Unwelcome Intrusions

CHAPTER 12

The office felt colder than usual that morning.

Not temperature-cold. Not physical. Emotional. Tense. Like the walls themselves were waiting for something to break.

Ivy was back. I didn’t see her yet, but I knew. Could feel it in the air. In the whisper of heels on the hallway floor. In the subtle shift of my coworkers’ expressions. Everyone knew. Everyone noticed.

I pressed my palm to my desk. Tried to steady myself. Tried to breathe. But the knot in my stomach refused to loosen.

“Morning, Maya.” Reign’s voice came from behind me. Calm. Controlled. Protective.

I swallowed. “Morning, sir.”

He leaned against the edge of my desk. Just slightly. Enough that I felt the warmth radiating from him. Enough that my pulse skipped.

“You handled yesterday well,” he said softly. “But today… expect interference. And Ivy doesn’t play fair.”

I nodded. “I… I’ll be careful.”

“You’ll do more than that,” he said, eyes locking on mine. “You’ll impress. You always do. Don’t forget it.”

I blinked. My chest fluttered. His voice. His confidence in me. Dangerous. Reassuring. Infuriating.

The morning passed. Slowly. Painfully. Each email, each call, each spreadsheet felt heavier than the last.

And then… the intrusion happened.

Ivy appeared in the main office. Not a visit. An ambush. A casual stroll in, as if she owned the place.

Her smile was perfect. Sharp. Dangerous. Like knives disguised as silk.

“Good morning,” she said, voice light. Not a greeting. A challenge.

I froze. My fingers tightened on my notes.

Reign stepped beside me. Protective. Subtle. But enough that Ivy noticed. Enough that the air shifted.

“You’re early,” he said evenly. Too evenly. Warning underneath.

Ivy’s gaze flicked to me, then back to him. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss today’s developments.”

Developments… or chaos? I thought.

The first meeting of the day was scheduled. Henderson follow-ups. Board members. Analysts. And Ivy.

She didn’t hold back. Every question was a trap. Every word carefully crafted to make me stumble.

“Interesting projection, Maya,” she said, voice soft but cutting. “But are you confident it reflects reality?”

I blinked. Swallow. Heart hammering. “Yes. I double-checked everything. The projections are accurate.”

A subtle smirk from her. Not enough to intimidate fully. Not this time.

Reign’s gaze flicked to mine. Encouraging. Silent. Protective. Dangerous.

The meeting escalated.

Questions became pointed. Challenges sharper. Ivy’s influence was evident. She leaned forward in her chair, eyes narrowing every time I answered. Every time Reign offered a clarifying remark. Every time someone in the board nodded at her input.

I felt sweat prickling the back of my neck. Hands clammy. Voice shaking slightly. But I pushed. Explained. Clarified. Corrected. Controlled my breathing.

And somehow… I survived.

Ivy left the meeting room last, smirking as if she’d won something. I wanted to glare. Wanted to storm out. But I didn’t. Couldn’t.

Reign stayed behind me, quiet. Calm. Watching.

“You did well,” he said softly. “Better than well. You stayed composed. Focused. Impressive.”

I exhaled shakily. Relief and pride clashing inside me. My chest tight. Heart racing. Thoughts spinning.

The afternoon wasn’t any easier.

Emails demanding clarifications. Minor errors flagged. A project timeline questioned. Every intrusion felt like Ivy’s shadow. Every glance from the board made my stomach twist.

I misfiled a document. Panic rose instantly.

Reign noticed. Of course he did.

“Maya,” he said softly, leaning just slightly toward me. “Check that report. Minor error. But fix it.”

“Yes… sir,” I whispered.

The proximity… the warmth… my heart did that fluttering thing again. My hands shook, but I corrected the mistake. Carefully. Slowly. Perfectly.

By mid-afternoon, Ivy escalated.

She cornered me in the break room. Not openly hostile. Casual. Innocuous. But dangerous.

“New here, aren’t you?” she said sweetly. Voice like honey over steel.

“Yes,” I said, keeping my tone neutral. “I’m Maya.”

“Interesting name. Clever girl. But cleverness isn’t always enough,” she continued. “Some lessons are… unavoidable.”

My stomach twisted. What does that mean?

Reign appeared just in time. Silent. Calm. Watching.

“You’ll excuse us,” he said evenly. Protective. Edge in his tone.

Ivy smiled. Thin. Sharp. “Of course. Enjoy the lesson.”

And she left. The sound of her heels echoing like a warning.

The day dragged on. Henderson updates, board follow-ups, small crises handled with trembling hands but steady mind.

I kept stealing glances at Reign. At the subtle way he moved. At the way he watched over me. The way he smiled—just barely—when I corrected another error under pressure. Protective. Encouraging. Dangerous.

By late afternoon, exhaustion hit. Physical and emotional. My chest felt tight. Mind buzzing. Fingers sore from typing and holding files. Eyes burning from staring at spreadsheets.

Reign appeared beside me again. Quiet. Silent. Watching.

“You did more than survive today,” he said softly. “You thrived. Even with her intrusions. Even with pressure.”

Heat flushed my cheeks. Chest fluttered. “I… I just tried,” I whispered.

He leaned just slightly closer. “You tried, and you succeeded. That’s what matters.”

My pulse spiked. Mind short-circuiting. Words failed me.

As the day ended, I realized something important.

Ivy’s interference wasn’t just professional. It was personal. Strategic. Dangerous. But also… revealing.

Reign wasn’t just protective. He trusted me. Relied on me. Believed in me. And somehow… I felt it in my bones.

A flutter. A spark. A dangerous, thrilling spark.

The office emptied. Quiet returned. But the tension lingered. Like a storm waiting to break.

I cleaned my desk slowly, methodically, trying to calm the fluttering in my chest. Thoughts kept drifting. To Ivy. To Reign. To the tight, chaotic storm that had become my life.

Then a ping. Another unknown number.

You survived. But she’s just getting started.

I exhaled, leaning back in my chair. Heart hammering. Mind spinning.

I knew the next intrusion wouldn’t just be professional. Not anymore.

It would be personal.

And I had no idea if I was ready.