What's behind the door

The next morning, while I was making breakfast, I couldn't hold it in anymore.

"Ethan! I have an interview today! With Alexander Sterling! At Sterling Corp!"

He looked up from his coffee, genuinely happy for once. "Sterling? Ryan, that's huge! That's amazing!"

He hugged me. For a second, he felt like my husband again.

We both left quickly — he had work and had to drop Leo at preschool.

As I watched his car drive away, my smile faded.

It's been 6 months since my husband touched me. Six months. I don't think he's having an affair. He just always says he's tired. Or busy with work.

But... I'm just a 24-year-old girl. I have needs. Not just needs , wild ones.

But Ethan isn't that type of man. He doesn't fantasize. He thinks that kind of thing is dirty and filthy. Like I'm dirty for wanting it.

I shook my head and looked up at the massive Sterling Tower. My dream.

I walked through the big glass doors, my cheap heels clicking.

"Hi... I have an interview with Mr. Alexander Sterling..." I said to the receptionist, my voice shaking.

She typed a bit on her laptop, called him through the telecom, ended the call quickly.

"Follow me," she said.

God. This was my dream environment. The AC was so cold, the smell of expensive perfume, women of class walking around in suits that cost more than my rent.

She led me to a huge black door and opened it.

Mr. Alexander was facing the wall, still on a business call, his back to me. That broad back. That white hair I had seen in pictures, but whiter in real life.

I stood still, so nervous my knees were knocking. He took his time. Slowly, slowly, he turned to me.

His eyes scanned me from head to toe.

He had a very intimidating look and his eyes pierced straight into my soul.

I took a deep breath and adjusted a strand of my hair.

"Sit. We don't have all day," he said. His voice was deep, rough, cold.

The interview started. Questions, questions, questions.

Then he looked down at his tablet.

"From my information here, you're married. With a kid," he said without looking up. "You know being my right hand means working with me at ANY time. Day. Night. Weekends. When I call, you answer. My last assistant quit because she said I was... demanding."

He finally looked up, his grey eyes locked on mine.

"So tell me, Mrs. Ryan. How can a married woman with a 4-year-old son and a husband at home be available for me anytime?"

I swallowed. This was it. I needed this job more than air.

My heart was beating out of my chest. I leaned forward, my hands sweaty.

"Because my son deserves more than what I'm giving him now, sir," I said, my voice shaking but firm. "And I will not let my marital status be the reason he stays poor. I can be available. 24/7."

He raised one eyebrow. He wasn't convinced.

I swallowed my pride and whispered the truth that had been burning inside me for months.

"And... my husband doesn't... require much of my time anymore, sir. I am very... available. For whatever you need. Whatever you want."

The room went dead silent.

He didn't say another word.

He just looked straight into my eyes for a long, heavy second. That grey, piercing, soulless stare that made my stomach flip.

Then he turned away, picked up the telecom, and pressed a button he said"my office " Jenna quietly walked into the office

"Jenna. Show her to her office," he said coldly, like I wasn't even there.

My heart dropped — then exploded.

Her office? HER OFFICE?

The excitement... oh my God, the excitement! I was THIS moment away from jumping over that huge desk and giving him the biggest hug of his life.

I got the job. I, Ryan, married, broke, invisible housewife... I just got a job as the right-hand to THE Alexander Sterling.

But then again... the way he looked at me just now...

This was going to be hard. Very, very hard.

--

It's been one week of being Alexander Sterling's right hand.

One week of cold AC, expensive coffee, and him never looking at me twice. So professional it was almost insulting.

Tonight was Friday. Everyone had left. 7:58pm. He told me to wait in his office while he finished a board meeting downstairs.

I was bored, just looking around his massive office. That's when I noticed it.

Behind his bookshelf, there was a door. A black door with no handle. Just a fingerprint scanner.

I had never seen it open. Ever.

I told myself not to. Don't be curious, Ryan. Don't.

But curiosity won. I pressed my hand against it just to see — and it clicked.

It wasn't locked.

My heart was pounding as I pushed it open.

It wasn't an office.

It was a room. A big, dark, cold room. No windows.

In the middle, a huge black bed. Silk sheets, perfectly made. And on all four corners of the bed — handcuffs. Silver, shining under the dim red light.

On the wall, different colors and types of whips, neatly hung like art. Rope. Blindfolds. Mouth gags. Things I had only seen on the internet and thought were not real.

The room smelled like leather and his expensive cologne.

I was frozen. Fascinated. My hand went to my mouth. Who WAS this man?

I stepped in further, my cheap heels sinking into the soft rug, just to look closer at —

CLICK.

The door slammed shut behind me.

I spun around.

Alexander was standing at the doorway. He had shut the door. His suit jacket was off, his white hair slightly messy from his meeting, his grey eyes dark.

He wasn't just looking at me. He was looking THROUGH me.

He was angry... or was he something else? His jaw was tight, his chest rising and falling fast.

"Ryan," he said, his voice dangerously low, quiet. "What are you doing in my private room?"