Bruised Composure

Zara

The next morning, I got to the office earlier than anyone else.

I really needed the quiet.

The sterile silence of the empty corridors gave me time to breathe, to focus on something other than the burning embarrassment that still clung to me like cheap perfume. I buried myself in paperwork and emails, printing out updated schedules, responding to vendor queries, and sorting through calendar invitations for meetings I’d only just begun to understand the relevance of. The company was vast, intimidating, and intricate. Every detail had to be right, and I was being very careful.

Alexander Sterling’s schedule was so full it looked like a campaign trail, not the week of a corporate executive. Meetings, press briefings, investor calls. I arranged everything, triple checked it, and slipped the finalized version into the slim silver tray outside his office.

Then I turned to my next battlefield: coffee.

With trembling hands, I carefully brewed the blend I’d memorized from yesterday’s humiliating ordeal. He hadn’t said anything specific today, no preference about strength, roast, or origin, but I wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice. I measured everything precisely. No shortcuts. No assumptions. Just silent, meticulous brewing.

When it was done, I took a steadying breath and carried the cup to his office.

I knocked once. A pause. Then his cool, clipped voice:

“Come in.”

He barely looked up from his laptop as I entered. I set the coffee down quietly and stood for a second, unsure whether to say anything.

He finally glanced at the cup, then at me. His eyes held mine for half a heartbeat, unreadable. Then he picked up the drink and took a slow sip.

Nothing. Not a nod. Not a grimace. Just silence.

I swallowed. “I hope it’s better today.”

He looked at me like I’d spoken in a foreign language. Then, softly:

“It’s fine.”

Fine? What did that mean? Did he pity me? Was this some form of mercy, or had I finally gotten it right?

I gave a stiff nod and turned to leave. My heart thundered behind my ribs as I reached for the door, trying not to show my disappointment. I couldn't tell if he meant it… or if he just didn’t want to watch me brew eight more cups.

The rest of the morning dragged. I kept my head down, managing emails and updating his itinerary for the following day. Occasionally, I caught myself thinking about his voice. The low timbre. How clinical it sounded now compared to the night we’d spent together. Cold. Professional. He hadn’t for once acted like he knew me outside this job, and that unsettled me more than anything.

Maybe it was for the best.

But a small, stupid part of me, the one that remembered how his hands felt on my waist, hated that he could switch off whatever had passed between us so easily. Like it hadn’t happened.

By the time the office lights dimmed and the floor began to clear, I realized it had been a painfully slow day. The kind that grates at your bones, and this is literally my first week in the job.

I took the train home with aching feet and a sore neck, my thoughts still circling around him like vultures.

When I stepped into the apartment, Jules was sitting on the kitchen counter in one of my oversized sweaters, sipping cheap red wine straight from the bottle, I didn't even remember it was there.

She raised a brow. “You look like you went ten rounds with capitalism and lost.”

“I did.” I dropped my bag and slumped into a chair. “And my boss might be Satan himself.”

“Hot Satan?” she asked, grinning. “Because the look in your eyes says yes.”

I gave her a look. “He’s insufferable. Cold. Untouchable. I’ve never felt so invisible in my life.”

She handed me the bottle. “Invisible? Really? Because you’re blushing.”

I blinked. “I am not.”

“You so are,” she sing-songed, hopping off the counter. “Tell me everything.”

“I told you already, he’s the man from the hotel.”

She widened her eyes in obvious fake shock. “Oh no, I remember. I’m just waiting for the chapter where he throws you over his mahogany or whatever desk.”

I groaned into the wine bottle. “Please shut up.”

But she was right. The problem wasn’t that he was cold. It was that I remembered how warm his skin had been. How his breath had felt on my neck.

And now he looked at me like I was just air.

After dinner and a short exchange with my mom, who looked a little better after taking her new meds. I collapsed into bed and prayed that the next day would pass without incident.

Well, it didn’t.

The moment I walked into the office, I noticed her.

She was tall, polished, wearing heels that cost more than my rent and a camel coat draped over one shoulder. Her dark hair was sleek and tied in a low chignon. She looked like the kind of woman who ordered wine without looking at the menu.

She stepped out of Alexander’s office with a faint smile and a glimmer of something in her eyes, confidence, ownership, maybe familiarity. She walked past me like I didn’t exist.

Who the hell was she?

His girlfriend? His wife? His Monday morning distraction?

Before I could overthink it, his voice rang out from his office.

“Zara. In here.”

I didn’t even have time to check my reflection before stepping inside.

He didn’t ask me to sit. He didn’t even glance up.

“You left yesterday before I did,” he said coolly, flipping through a file on his desk.

“I...yes, I thought we were done for the day. I didn’t realize...”

He looked up, and that was worse. His eyes were calm, but cold.

“Don’t do that again.”

I blinked. “I didn’t know it was..”

“You must never leave before I leave.” His tone was final. “No exceptions.”

There was no room for argument. No space to explain that I was new, confused, overwhelmed. His authority filled the room like fog, suffocating and steady.

I nodded stiffly. “Understood.”

“I don't like to repeat myself, Now, you can go.”

I stepped out of his office, my cheeks burning. The door clicked shut behind me like a guillotine.

Back at my desk, I gripped the edge of the table and I inhaled and exhaled slowly. My heart was pounding again. My hands trembled slightly as I opened my planner and tried to find something to focus on.

You must never leave before I leave.

What kind of power game was that?

I closed my eyes for a second and tried to steady my emotions, I didn't want to cry...not today. I was here to work. To earn money. To afford the necessities. To survive for my mum and I.

That was it.

Whatever this was, the push and pull, the memory of his body, the impossible tension humming beneath the surface. I had to kill it.

Fast.