005

SHAYLE

I turned back to Lucien, staring straight into his eyes, and shook my head.

“I can’t. I appreciate the offer, but I’m declining.”

He leaned against the edge of his desk, picking up his laptop and quickly clicking on something, like I was some distraction to him.

“Let me make myself clear. That wasn’t a request.” His tone dropped lower. “It’s a condition.”

My brows pinched together. “Condition? What kind of condition requires me to work more when I just told you I want to resign?”

Then he looked up, dropped the laptop, pushed himself off the desk and closed the space between us. His scent hit me before his words did.

For a brief second, my chest betrayed me with a shallow hitch, but I shoved it down and locked my jaw.

“You’ll work as my secretary for three weeks,” he told me, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument.

“After that, if you still want to resign, I’ll approve it.”

In my head I scoffed so hard I nearly laughed. He thought this was about money? That dangling a fat paycheck in front of me would make me cling to this job like my life depended on it?

Jokes on you, Lucien Dorne. I'm literally on my death bed, so I don’t need the money. What could money buy me; time? Health? A cure? No. None of it.

Out loud, I forced my voice steady.

“Respectfully… why are you doing this? I told you I’m leaving the country. My reason isn’t about money, or this job. I just want to go.”

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly as if weighing the truth of my words. His hands slipped into his pockets.

“You’re the best employee we’ve ever had. Do you even realize how much your work has changed this company? In the years you’ve been here, your ideas and persistence improved our revenue by at least five percent. That might sound small to you, but in my world, that’s huge coming from a single person.”

I folded my arms over my chest. “So what, my own will doesn’t matter anymore?”

Lucien’s lips curved into a smug, irritating small smile.

“Of course it matters. I’m just helping you not make a mistake you’ll regret later.”

My blood boiled. Helping me? He was twisting my arm and dressing it up as kindness. That arrogant look on his face told me all I needed to know—we were never going to get along.

His secretary? Fine. If that’s what he wanted, I’d take the damn position. But I’d make sure he regretted it. I’d make him sack me instead.

I forced a smile so fake it hurt my cheeks. “Alright then. I accept.”

“Good.” He gestured with his hand, dismissing me like I was some kid who had finished begging for candy.

“You can leave now.”

My smile fell the second I turned around. I wanted to scream. Who did he think he was, treating people like pawns?

By the time I got to my office, I dropped into my chair and groaned, covering my face with both hands. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. I was supposed to be free today, cross “resign job” off my list, and breathe easy for once.

Dragging my bag across the desk, I pulled out my journal. I opened to the page where my list stared back at me. I picked up my pen and wrote one word beside the first line: pending.

Pending. My resignation wasn’t complete. Thanks to him.

I left work earlier than usual because honestly, there was nothing to do. Tomorrow I’d report not to my own office, but to him as his secretary. The thought alone made me want to hurl.

The taxi ride home was quiet, my thoughts loud. I stared out the window at the gray sky, telling myself not to cry over something as stupid as a job.

When the taxi dropped me off, I paid the driver and stepped out, my heels clicking against the uneven pavement. I adjusted my bag on my shoulder and started walking toward my apartment building.

That’s when I noticed it.

A small shop I hadn’t seen before, right beside my apartment building. A new sign hung above the door with bold letters: Tattoos.

I froze, staring. A tattoo shop? No way. They opened just in time for me to tick one thing off my list.

A smile tugged at my lips for the first time all day. My feet carried me closer before I could talk myself out of it.

I wasn’t here to get inked right this second, but I could at least check their prices, come back prepared, and finally do it. I could even choose the tattoo I want today.

I pushed the door open. A little bell chimed above my head as I stepped inside. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic and ink. My heart raced.

I turned around after closing the door, and that’s when I saw him.

My neighbor. Yes, my hot next door neighbor.

Walking toward me with an apron tied low around his waist.

His hair, always falling lazily to the sides of his face, caught the light. The sleeves of his black shirt were rolled up, exposing his arms covered in tattoos that looked both dangerous and beautiful.

I almost gasped. My lips parted but no sound came out.

He stopped right in front of me, his eyes meeting mine with an ease that made my chest tighten.

“Welcome,” he greeted, his voice deep enough to send a shiver down my spine. “Looking to get a tattoo?”

Damn. That voice. How could a man sound like that? Like temptation and comfort and every guilty dream I’d never admit out loud.

For a second, words betrayed me. I just stared, probably looking like a complete idiot.

I finally parted my lips to answer, but before I could get a syllable out, he tilted his head, studying me.

“Wait,” he interrupted, brows furrowing slightly. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”