The silence in the office was a different kind of noise. It buzzed beneath the surface like an invisible current, thick with tension and unspoken stares. Elena sat rigid at her desk, fingers hovering above the keyboard, her thoughts too loud to allow focus. Across the room, behind a glass-paneled office framed with black steel, sat the man she had hoped she would never see again—Cassian De Luca.
The man from the club. The stranger with eyes like midnight storms and a presence that twisted her stomach into knots.
The new CEO.
Her mind still reeled from the discovery. It had taken every ounce of strength to show up to work today, knowing he would be there—occupying a position of power he hadn't even held the day before. Rumors had spread like wildfire: the company had been under quiet negotiation for weeks, and in a shocking overnight decision, shares had been bought out and Cassian was now in full control.
But Elena knew the truth—or at least part of it. She remembered the way he looked at her that night at the club, the intensity, the curiosity. It was no coincidence. She hadn't just made an impression. She had drawn him in. And now, here he was, sitting behind that sleek glass wall, owning everything.
She told herself to breathe, to focus, to pretend none of it mattered. But her heart was having none of it. Every time she looked up, she caught a flicker of him—his reflection in the glass, his silhouette moving past, the low, quiet sound of his footsteps. He didn't speak to her. Not even a word. But he didn't need to. His presence was oppressive enough.
Their first real clash happened on a Wednesday.
Elena had submitted a quarterly report directly to the finance head—something she'd done for the past year. But this time, it came back stamped "See CEO." She'd been confused. Then irritated. Then furious. She stormed into his office—well, as much as storming could be done in heels and corporate restraint—and laid the file on his desk.
He didn't even look at her. He just flipped through the pages, took a pen, crossed out entire sections, and shoved the file back toward her. Dismissive. Distant. As if her work meant nothing. As if she meant nothing.
That was how it began. Every interaction since then had been coated in steel. He would criticize her ideas in front of others. Reject her emails with cold, curt notes. He once scheduled a mandatory meeting for 6 a.m. just to "review performance metrics"—and only she had been asked to attend.
Yet, he never said anything personal. Never acknowledged their past encounter. Never let anything slip. And somehow, that made it worse.
Elena hated how her skin tingled when he walked by. Hated how she noticed the subtle scent of his cologne—dark, woodsy, expensive. Hated how the way he leaned against his desk, sleeves rolled up just enough to show the inked edge of a tattoo, made her thoughts spiral.
He was mean. Unreasonably so. She told herself that every day. But every night, when she closed her eyes, all she saw was the way his jaw clenched when he was thinking, or the flash of emotion behind his cool expression. It made her furious.
She didn't want to be attracted to him. Not when he clearly enjoyed getting under her skin. Not when his power over her career hung like a blade above her head. But there it was—unshakable, maddening, and real.
The tension between them became an atmosphere of its own—dense, heavy, and unspoken. Coworkers began to notice. Whispers started forming like shadows behind her back. They didn't know the truth, of course. No one did. To them, it was just a classic case of the CEO being unnecessarily hard on a junior staff. But Elena knew better. There was something else—an edge in Cassian's eyes when he looked at her too long. A flicker of something he didn't want her to see.
One evening, when the office had emptied out and only the hum of city lights flickered through the windows, Elena stayed late to finish a report. She had headphones in, music low, the dim silence her only company. But she felt it—a shift in the air.
She looked up.
Cassian was standing at the far end of the room, near the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing out at the skyline. He didn't move. Didn't look at her. But he knew she was there. She could tell. His stillness was deliberate, the kind of quiet that screamed more than words ever could.
Elena's breath caught. For a moment, she imagined walking over to him, demanding answers—Why are you here? Why me? Why now? But she didn't move. Neither did he.
And then he turned, slowly, deliberately, his gaze meeting hers through the reflection in the glass. It was just for a second. But it was enough.
There was something dangerous in that look. Not violence. Not threat. But something deeper. Obsessive. Possessive. As though he had claimed something without permission.
Elena blinked—and he was gone.
The next morning, a new announcement went out. Department reshuffles. New teams. New leads. Elena's name was listed—moved under direct supervision of the CEO's division.
No one questioned it. But she knew.
He was pulling her closer.
Not because he liked her.
Not because he cared.
But because he could.
And as she stood frozen in front of the announcement board, reading her name again and again, she felt it—that quiet, rising dread twisting into something dark and inevitable.
Cassian wasn't done with her.
Not even close.