"I've never seen you smile so much... Do you get a rise out of seeing people unhappy and losing to you?" Rexhard said, immediately sucking the joy out of me for a moment.
What was I doing? Why was I losing my façade?
Trying not to make it obvious that he had affected me, I replied with practiced indifference.
"However I wear my expressions has nothing to do with you, does it? I didn't realize you paid so much attention to me that you now monitor my facial movements."
I shot him a look and walked calmly to sit at my desk.
"Miss Samantha…" he said, and I noticed a flicker of softness in his tone, "I have to admit, your smile is truly beautiful. You've worn a poker face for so long, I was beginning to think you'd never honour the world with a glimpse of those perfect teeth."
I looked up at him in disbelief, blinking slowly.
"Who are you, and what have you done with Rexhard?"
He chuckled gently, actually looking like a gentleman. Nothing like the Rexhard I knew, the ruthless manipulator. This version of him looked carefree. Happy, even.
"Now, now, Samantha," he said, voice light, "professional ethics, remember? You can't just walk up here and stare at me like I've grown two horns, can you?"
"You might as well have," I retorted. "So this is your new game? Playing the perfect secretary? You make me sick."
"I don't know what you're talking about, Mrs. Samantha," he replied, feigning ignorance with a nonchalant shrug.
He looked away, and I felt my guard rise again. That's how he operated, reading people, adapting, performing. He became whatever suited the moment. A chameleon. That was how he manipulated, how he broke people. That was how he destroyed lives.
And I remembered again exactly why I hated him, and why I always would.
Returning to my usual mask, I forced a professional smile.
"Of course. Forgive my breach of conduct. Now, where were we? I'll call you Alex, if you don't mind."
"No, I don't," he said, then added, "Miss Samantha, do you mind if I call you Samantha?"
I gave him a sharp look.
Was I petty?
Absolutely.
"No, you may not. Now, what's my schedule for the day?"
I didn't miss the subtle snap that followed, the sound of yet another pen giving in to his frustration.
But guess what?
I didn't care.
He had better have plenty of them.
Because I still wouldn't make life easy for him.
Not until I got my revenge.
Work was busy. I had to deal with a lot of papers going in and out, some for signing, others for refusal. As the company's CEO, it came with the territory.
Rexhard / Alex was surprisingly complacent.
No matter how much I annoyed him or made him run errands, he still had a smile on his face. I'd lost count of how many pens he'd broken in the span of two hours, and I kept wondering why he had so many of them in the first place.
He smiled so sweetly, like a boy next door. I wouldn't be surprised if the company girls decided to make him the next poster boy.
While we were both downstairs signing papers and meeting a few investors, I couldn't help but notice the silent squeals and lingering stares from staffs. Entire departments were peeking just to get a glimpse of the new secretary,
I wouldn't be surprised if he started receiving flowers or love letters.
Women.
Just as I thought I would get through the day without so much as a hitch.
Guess what happened?
It was my grand aunt.
She came bursting into the office like she owned my seat. Both our heads shooting up in surprise from our seats, his desk, which I had so graciously placed inside my office a little while ago after we both had to go through some embarrassing moments I was sure we would never forget.
Usually, secretaries had desks outside the offices of their employers and when Alex asked to not be outside surrounded by fawning girls I made sure to get a rise off him. My mind wandered just for a moment.
It was a few minutes after the hectic meetings, project makings and plannings and Alex's desk was filled with Rose flowers and letters, it has only been a few minutes.
Even I, had to admire the dedication, I chuckled slightly at the amount of flowers and said mockingly.
"Have fun dealing with all that, pretty boy".
And I could have sworn another pen snapped, perhaps he was going to rethink his decision of coming to the office anymore.
He probably couldn't take it anymore and he was in front of my desk one more time requesting for a change by sitting in my office instead.
And I remembered enjoying the situation way too much at how subservient he was.
"I said it would help me stay close to my duties," he said with that innocent, butter-wouldn't-melt smile.
"Your duties, huh?" I shot him a sideways glance. "Is that what we're calling it now?"
He opened his mouth to speak, but I lifted a hand, stopping him.
"Save it. If you're going to be in my space, the least you can do is be useful."
He blinked, clearly confused. I stood from my chair, stretched dramatically, then pointed to my shoulder.
"Tension," I said plainly. "You're my secretary, right? So fix it."
He froze.
For a beat too long.
Then he laughed, though it sounded strained. "Yes, ma'am. Of course."
His hands were warm. Too warm. He placed them on my shoulders with just enough pressure to surprise me, his fingers kneading into the knots like he'd done it a thousand times before.
Why did it feel like he had?
I stiffened, trying not to react, but I swear, for a second, my eyes fluttered shut in pleasure, but only for a second.
"Relax, Samantha," he whispered.
That was when I felt it, the shift.
Not the massage.
Him.
The secretary melted away.
And for the briefest moment, Rexhard resurfaced. His hands slowed, the rhythm of someone too confident, too knowing. His thumbs pressed lower, just below my shoulder blades, a deliberate pause, he was reaching deeper into my skin, I felt my temperature rise.
And I shot up from my chair so fast I nearly sent it flying.
"Okay! That's enough of that!" I said, stepping away, brushing my shoulders like I'd been dirtied.
Alex… Rexhard… whatever his name even was anymore, took a step back too, that same irritatingly calm smile on his lips. But his eyes?
Not calm.
That was him. The real him.
"Apologies," he said smoothly, bowing slightly. "Just doing my job."
I didn't respond. I couldn't.
Because for one second, he made me forget who he was.
And I hated that.
Hated him for it.
"Get back to work," I muttered, not meeting his gaze as I sat back down, mentally reminding myself:
He's the enemy.
Even if his hands were heaven.
And that was the real problem.
And yes, his desk.. the one I made sure was the cheapest, stiffest and least ergonomic piece of furniture we had in storage.