Chapter 5

"Hey!" I barked, forcing my voice deeper as I raised a hand sharply, stopping him in his tracks. My heart thudded against my ribs, but I masked it well.

"I don't mean to be rude, but just because you heard me sound like a girl just now doesn't mean I'm gay like you," I said, keeping my voice cold, my eyes scanning the room for an exit—or anything I could use to defend myself if things got ugly.

"And for the record," I added sharply, "you’re not even my type. So back off."

I didn’t want to be cruel. But if cruelty would keep him away, then I’d be heartless.

For a split second, I feared he’d keep coming—his eyes glinted with something unreadable. My pulse spiked, and my gaze darted to a nearby glass cup on the shelf. Not ideal for a fight, but better than nothing. If he made a move, I'd use it.

I couldn’t risk exposure. I couldn’t risk a physical confrontation either.

But then… he pouted.

He actually pouted like a scolded child. My entire body froze, blinking in disbelief.

"It's not like you're that cute anyway," he mumbled under his breath, huffed dramatically, and stomped out of the room like a toddler denied candy.

I stared after him, stunned.

What just happened?

Saved... by a pout?

I didn’t wait around to question my luck. I pulled my shirt down and hurriedly adjusted my chest binder, making sure everything was in place. Once I was satisfied, I stepped out of the room and made my way to Justin's office—my boss, not that he knew I ever dared call him by name in my head.

He’d never know the chaos he unknowingly inspired inside me.

I paused outside his office door, nerves curling like smoke in my stomach. I hadn’t been gone long, but Justin wasn’t exactly known for his patience or mercy. Even on my first day, I hadn’t seen a trace of a smile from him. His whole aura screamed strict, cold, and chronically unimpressed.

I took a deep breath and turned the doorknob.

He looked up the moment I entered. His eyes—sharp, unreadable—met mine, and I instantly froze.

What have I done this time?

"Were you not taught manners at all?" he snapped, each word cutting like glass.

"I–I…" My voice failed me. Was this about me slipping away after the meeting without a word?

"I'll throw you out of this office the next time you barge in like you own it."

Oh.

So that’s what this was about. Not the disappearing act. Just the lack of knocking. I blinked, feeling like an idiot. Still, he wasn’t wrong. And for some reason, that stung more than it should.

"I'm sorry, sir," I said quietly, lowering my head in shame. I was usually careful, but something about being around him made me forget the basics. He had that effect—intimidating, suffocating, a presence that made the air heavier.

Before I could say more, his phone buzzed on the desk. He glanced at it once, ignored it. Then it rang again. And again. And again.

I stayed still, watching from the corner of my eye as it rang for the fifth time. Finally, with a sigh full of irritation, he picked it up and pressed the speaker button.

"Hello?" he answered, voice laced with forced patience.

What came next was an eruption.

"Why didn’t you pick my call? I’ve been calling more than five times! Are you trying to ignore me or what? Or are you busy trying to get hooked with another lady?! I’m your fiancée, for crying out loud! You should pick my call on the first ring—hello?! Are you even listening to me?! Hello?! Ugh!!!"

The call cut off abruptly.

Silence settled, thick and awkward.

I didn’t need anyone to tell me who that was. Only one person could screech like that and still think it was love: Arian. His fiancée.

How on earth did a man like Justin get tangled with someone like her? Obsessed didn’t even begin to describe her. Calling a hundred times just to accuse and rant? That wasn’t love. That was madness dressed in high heels.

I was still mulling over it when his voice snapped me back.

"What are you still standing there for?"

I jumped a little, startled, and straightened up.

"Here are some documents I want you to work on. I want results. Good results," he said, emphasizing the word like a challenge. He picked up the file, then tossed it toward me without warning.

It landed with a soft slap on the floor.

Again.

What was it with him and throwing things like I was some kind of stray?

But I said nothing. I was in his territory, and right now, I was the prey. I swallowed my irritation, got to my knees, and picked up the documents quietly.

I hadn’t even been shown my desk. Was that deliberate? Did he assume I wouldn’t last more than a week? Was he trying to test me—or push me out?

I glanced up at him, busy typing at his computer like I didn’t exist. My eyes narrowed. If he really thought I was weak or temporary, he was in for a surprise.

I’ve fought my way up to this point. I didn’t break to get here, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to start now.

He wasn't going to scare me off.

No, I would prove him wrong. Whether I was doing it to spite him or... to impress him, I didn’t know. But I would show him I wasn’t like the others.

I wasn’t fragile. I wasn’t temporary.

I dropped onto the couch, documents in hand, and started working, determined to let my effort speak louder than anything else.

But the thought kept circling back. Haunting me in quiet moments.

“I’ve never needed anyone’s approval—not Grandpa’s, not society’s. But somehow, the way Justin looks at me… like I’m less than the dirt under his shoes… I want to wipe that smirk off his face. Or earn a different look entirely. One that says I matter. That

I’m seen.”

Is there something wrong with me?

Or worse... is he already starting to see too much?