"Not sneaking into my office, are you?" a deep masculine voice caused Stacy to stiffen, her leg hanging midway just before it could cross into the other room.
Today was her first day. She had just landed her job at Filmhouse Studios, here in the big city of Lagos, joining the writing crew.
It was an unlucky job because she had never wanted to work for anyone; she only wished to be huddled in her room and earn from her writing.
However, either her writing wasn't good enough or the publication house was biased, as they had not accepted her work yet.
Now, she finally had the job and was given a script to deliver to the CEO of the company, someone she had never set eyes on.
Hearing the voice that caused the hair on her skin to stand, Stacy retracted her legs, her gaze raising up to the wide-open office door. Inside, there was a black glistening table and a massive chair with a figure seated on it.
His gaze was fixed on his desk as he looked through files, but from his stature, Stacy confirmed how big of a man he was, his shoulders broad, the white buttoned shirt he wore clinging to every muscle. He wore spectacles, resting at the bridge of his nose. For the owner of the well-known company, he was surprisingly young and fair in complexion, a turnoff for her since she had always been attracted to dark-skinned men.
"I am very sorry," Stacy apologized politely and tapped at the door. "Can I come in, sir?"
The hand holding a pen halted once she spoke, and slowly his gaze raised up to meet the one who had just disrupted his business. Usually, the workers do not knock, neither do they sneak into his office like a squirrel.
He made sure that all employees were informed to leave every information with his secretary, but hearing this little disruption this afternoon caused him to frown.
However, when his gaze met the intruder, his displeased face was replaced with shock. "You!" he exclaimed.
Dazzled, he stared at the olive-skinned girl, tall with a well-rounded figure, lips pouted and smudged with light lip gloss, eyes catlike with full thick lashes, one might mistake them for fake. Her braid, made of gold, was packed neatly into a ponytail. She wore a tucked-in buttoned maroon shirt over black trousers; she looked very professional, not like the girl he had only met last night at the club. "How odd that I noticed you in one glance."
Stacy stiffened, her hand gripping the file tightly, so tight she feared it might tear. It couldn't be, the one she had met last night was actually her boss?
"Kill me, kill me," she muttered with sheer terror.
Being in the club was a mistake in the first place; her friend had pushed her and coaxed her to socialize often, and she had agreed. She had gone there, staring blankly until a topic of women's equality came up, and this handsome man tended to argue that women were better off being housewives. The handsome man was her boss?
"I-It cannot be," Stacy gasped, staring at him in a daze. She could remember his curved lips and narrowed brown eyes as they gazed at her, probably considering her a fool as she made her point. Stacy had been so persistent, trying to make him understand that women were meant to be equal to men. She had made a valid point, but she had raised her voice so loudly that everyone in the club had turned to look at her. She wasn't certain if he had been humiliated or not; she didn't care in that moment, but now, she feared the worst—that she might be fired. Just today, she had gotten the job.
He smiled at her, leaving his spot at the table and striding towards her. The dark suit he wore clung to his masculine body. He was tall, his hair trimmed short, his eyes sparkling as they took her in. "Quite an interesting girl," he smiled, surprising her. "I had always wondered what you might be up to after what happened between us."
Stacy took a step back, avoiding his gaze completely. Her lips pressed together as she spoke, "I'm sorry about back at the club. I was tipsy. I shouldn't have spoken to you that way." God! She hated being vulnerable, but what choice did she have? This was the only decent job close to her career that she got.
He shrugged, stopping just before reaching her. "I love an interesting girl, one who can stand up for herself with no fear in her eyes." He waited, staring at her until she eventually looked at him, shocked.
"Back at the club," her voice quivered, "You didn't seem to like it when I stood up against you." She remembered his tightened jaw, his snort, his discomfort. It couldn't all be a facade, right?
"Ah, one needs to appear masculine in public. Taking the side of equality will belittle me," he explained, his smile curving. "I admire your fierceness; it only showcases your strong spirit." He moved towards her, slowly, like a lion before pouncing.
Stacy couldn't move; she could only blink as he drew closer with each passing second. She wanted to push him away, but somehow her feet were stuck to the tiled floor, her heels digging in. "I didn't know I was going to work for you," she managed to speak, though her breathing was raspy as he drew even closer, so close she could begin to inhale his masculine cologne, so strong it wafted through her nose, captivating her. "I thought you would fire me."
"Fire?" he reached her. To Stacy's surprise, his hand met her cheek, rubbing slowly with his long fingers. She shivered, feeling the effect of his touch. His eyes searched hers, as if he could see right inside her. "You have done nothing wrong; there is no need to fire you. Besides," he leaned forward, his breath caressing her skin as he spoke next, "I am privileged to have someone as fierce as you working for me."
Stacy closed her eyes, relishing the feel of his hand on her skin and the closeness of his masculine scent enveloping her, making her dizzy. She had never felt this close to the opposite gender before; she had never imagined it would be like this, with electricity coursing through her. She knew she should pull away, but instead, she found herself enjoying more of his touch, savoring the sensation of his hand on hers.
His gaze was fixed on her closed eyes, and he let out a little throaty laugh that caused her eyelids to flutter open. "A little trouble," he mused, stepping back. Then his gaze fell on the file in his hand. "Next time you are directed here, drop whatever information with my secretary."
"Oh!" Stacy's lips parted, feeling embarrassed that she had almost faltered from his touch, especially in her workplace. What had come over her?