Tension

Chapter Twelve

Stephano

The very minute the door creaked open, Isabella stiffened in my lap. I swore under my breath, my grip tightening on her thighs as she gasped, scrambling off me. Her movements were uncoordinated, as she tugged her dress down.

I exhaled slowly, jaw clenched, as I yanked my zipper up. I had to maintain control.

Isabella huffed beside me, adjusting the hem of her dress with a glare before shooting an annoyed look toward the door. "Your damn employees don’t knock, Stephano," she muttered under her breath, smoothing her hair with sharp, irritated fingers.

I dragged a hand through my hair, still feeling the heat of her body against mine. My focus shifted the second I caught sight of who was standing frozen in the doorway.

Camilla.

She looked like she had just walked into a nightmare, her lips slightly parted, her face pale, her wide eyes flickering between Isabella and me before locking onto the floor as if praying it would open and swallow her whole.

"Get out," I ordered, my voice low and sharp.

She jolted, breath hitching audibly, and I swore I saw her fingers tremble where they clutched the file in her hands.

But she didn’t move.

Isabella scoffed, running a frustrated hand over her tousled hair before turning back to me.

"You can’t be serious," she hissed. 

She reached for her purse, and just as she turned to leave, she shot me a glare over her shoulder.

"I hate you," she snapped.

I smirked. Reached out and caught her waist before she could storm off completely.

"You don’t mean that," I murmured against her ear.

She shuddered, her breath coming out in a soft, unwilling sigh before she pulled away.

I let her go, watching as she strutted toward the door, sending one last glare in Camilla’s direction before disappearing into the hallway.

The door slammed shut behind her. And just like that, silence.

I turned my attention back to Camilla.

She stood there, frozen, clutching the file so tightly her knuckles had turned white. Her breathing was shallow, her gaze fixed somewhere on the carpet, as if looking at me would set her on fire.

I leaned back in my chair, exhaling slowly.

"Don’t want anyone else walking in on us, do we?" I murmured, tilting my head.

She swallowed hard, her shoulders snapping straight as she sucked in a sharp breath. "I- I just came to tell you that Mr. Gunner - " she stammered, voice unsteady. "He… he wants to set up an appointment tomorrow."

I arched a brow. "That’s why you’re here?"

"Yes, sir."

She was trembling.

I could see it in the way her fingers twitched, the way her chest rose and fell just a little too quickly.

I didn’t miss the way her gaze darted, just for a second, to where I sat. 

She was thinking about it. About what she walked in on. I smirked.

"You walked in on something, Camilla," I murmured.

She flinched.

"I—I didn’t mean to," she whispered.

"But you did," I mused, my tone almost amused.

A small tremor ran through her. I stood, moving toward her.

"You called my name before you opened the door," I continued. "But you still walked in."

"I—I wasn’t looking," she rushed out, panic seeping into her tone.

"Liar."

She sucked in a sharp breath, her fingers tightening around the file. I reached her in two strides, closing the space between us. She tilted her chin up, lips trembling, her breath shaky.

I smirked.

"Tell me, Camilla," I murmured, lowering my voice. "What exactly did you see?"

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

Her breathing was shallow now, her pulse visibly hammering in her throat.

I leaned in, my mouth inches from her ear. "Or did you already replay it in your head?"

She let out a shaky exhale.

I chuckled.

Her gaze, her wide, guilty gaze, hovered everywhere but on me.

And then, for half a second, half a damn second, her eyes flickered downward. I felt it. That tiny, stolen glance toward my groin. Heat licked up my spine.

“What the hell are you doing here, Camilla?" I questioned in a dangerous tone.

Camilla swallowed hard, her fingers twitching against the folder. "I already told you. I —I tried calling," she stammered."But you weren’t answering. Mr. Gunner, one of the investors, wants to speak with you. He… he wants to set up a meeting tomorrow."

Her words tumbled out in a rush. Like she needed them to save her.

I took a slow step forward.

She immediately stepped back.

Good. She should be scared.

I wasn’t in the mood to be patient.

Not after the kind of hell she’d already put me through today.

I exhaled sharply, my voice dropping. "Do you have any idea what you just did?"

Camilla flinched slightly. "I—I didn’t mean to interrupt—"

I let out a low, humorless chuckle.

"But you did," I cut her off, watching the way she struggled to hold my gaze.

And I didn’t miss the way she kept stealing those glances, quick, flustered, like she wanted to pretend she wasn’t looking at me like that.

Like she wasn’t thinking about it. About what I wanted to do to her.

What I should be doing to her.

I clenched my fists. I wanted to bend her over this damn desk and make her pay for every damn second she had me aching, suffering, craving her like a man on the verge of insanity.

I had Isabella right here, on top of me, and yet, I couldn't use her. All because bloody Camilla walked in.

