I storm off to the restroom outside his office, behind my office.
How dare he! How dare he touch me, leaving a hickey on my skin? What is wrong with him?
If he has an interest in me—which he definitely doesn't—he should state it. Instead of touching me.
I hate you, Sinveer.
His fucking fingers were resting on my pussy. And what the fucking hell is this heat within me? My skin is crawling.
"What the fuck?" I exclaim.
Looking at myself in the mirror, my cheeks are red.
"What kind of fucked-up expression is this!"
I lean over the running sink, splashing water on my face, trying to cool my temperature.
I hate my body. I hate that my body betrayed me. I swear to you, Sinveer De Luna… when I'm going to kill you, I will make it excruciatingly painful.
Ahhhh... my panties are soaked. I don't know why my body is reacting to him like this. I've never felt like this before—not even when I was touched by men I was assigned to kill. Never!
When I get back, I'm going to make sure he apologises for what he did.
And being in the same space, in close proximity, alone with him? That's out of the question now.
That man is unpredictable.
After I cool down, I make my way back to his office.
As I push the door open, he's already at his seat, sleeves rolled back to their original position. Coffee in his left hand, eyes on his computer.
I stand across from him at the edge of the large brown table.
Oh, now you're acting as if you don't see me.
As if you didn't just ransack me.
"Sir, don't ever do what you did earlier. I won't condone it next time," I tell him, holding his gaze, brow furrowed.
"What do you mean, Ms. Liach? I don't understand."
His voice is calm. His face unreadable.
I scoff.
Is he being serious right now?
"What do you mean, you don't understand? At the coffee room, you—"
"What happened at the coffee room, Ms. Liach?"
Is he seriously gaslighting me right now?
You bastard. You're really going to pretend like nothing happened? Like you didn't press your filthy body against mine? Like you didn't grope me, touch me like you owned me, lick my damn neck?
God, I can still feel the heat of your fingers between my thighs.
You think you can play this mind game with me and walk away unscathed? That I'll be the one to second guess myself?
No. I was there. I felt you. I hated every second of it—every burning, humiliating second my body responded to yours.
My body trembles slightly as my fist twitches, anger coursing through me. I slam my fist against the table.
"You ran your disgusting hands and lips all over my body!" I point toward the coffee room, glaring at him.
He looks at me with a blank expression. Says nothing.
Liach, calm down. Don't get too agitated.
I continue, "What you did in that room… touching me and invading my space—don't ever do that again. I don't care if you're my boss. Don't cross the line."
"Ms. Liach, I don't know what you're talking about right now." He speaks with disbelief etched on his face, as if I'm accusing him falsely. "And also," he continues, "You brought this coffee to me and immediately stormed off. Are you okay?" His face is still blank.
What is this?
Is he making a fool out of me right now?
"Then what are you going to say about the blood at the side of your lip? Since you're denying."
"What blood, Ms. Liach?" he demands, turning the side of his face to me.
And surprisingly… it's clean.
No crack.
No slap handprint from earlier.
"Okay then, what about the hickey on my neck right now?"
At least he can't deny this. He has to apologise.
"Why are you showing me your hickey, Ms. Liach?" he asks with a smirk.
"Maybe you were bit by a bug, or it's probably your boyfriend."
I don't even have a boyfriend!
He leans back, brings the coffee to his mouth, drinks from it, then continues,
"And also, you exposing your skin like this to show me your hickey is unprofessional. Don't do that again, Ms. Liach."
Wow.
This guy is the worst jerk in the world. A psychopath.
Did you literally just make me seem like I was hallucinating? Like I'm crazy?
You dare keep denying?
You pressed your body against mine, invaded my skin, my breath, my goddamn control—and now you're looking at me like I imagined it?
No… no. I didn't imagine that. I couldn't have. I can still feel where your tongue was on my neck. Where your hands rested on my thighs. I can still feel the phantom ache of your touch like it's tattooed beneath my skin.
And worse…
Worse is how my body reacted. How my chest tightened. How heat pooled between my legs. How I froze. Not in fear. But in some shameful, unspeakable tension that made my breath hitch.
Is this what you do, Sinveer? Manipulate until we don't know what's real? Gaslight until we doubt our own skin? You want me off-balance. You want me vulnerable. Soft. Easier to crush under your perfect, polished shoes.
But I won't be that girl.
I won't be your victim. I won't be another name in your file.
You think you've won because my body trembled for you?
Watch me, De Luna. That trembling will be the quake before your ruin.
"Can we focus on the files now?" he adds, now smiling at me.