Aaria had only been at Viera Industries for two days, but already, she could feel the pressure curling around her throat like an invisible leash.
Most interns fetched coffee or filed reports.
Aaria? She was reviewing confidential client proposals, organizing Rafael Viera's schedule, and handling personal deliveries that weren't even marked under the company's name.
It was… strange. Too much access. Too soon.
And he was always there.
Not hovering. No. Rafael Viera didn't hover. He observed.
Through the glass walls of his office. From across the conference table. Even when she thought he was too busy to notice her moving through the building, she could feel the weight of his gaze.
Every. Single. Time.
It was late evening when she found herself alone on the top floor, printing out quarterly projections that she didn't understand and wasn't sure she was supposed to be looking at.
The light was low. Everyone had left.
Everyone except him.
She didn't hear his footsteps. Just felt his presence behind her, steady and quiet like a shadow that had chosen her.
"You're still here."
His voice was low and cool, but there was a heat beneath it—an undercurrent she couldn't name.
"I was told to finish these tonight," Aaria said, not turning around.
"I didn't tell you that."
She did turn now, brows furrowed. "Then who—?"
"I did ask for them," he said. "But I never said tonight."
A pause.
"I wanted to see if you'd do it anyway."
Her lips parted slightly, breath catching. "Why test me?"
"Because," he said, stepping closer, "I like to know the limits of what people are willing to do for me… before I decide what I'm willing to do for them."
His words lingered in the air, thick as molasses.
"You're crossing a line," she said, voice firm despite the quickening of her pulse.
"I'm redrawing it."
He moved around her, slow, deliberate, his fingers brushing the edge of her desk as he passed. It was subtle. Intimate. Intentional.
"You intrigue me, Aaria," he murmured. "You walk into my company with steel in your spine, eyes full of war—and yet here you are, working overtime alone… for a man you claim to dislike."
"I don't dislike you," she said through gritted teeth. "I just don't worship the ground you walk on."
He smiled.
"I don't need worship. I only need obedience."
Her fists clenched. "I'm not one of your employees, Rafael. I'm not yours."
He stepped in front of her now, close enough to touch—but didn't. Not yet.
"No," he said, gaze locked on hers. "Not yet."
Her heart pounded in her chest. She hated the way her breath stuttered. Hated the way his words slid under her skin.
"Are you going to fire me?" she asked, softly.
Rafael tilted his head. "Why would I fire you, Aaria? That would mean letting you go."
And as he walked away, he left her with one final whisper, low and cruel:
"I don't let go of what I want."