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1078 Words
—•TRISTAN•—
In all my thirty-five years, I had never met anyone who intrigued me quite like June.
She held my attention in a way nothing had since I took over the company, and that was saying something, considering we had spent only a few hours together the night we met.
What unsettled me most was that, despite everything, she had managed to capture my interest… and not entirely in a bad way.
For the past week, I’ve noticed she’s been avoiding me.
It started subtly at first.
I’d walk through the marketing department corridor on my way to morning meetings, and her desk would be empty, coffee mug gone, chair neatly pushed in, as though she’d vanished the moment she heard my footsteps.
Wanting to see her every morning became the highlight of my f*****g morning. I won’t pretend otherwise.
I’d find myself lingering in the hallway, adjusting my cufflinks, straightening my tie, doing anything just to catch a glimpse of her.
But she was never there when I passed her desk.
Not until yesterday.
I was walking towards my office, when I caught movement in my peripheral vision.
A flash of her long auburn hair.
Then she slipped into a corner, pressing herself against the wall as though she could make herself disappear if she tried hard enough, her back turned to me, shoulders hunched.
A smile tugged at my mouth before I could stop it.
I had no idea why she was running from me. It’s not as though I bite.
Okay, maybe I might bite her juicy n*****s.
What on earth am I thinking?
Get a grip, Tristan.
At first, I loved it. The way she hid the moment she sensed my presence. The way she tried to make herself disappear.
There was something primal about it.
It felt like a cat-and-mouse chase, and I was the predator who'd cornered his prey. The thought alone sent blood rushing south.
But as the days passed, I grew tired. Bored. Irritated, even.
I started to resent the fact that I wasn’t seeing her anymore.
Walking past her empty desk became a daily ritual in disappointment.
I’d find myself checking the hallway more often than I checked my emails, scanning the cafeteria at lunchtime, searching for a woman who was clearly doing everything in her power to remain invisible.
Was I getting addicted to wanting to see her face every morning?
Maybe.
So, when my secretary proved herself incompetent for the third time this week, June was naturally the first person I thought of to take her place
Alright, who was I kidding? I’d fired my secretary because I wanted June to take her place.
To see her every day.
To make sure she couldn’t run from me anymore.
The moment I tell her she will be my new secretary, I don’t miss a single reaction that crosses her face.
Her eyes snap wide.
The colour drains from her face, then rushes back just as quickly, flooding her cheeks with pink.
"You want me… to be your secretary?" The words come out breathless, almost a squeak.
Clearly, she isn’t expecting that.
"You heard me right." My eyes hold hers. "I hate repeating myself."
Her throat bobs as she swallows, and I watch it for a moment too long before dragging my gaze back to her face.
"Okay, sir," she says quietly.
I watch her closely as she takes it in—like someone who's just been told she'll have to walk a tightrope without a net.
Her fingers twist together by her sides, knuckles going white, and she stares at me like she has a million questions stacked behind those honey-brown eyes.
I know she does.
And I want to hear them.
More precisely, I want to hear her soft angelic voice that always makes my c**k twitch in my trousers.
It's already stirring now, pressing against the fabric, just from looking at her.
"I’m really grateful for this opportunity," she says finally, her voice shaking. "But I just started working here, sir. I don’t think I’m competent enough to be your secretary."
Something tightens in my chest.
Why is she belittling herself?
I don’t like it.
It makes me angry—no, irritated. Or maybe both.
I rise to my feet, and I see her body go rigid.
Picking up her résumé, I step closer to her.
Close enough that I can see the faint twitch of the muscles around her eyelids.
Close enough to catch that soft, jasmine and vanilla scent that lingered on her.
I hold the résumé up between us, my finger tracing slowly down the page.
"You graduated with a 4.8 GPA," I say, my voice low. "With distinction. A well-behaved student."
I look at her. "That's competent enough for me."
"But I have no work experience," she mutters, something in her voice sounding almost like desperation.
Like she's trying to talk me out of this.
Like she'd rather be anywhere else than in this office with me.
And that only makes me want her more.
"You will now," I say simply. "Starting today. As my secretary."
"But…"
"If you’re not going to work as my secretary, you might as well leave the company," I say, cutting her off.
A low blow. I know that.
But I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her close to me.
She opens her mouth, then closes it.
Opens it again, but nothing comes out.
She looks like a fish gasping for air, and I find it somewhat amusing.
I watch her for a long moment, letting the silence stretch between us.
She doesn’t meet my eyes.
Instead, her gaze drifts to my chest, my tie, the wall behind me, anywhere but directly at me.
With a slow, satisfied smirk tugging at my lips, I say. "I’ll take your silence to mean you’re accepting the position as my secretary."
Then I circle back around the desk and sit down, putting some distance between us before I do something reckless.
Something I might regret.
"If you don’t have any questions, you can leave," I add, reaching for a pen and pretending to busy myself with paperwork. "Meet my PA outside. His name is Mark. He’ll take you through everything you need to know."
"Okay, sir," she nods.
She turns around so fast it almost startles me, then she’s moving towards the door, practically dashing out of my office.
"This is going to be fun."
- Writer
