4

He was being bewitched. That was Noah's first thought as he looked at the two palms that had just been holding the healthy br*asts of his executive assistant. He felt dirty and ashamed of himself for wishing that he could hold those two precious globes without her clothes. Imagining what they felt like bare was already driving him h*rny as h*ll. And her scent...

Jesus tap-dancing Christ!

It was like someone was messing with him on purpose.

He was s*xually frustrated, so he dreamed of the naive executive assistant. Now, he accidentally touched her br*asts. What kind of fate is this? If he even believed such a thing. He was not the type of person who believed in fate. He always believed that people always get to choose. And he could choose to forget about his stupid dream and hold the br*asts of his executive assistant. Right?

But holding wasn't all he wanted to do with those br*asts. Noah wanted to knead those mounds and play with the n*pples with his mouth...

Good thing someone knocked on his office door, so his p*rnographic thoughts didn't continue. He still has many elevator scenes he wants to think about. He might end up m*sturbating again, like last night. And... He's thinking about Ingrid again while pleasuring himself. He felt so disgusted with himself.

Ingrid walked through the door carrying his coffee. That’s when he noticed her flushed face—and she looked like she was about to cry. It wasn’t because of the b*ob accident, was it?

Sh*t! She might sue him for s*xual harassment! Or even if the news just spread around RTA that he touched an employee inappropriately, that would still be bad for his image. His clean reputation would be ruined if that happened.

"Ingrid, is there something wrong?" he asked the woman after thanking her for the coffee.

"N-nothing, Sir," she replied softly, then turned her back on him.

Noah quickly stood up. "Wait," he called out firmly, stopping the woman who was already nearing the door.

"H-has this got something to do with me a-accidentally—"

"No, Sir!" Ingrid looked like she was about to cry, and that made him even more anxious. "I-it’s not that." It was clear she was struggling to hold back her tears. "You didn’t mean to do it anyway."

He approached her when she let out a sob. "Come here," he said, gently taking her by the arm to guide her toward the leather couch.

"W-what happened to you? Is there something wrong?"

Wait a minute—since when did he start meddling in other people’s problems?

"I-it’s not really a big deal, Sir," Ingrid answered, hesitantly sitting down.

"Sit down, please," he urged.

She resisted a little, even pulling her arm away from his hold. "If you think whatever I’m feeling right now will affect my work, you're wrong, Sir. I can still perform my job."

Noah felt embarrassed, as if he felt rejected. "It's not that. I just want to know what your problem is. W-well, if you want to share it. But if you don't want to, I won't force you."

This time, he saw the embarrassment on Ingrid’s beautiful face. "I'm sorry, Sir. I-I didn't mean to be rude. I appreciate your concern." She let out a sigh. "S-someone... someone harassed me earlier on the jeep," she said in a soft, slightly trembling voice.

"W-what?!" Noah exclaimed. At that moment, he felt an overwhelming urge to find whoever had harassed her and beat the guy to a pulp. Funny, because he wasn’t really the violent type. "What did he do to you?" he asked, furious.

Ingrid’s hands clenched into fists. "H-he touched my thigh."

"Son of a b*tch," he cursed through gritted teeth.

"I was so scared I couldn’t react right away. A-and then… he did it again." Ingrid let out another sob, and this time, her eyes were already filled with tears. "I-I felt violated, Sir. As a woman, it was like that b*stard saw me as something less, like an object he could touch without permission."

He gently pulled her down to sit on the couch and sat beside her.

"Maybe he thought I liked it because my skirt had ridden up a bit. I just got off the jeep. I wish I had at least slapped him or hit him with my bag, but I was too shaken. And no one even tried to defend me. People just watched. Some even looked at me like I was the one at fault." She broke into full sobs. "M-maybe… they think women shouldn’t show too much skin or wear s*xually provocative clothes if they don’t want to be harassed."

"Hey..." He wanted to reach for Ingrid’s hand, but he held himself back. This woman was very vulnerable right now, and from what she had just shared, she had been harassed earlier. She might take his action the wrong way. Good thing she didn’t take the accidental touching of her chest earlier the wrong way. But now he was the one overflowing with inappropriate thoughts.

"Listen to me very well, Ingrid," he said.

She looked into his eyes after wiping away her tears. She had the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen—large and light brown, guarded and shy.

"Whoever told you that it’s a woman’s fault when she gets harassed is wrong," he said. "As far as I know, no one wants to be harassed. We are all s*xual in nature, yes, but we’ve come a long way from still giving in to primal and barbaric instincts. We can’t use that as an excuse to do something wrong. What’s wrong is wrong. No one has the right to touch you, no matter who they are, not even a strand of your hair or the tip of your finger, without your permission, even if you were completely n*ked when you got on that jeep."

That’s right, because if Noah were the type to act indecently, he would’ve already made a move on this woman. He could’ve used his position in RTA—or h*ll, even just his good looks—as leverage. He could try to seduce her to ease his s*xual frustration. But he didn’t want to do that, because he knew it was wrong. RTA owners were strictly prohibited from having relationships with employees who worked in the company.

And… he didn’t even know if Ingrid had a boyfriend. Besides, she didn’t seem like the kind of woman who would just give in to casual s*x. She looked too dainty and a little bit old-fashioned. But, d*mn! Maybe that’s exactly why he was starting to feel desire for her. Having s*x with a shy and quiet woman like her was going to be a blast for sure.

"R-right," Ingrid said softly, as if a fire had lit behind her tear-filled eyes. "You're right, Sir. I guess I only thought that way because I’m not surrounded by people who think like you. I’ve heard too many stories of women being harassed and still getting blamed for it—because they supposedly looked or dressed provocatively."

"That's bullsh*t. Don't believe in that kind of thinking. That's just an excuse used by a*sholes."

Noah was surprised when she let out a small laugh. "I didn’t know you could curse, Sir."

"I'm sorry you had to hear that. I'm just... I'm just mad. But just remember everything I've said, okay? It’s not your fault if someone harasses you. And don’t let other people make you think less of yourself. At the end of the day, your opinion of yourself matters more than what others say."

"Thank you, Sir. I wish all men were like you." She looked at his desk. "Your coffee’s probably cold by now, Sir," she said, then stood up. "I'll just make you a new one."

Noah shook his head and stood as well. "No, it’s fine. You can go back to your desk now, Ingrid."