Chapter 2

I froze, my heart slamming against my chest, fingers still lingering under my skirt. My mind was blank, every nerve on edge.

The moment his voice cut through the silence, my body betrayed me with an involuntary shudder.

Heat surged through me, an unstoppable rush, dripping onto the floor in shameful little patters. The pleasure was hollow, aching, and I wanted to cry.

I didn't want this alone—I wanted him. Frantic, I yanked my skirt down to cover myself, but the damp traces on my fingers were a humiliating confession.

I opened my mouth to deny it, but my throat burned dry, not a single word escaping.

"My apologies for the interruption, Ms. Langley," he said, nodding slightly.

His gaze swept over my disheveled state, his tone unnervingly calm—no anger, no shock, just a chilling composure that made my shame burn deeper.

He picked up an overlooked file from the corner of my desk, turned, and walked out, his steps as steady as ever, as if nothing had happened.

When the door clicked shut, I collapsed into my chair, drained of all strength, my face flaming with heat.

God, what did he see? What did he hear? I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to calm down, but fear and humiliation coiled around me like a venomous snake.

From that day on, I treaded on eggshells. Every word, every glance felt like walking a tightrope, terrified he'd see through me again.

I couldn't even meet his eyes. Whenever he entered the office, I buried myself in work, avoiding the piercing depth of his gaze that seemed to strip away every pretense.

Until Friday night. I was alone in the office, working late on a few international merger cases. Exhaustion and frustration crashed over me like waves.

Manhattan's night skyline stared back, cold and indifferent, just like the ache gnawing at me. I poured myself a glass of whiskey, hoping to drown the fire inside, but it only fueled my unease.

Allen's presence lingered like a shadow I couldn't shake. Since that incident, he hadn't mentioned a word, acting as if nothing happened, yet every look he gave me felt like he knew far more than I could bear.

The alcohol clouded my head, and I made a fatal mistake.

I unlocked my private tablet and logged into an anonymous forum—my secret escape.

It held every twisted fantasy I'd ever had about Allen, every unspoken desire spilled out in raw, reckless words.

I started a new entry, titled "If I Completely Surrender to My Assistant's Control".

The words were explicit, degrading, stripping myself bare as I wrote how I wanted to be dominated by him, humiliated, even admitting I knew he was the CEO of Vortex Capital yet kept him close because I couldn't resist him.

Memories of past entries flooded back—late nights in the office, pinned against the desk, losing all control; his low voice commanding me, stripping away my dignity. Every line was a knife, painful yet addictive.

My fingers flew across the screen, each sentence speeding my pulse, a release and a self-destruction all at once.

Then the internal phone line shrieked, snapping me out of my haze. Security called about a glitch in the downstairs access system, needing my authorization.

I hurriedly set down my glass, slapped the tablet face-down on the desk, and left in a rush. Alcohol and exhaustion dulled my caution—I didn't even think twice about leaving it there.

Twenty minutes later, when I returned after sorting the issue, I pushed open the door and felt my blood turn to ice.

Allen was inside.

He hadn't left. He stood at my desk, a file in hand.

And my tablet, screen glaringly bright, lay right in front of him. The damning words stared back at me like a blade to the gut.

He'd seen it.

My head spun, a sick wave crashing over me. The screen wasn't just my secret—it blared his name, every line exposing my shame.

My heartbeat thundered, shame flooding me until I could barely breathe.

"Allen…" My voice shook, the authority I usually wielded crumbling, leaving me exposed.

He lifted his head slowly, his gaze shifting from the screen to my face. The professional, respectful mask he always wore was gone, replaced by something raw and predatory.

"Is this why you've been so cold to me, Ms. Langley?" His voice was low, laced with naked provocation, a sharp edge of ice beneath it. "You knew my identity, knew I'm Vortex's CEO, and still kept me around?"

I wanted to lunge for the tablet, to scream at him to get out, but my legs were jelly, rooted to the spot. Shame drowned me, stealing my breath.

"Wait, it's not… I mean…" My voice broke, my face on fire.

"Mean what?" He raised a brow, a cryptic smirk tugging at his lips. His eyes flicked back to the screen, fingers sliding lightly as if skimming deeper into my disgrace. "Interesting… not just my identity, but these other… thoughts."

His voice paused, his gaze darkening, as if uncovering something even more unspeakable.

"Ms. Langley, you actually want me to pin you against this desk? To handle you like some kind of… slave? These are quite… surprising revelations."

My face flared crimson, humiliation exploding inside me. I bit my lip, fists clenched, but nothing could dull the sting of being so utterly seen.

"Stop looking…" My plea trembled out, barely audible, my throat raw.

He didn't answer. Instead, he stepped closer, until my back hit the cold wall behind me.

The dim office light cast harsh shadows on his sharp features, the tablet's glow flickering dangerously in his eyes. The silence tightened around us like a noose, leaving me nowhere to run.

"You... you're fired," I spat weakly, tears pricking at my eyes, my voice hollow.

Allen laughed—a low, dangerous sound. He raised a hand, bracing it on the wall beside my head, caging me in his shadow. His breath was close, sending shivers through me.

"You won't fire me," he said, his voice a deep rumble, his warm breath grazing my ear, making my skin prickle. "Because you know, better than I do, that this is exactly what you want. Isn't it, Ms. Langley?"

His words shattered my defenses like lightning.

He was right. Amid the crushing shame and fear, my body betrayed me with brutal honesty. I'd craved this moment for far too long.

"Please…" My voice trembled, so faint I barely heard myself, caught between pushing him away and pulling him closer.

His fingers brushed my cheek, the touch deceptively gentle, but his tone was ironclad. "Don't move. Look at me."

I instinctively tried to turn away, but he gripped my chin, forcing my eyes to meet his. Those dark brown irises were a void, swallowing every shred of my facade.

"Starting today, we drop the act," he said, his thumb grazing my lip, sending a jolt through me. "Since you want this so badly, I'll indulge you. But we play by my rules. Understood?"

"What… rules?" My voice quivered, completely unraveled.

He leaned into my ear, his whisper dark as sin. "Rule one: when we're alone, you don't call the shots."

"Rule two: don't leave tonight. Let me show you what it means to give in." His voice was a low, dangerous purr, weighted with undeniable authority, his breath scorching my skin.

"That's… impossible," I mumbled weakly, clinging to the last thread of my dignity, but even I didn't believe my own words.

His lips curved into a cold smirk, fingers tilting my chin up, his gaze a bottomless pit locking onto me.

"Now tell me, Ms. Langley. Should I walk away—or stay?"