I leaned back against my desk, arms crossing over my chest as I watched her try to compose herself.

Pathetic.

She wouldn’t meet my gaze, eyes flicking to everything but me, the desk, the chairs, the damn bookshelf like it would magically teleport her out of here. But I wasn’t about to let her off so easily.

Not after what she had just walked in on.

Not after how hard I still was.

"Did you see it?"

"I—I didn’t— I mean, I wasn’t—" Her voice trembled.

Oh, I was going to enjoy this.

I smirked.

She was stammering, her breath uneven, her face burning in that delicious way that made me want to shove her against the nearest surface and remind her exactly who she was dealing with.

And that mouth, that sinful, nervous little mouth,  opening and closing as she scrambled for words.

I knew what she was thinking.

She had walked in and seen me,  seen me.

And I bet the image was burned into that pretty little head of hers now. I tilted my head, watching the way her throat bobbed, the way she was practically trembling with the need to escape.

"A-about Mr. Gunner—" she finally managed, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I'll just… I'll just mail the details."

I let out a quiet, amused breath.

"No."

Her eyes shot up to meet mine.

I pushed off the desk, stepping toward her.

"Don’t mail them. Walk me through it."

Camilla stiffened.

She blinked, her breathing shallow.

"I—No, I’ll just come back," she stammered.

Ah.

So, she wanted to run.

Too bad.

I let the silence stretch, watching her.

Then, I asked smoothly, "Why?"

Her fingers clenched tighter around the folder.

"I should give you time to, um… settle."

I almost laughed.

Settle?

As if I wasn’t still aching, as if I wasn’t still imagining all the ways I wanted to make her pay for this little interruption.

She thought I needed space, that I needed a moment to compose myself. She had no idea.

"You think I’m unsettled, Camilla?"

She froze.

I smiled, slow and dark.

No, I wasn’t unsettled.

I was furious.

I was hungry.

And she, she was the only thing standing in my way.

The only thing I wanted. The only thing I couldn’t have. And it was driving me mad.

She was unraveling. Right before my eyes. I watched the way her breath hitched, the way a bead of sweat slid down the side of her throat, disappearing beneath the crisp collar of her blouse. And her eyes, God, her eye, they flicked down again, betraying her.

I felt it. The undeniable throb between my legs.

She had seen.

She had noticed.

"No, no," she stammered, voice shaky, eyes darting back up to my face. "Of course not, sir."

Sir.

A smirk pulled at my lips.

I liked that.

But I liked the way she looked at me even more.

I bet she could feel the heat creeping up her neck, pooling in her stomach. I bet she hated herself for looking, for noticing. And I?

I wanted to make it worse. I wanted to push her until she was panting, until she was trembling so badly she couldn’t even speak. I wanted to hike that ridiculous little skirt up her ass, press her against my desk, and really make her sweat.

But no.

I wasn't going to screw the employees.

Instead, I leaned back, slow, controlled.

"We need to prepare for tomorrow’s appointment," I said smoothly, watching her swallow.

She nodded quickly, eager to move past this. "Of course. I’ll get everything in order—"

"We need to take our time, Camilla."

She stiffened.

"S-sure."

"Sit down."

I gestured to the chair across from me, and she hesitated. I arched a brow. She got the message.

Her movements were stiff as she lowered herself onto the seat, hands folding in her lap, back painfully straight.

Good girl.

"Sir, it’s my lunch break…"

I exhaled sharply, shaking my head.

"And?" I murmured.

She hesitated.

"I was just thinking maybe I could—"

"Maybe you could what?" I cut her off, tilting my head.

She pressed her lips together.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the desk.

"Do you know what happens when employees take too many breaks, Camilla?"

Her throat bobbed.

"They get replaced."

Silence. She shifted uncomfortably, fingers curling into the fabric of her skirt. I watched her, drinking in every tiny, nervous movement.

"You wouldn't fire me over a lunch break," she muttered.

I smirked.

"Try me."

She didn't argue. Didn't even breathe.

I pushed a file toward her, fingers brushing the edge. "Walk me through these."

She blinked, flustered. "Sir, I—"

"Now."

Her fingers trembled as she reached for the file. She opened it, scanning the pages, trying to collect herself.

I leaned back, watching, waiting.

She fumbled over her words, her voice uneven, unsure. Because she felt my eyes on her. And I wasn’t helping. I let my gaze roam, let my focus follow the rise and fall of her chest, to the way she was shifting, thighs pressing together,  as if that would help her.

"Page twelve," I murmured, just to watch her flinch.

She hurried to flip the pages, but her grip was weak, and the papers slipped from her grasp, spilling to the floor.

She sucked in a breath, frustrated, flustered.

I watched as she scrambled to pick them up, bending forward, fingers grasping at the pages.

And then I saw it. That tiny glimpse of skin. That ridiculous little skirt riding up, revealing far too much.

