The office was nearly empty by 8:30 PM.
Aria Sarmiento rubbed her eyes and adjusted the stack of reports on her desk. She had been typing for hours, her fingers stiff from scrolling and filing, but the project Lucien assigned required absolute perfection. She glanced at the clock again. Everyone else had gone home, leaving only the cleaning staff buzzing quietly in the background.
A soft knock on her office door made her jump.
"Come in," she said, trying to hide her nerves.
Lucien's shadow filled the doorway before he even spoke. "You're still here," he said, voice low, almost a growl.
"Yes, sir," she replied, standing immediately. Her heart was racing; she wasn't used to being alone with him like this.
He didn't smile. He never did, not in the way that made anyone feel welcome. But tonight, there was something different something she couldn't name. His gray eyes lingered on her a fraction longer than necessary.
"I need these reports ready by midnight," he said, tossing a thick folder onto her desk. The weight of it made her flinch. "And I don't want excuses."
"Yes, sir," she whispered, flipping open the folder.
Lucien stepped closer, and she felt the sudden heat of his presence. Her pulse spiked. He leaned against the corner of her desk, casually yet intentionally close. She caught a faint scent cologne, but dark, smoky, intoxicating.
"You work too slowly," he said softly, almost conversationally. "Don't let the fear of making mistakes freeze you. Focus."
Aria swallowed hard. She couldn't tell if his words were meant to motivate her or to tease her. She tried to concentrate, typing furiously, but she felt his gaze lingering on her, every movement analyzed.
At one point, her pen rolled off the desk. When she bent down to pick it up, Lucien's hand hovered just inches from hers.
"Careful," he murmured, his voice low enough that she barely heard it. "Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."
Her cheeks flamed. She jerked back, fumbling with the pen, but it was too late her heart had betrayed her, racing wildly.
For the next hour, they worked in tense silence, the only sounds the click of keys, the shuffle of papers, and the occasional distant hum of the cleaning staff. Every glance, every accidental brush of their hands sent shivers down her spine. Aria felt herself drawn to him in a way she shouldn't.
Finally, Lucien straightened and leaned back, running a hand through his hair. "Not bad," he said, almost imperceptibly. "You might survive working here."
Aria's heart skipped. "Thank you, sir," she whispered, though she didn't know if she meant it for the compliment or for simply surviving the moment.
He studied her again, gray eyes calculating, then nodded once. "Go home. Finish tomorrow. Don't make me regret staying late."
Aria gathered her things, but as she walked out, she felt his gaze burn into her back. Every step down the hallway made her aware of him in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying.
By the time she reached the elevator, she whispered to herself:
What am I doing? He's dangerous. And yet… I can't stop thinking about him.