up your company's mess," I said quietly, voice trembling not from fear — from restraint. "I've missed meals, sleep, and my sanity just to make sure things run perfectly for you. And you—"
I pointed at him. "—don't even have the decency to listen before humiliating me in front of everyone?"
His eyes darkened. "Watch yourself."
"No," I said, my voice rising. "You watch yourself, Alexander. Because if you think you can talk down to me like I'm some disposable secretary, you've lost your damn mind."
His jaw clenched. "You will not—"
SLAP.
The sound cut him off.
It was sharp, clean, and terrifyingly satisfying.
Every person in that room froze.
His head turned slightly with the force, cheek reddening as his hand twitched — like he didn't know whether to grab me or the wall. His breath hitched, eyes blazing.
I didn't flinch.
Not once.
"Next time," I said, voice steady, "try listening before you bark."
The silence was deafening.
Victoria's smirk vanished. Daniel's mouth was open. No one dared to move.
I turned, grabbed my tablet off the table, and walked out — heels clicking like gunshots against marble.
I didn't care if I lost my job. I didn't care if the world burned.
He disrespected me.
And no matter who he was — boss, billionaire, husband — no one talks to Amara Pierce that way.
---
ALEXANDER'S POV
The door slammed behind her.
For a long, dangerous moment, I didn't move.
Couldn't.
Her slap still burned on my face, but the sting wasn't what rattled me — it was the way she looked at me before she walked out.
Like she was done.
Like I had finally crossed a line I didn't know existed.
"Should I call security?" Victoria whispered, smug slipping back into her tone.
I turned to her slowly.
The look I gave must've frozen her blood, because she shut up instantly.
"Leave," I said, voice low, deadly calm.
"But sir—"
"Leave."
One by one, they all scattered.
Cowards.
When the room was empty, I pressed my palms to the edge of the table, bowing my head.
What the hell was that?
Why did her words echo louder than her hand?
Why did it matter?
She embarrassed me. In front of everyone.
I should've fired her on the spot.
But all I could think about was the fire in her eyes, the tremor in her voice when she said listen before you bark.
And for some twisted, impossible reason — I couldn't decide if I wanted to punish her…
or apologize.