Damn it.

Heat shot through me, fast, and hot. I clenched my jaw, my fingers tightening against the armrest. She was driving me insane. I should have never made her stay. I should have let her go the second she walked in.

I should—

No screwing the workers.

Camilla is a worker.

"Get out."

The words snapped from my lips before I could stop them. Camilla froze, mid-reach, eyes darting up to mine.

She looked confused, hesitant.

"Sir, I- "

"Now, Camilla."

She swallowed hard.

Then, without another word, she scrambled to gather her things, fingers shaking, eyes darting to mine one last time before she practically ran out of my office. I let out a sharp breath, jaw clenching.

What the hell was she doing to me?

I leaned back in my chair, exhaling slowly as the door clicked shut behind her. My fingers curled against the armrests, nails pressing into the leather as I forced myself to breathe.

Hell.

This was the longest damn record of frustration I had ever had in my life. Every muscle in my body was strung tight, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. My jaw ached from how hard I had been clenching it.

I tilted my head back, staring at the ceiling, willing the tension to ease.

It didn’t.

Unbelievable.

I had never, not once, let a woman get under my skin like this.

This… this wasn’t me.

I was Stephano Maddens. I took what I wanted, when I wanted it, how I wanted it. I had no patience for games.

And yet, here I was, tortured. By Camilla of all people.

I let out a sharp exhale, fingers flexing against the desk.

If I really wanted relief, all I had to do was step outside, grab one of the wide-eyed blondes at reception, drag her into my office, press her up against the desk, and—

I growled under my breath, shaking the thought off.

No.

I had made a promise to myself.

I was keeping a clean slate.

I wasn’t going to screw my employees.

Not this time.

And yet, Camilla…

Goddamn Camilla.

The way she fidgeted, the way she stammered—the way her breath hitched when I got too close. She had no idea what she was doing to me. She wasn’t trying to drive me crazy. But she was. And the worst part?

I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. I clenched my fists, forcing my breathing to steady.

I needed a distraction.

I needed to work.

The meeting tomorrow—Mr. Gunner. The investors. The deal.

I had work to do.

And I couldn’t do it like this.

I needed Camilla back in here.

Needed her to sit her ass down and walk me through the details. I smirked, fingers reaching for the intercom. Let’s see how much longer I could make her squirm. 

I picked up the phone, pressing the button with deliberate force. My fingers curled around the receiver as I brought it to my ear.

The line rang once.

Twice.

Then, her voice.

"Sir?"

Just one word. Soft. Unsure. Damn near breathless. And hell, I felt it.

A pulse between my legs.

I clenched my jaw, gripping the receiver tighter.

“Get back in here, Camilla.”

I didn’t wait for a response. I ended the call with a sharp click and set the phone down, exhaling through my lips.

I leaned back in my chair, fingers tapping against the desk, counting the seconds. She wasn’t going to make me wait, was she?

No.

She wouldn’t dare.

The moment Camilla stepped back into my office, I knew I’d made a mistake calling her in. She stood near the door, hesitant, her hands clasped together like she had no idea what to do with them. Her blouse clung to her frame in just the right way, her skirt riding up slightly as she shifted from one foot to the other.

I was already regretting this.

I had called her back in because I needed to focus, to get things done, to stop thinking about the way her voice sent heat straight to my core. 

And then my phone rang.

I exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down my face before reaching for it.

Perfect timing.

I barely glanced at the caller ID before answering. “Speak”

“Sir, we have a situation at the branch. There’s been an issue with the - ”

I barely listened. The words blurred together, something about a supply chain delay, a contract mix-up, business problems that required my attention. Problems that, for once, I was glad to deal with.

I let out a slow breath, my grip on the phone tightening. Good. This was good. This was exactly what I needed.

A reason to get out of here. A reason to step away from the temptation standing a few feet away.

Camilla.

She was still there, watching me, her posture stiff, eyes darting between me and the desk, like she was waiting for something. I ended the call with a sharp snap of my wrist and stood, stretching out the tension in my shoulders.

“I have to go handle something,” I said, moving toward her.

She blinked. “Oh… right. Okay.”

I should’ve left it at that.

I should have walked past her without another glance. But I didn’t.

Instead, I stopped right in front of her, towering over her small frame. My fingers itched to touch, to grab, to hold her still just to watch her squirm.

I settled for tilting my head down, lowering my voice as I said, “Stay here. Focus. Sort everything out before I return.”

She nodded too quickly, too eager to escape my gaze.

Nah. Not enough.

I reached out, tilting her chin up with my fingers, forcing her to look at me.

“You don’t leave until I get back,” I said.

Her throat bobbed. “I understand.”

Good girl.

I let go, stepping back.

This was my chance. My one escape from this hell of temptation.

I grabbed my keys, my body still thrumming with frustration, and walked out without another word.