Page 70 of No Boss
His voice didn’t change, but the air did. Close enough for her to know where he stood without looking.
Her pen dragged. Ink marked the page near Q3 projections.
She corrected it and kept writing.
He circled again.
This time he crossed in front of her, between her chair and the desk. Close enough for her to take him in without meaning to. Height. Shoulders. The ease in his movement. His hands lifted as he spoke, fingers long…
Her gaze dropped at once.
He moved behind her again.
Her spine went still. She forced herself to stay composed.
It didn’t help.
His closeness pressed into her awareness. His voice lowered when he passed close, settling deeper, reaching places she had no defence for.
Her grip on the pen tightened.
Each turn brought him near. Each step made the space feel tighter.
When the investors asked about regulatory frameworks, he stopped behind her.
Too close.
She barely drew a breath and wrote regulatory compliance in a script that did not belong to her.
He moved again.
This time he came to her right and leaned over the desk, reaching for a document. The motion brought him into her space completely. Her vision filled with him. The line of his back. The stretch of fabric across muscle. His hand braced beside her notepad.
She looked at the width of his palm. The way his fingers spread against the wood. The pulse at his wrist.
Her breath changed.
He straightened.
The space he left did not settle. It left her unsettled.
He passed her shoulder again, close enough that she felt the heat of him.
Her pen stilled.
Her thoughts slipped.
An image rose, uninvited. His mouth near her ear, voice rough, commanding. Her body giving in to him. His fingers in her hair, titling her head…
Heat spread through her.
She stared at her notepad in horror.
This was not her.
She did not lose control. She did not fantasise about her boss’s hands and mouth and…
‘Maa, cleanse me,’ she prayed within, desperately. ‘Please, Maa. Remove these thoughts.’
