7 - Worried

Aracelli's Pov

I chewed nevously on my lips as I looked at my outfit in the mirror, the awkward scene between my boss and I still playing in my head, the car had been filled with sexual tension, one can cut it with a knife, and here I am, preparing to face him at work.

Today, I was dressed in a black dress that was pleated from my waist down and it stopped at knee length. I paired it with a black blazer and black pump heels. I could pass for someone going to mourn a dead person.

My hair was in a loose bun, I let two strands fall freely down the front, though shrinkage was eating at them, preventing me from rocking the length of my hair.

I took a cab to the office, my anxiety eating away at me as I got into the elevator.

As I stepped out of the elevator, I looked sideways, wanting to make sure the 'coast was clear' before I tiptoed to my office, trying to make as less noise as I could, but my heels made it almost impossible.

The sound of a person clearing their throat had my head spinn