Chapter 2 TEN MINUTE SEDUCTION

Zadkiel slowly straightened in his high-backed leather chair, the subtle creak of the expensive material a counterpoint to the silence of his office.

He idly rolled a Montblanc pen between his fingers – a gift from his father, a constant reminder of the legacy he was now responsible for. His sharp and assessing gaze was fixed on his secretary, Micha.

He was fully aware of her blatant attempts at seduction, but he chose to remain outwardly impassive, a mask of cool indifference firmly in place.

She was leaning across his expansive desk, her posture deliberately provocative, offering him an unobstructed view of her cleavage.

Most men would have been flustered, perhaps even tempted. But Zadkiel felt nothing. A flicker of annoyance, perhaps, but nothing more. He was, to his quiet confusion, remarkably unaffected. He maintained a calm exterior, observing her as he might a misbehaving employee – which, in his mind, she certainly was.

Micha was the fifth female secretary he'd hired since taking the helm of the Mortel Group. Like the four who had preceded her, she possessed the requisite skills and experience. She was efficient, organized, and undeniably attractive.

During her interview, she presented herself as the epitome of professional competence. He'd been impressed by her sharp intellect and her seemingly unwavering focus. He valued efficiency and intelligence above all else, and Micha had seemed to embody both. He carefully considered the convenience and comfort in choosing his personal assistance, especially for the one who always had the closest connection to his everyday work.

But, like the others, her true colors had gradually emerged. The subtle flirtations, the increasingly revealing outfits, the lingering touches… it was a pattern he'd come to recognize, a pattern that invariably led to disappointment and, ultimately, dismissal. His patience, never a particularly abundant resource, was wearing thin.

Why did they do it? Was it the power? The money? The perceived glamour of being associated with him? He couldn't understand it. He treated his employees with respect, paid them generously, and maintained a strictly professional environment. He expected the same in return. He desired decency.

The previous four secretaries had met similar fates. Each had started with a promise, each had succumbed to the temptation of trying to seduce him, and each had been summarily fired. He wondered if Micha would be any different. He doubted it.

Zadkiel finally broke the silence, his voice a low, controlled rumble that cut through the air like a knife. "Micha, are you quite finished stirring my coffee?" His tone was devoid of any emotion, his eyes cold and unyielding.

"Oh, so sorry, sir…" Micha straightened, but her posture remained deliberately alluring. She'd become accustomed to his coldness, treating it as a challenge rather than a deterrent. The rumors of his heartlessness, however, were still untested territory. 'Not yet,' she thought, a flicker of determination in her eyes.

"Micha, I want you to close the door," Zadkiel commanded, his gaze unwavering.

"Of course, sir," Micha purred, a sly smile playing on her lips. She moved towards the door with a deliberate sway of her hips, her every step designed to entice. This was her chance. She could feel it. She just needed to be bold, to push him just a little further.

CLICK!

The sound of the door locking echoed in the sudden silence, a sound that sent a thrill of anticipation through Micha. Privacy. This was what she'd been waiting for. Her eyes, now alight with a mischievous glint, met Zadkiel's. She expected to see a flicker of arousal, a hint of vulnerability. She saw nothing.

"Come closer," Zadkiel instructed, leaning back in his chair, his posture relaxed, almost languid. It was a stark contrast to the tension that was coiled tight within Micha.

"Right away, boss," Micha replied, her voice a husky whisper. She approached him slowly, stopping just a few inches away, feigning a shyness that was utterly at odds with her bold actions.

Her uniform, once a symbol of corporate professionalism, had been transformed into a weapon of seduction. The top buttons of her blouse were undone, revealing the creamy expanse of her skin and the lacy edge of her black bra. Her skirt, which should have demurely reached her knees, had been hiked up to a dangerously short length, barely concealing her thighs.

Zadkiel's eyes narrowed, his gaze sweeping over her in a detached, almost clinical assessment. He shook his head slightly, a flicker of disdain crossing his features. "Since when did the office dress code become… this?" he asked, his voice laced with disapproval.

Micha, emboldened by what she perceived as his interest, decided to go all in. She began to unbutton the remaining buttons of her blouse, revealing her bra in its entirety. "Since the day I realized I was attracted to you," she breathed, her eyes locked on his.

"Are you attempting to seduce me, Micha?" Zadkiel asked, his voice remarkably calm, almost bored.

"What do you think, Mr. Mortel?" she countered, licking her lips suggestively, trying to ignite some spark of desire in his impassive gaze.

She watched him carefully, searching for any sign that her efforts were having an effect. But his eyes remained cold, his expression unreadable. It was unnerving. How could he be so unaffected? She was, by all accounts, a beautiful woman. Men had always responded to her advances. But Zadkiel… he was an enigma.

"Alright," Zadkiel said, interrupting her thoughts. "I'll give you ten minutes. Ten minutes to seduce me. Make it count. Because if you fail…" He shifted in his chair, spreading his legs slightly, a subtle but deliberate display. "…you'll be out of a job."

Micha's face paled. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. She'd expected… what? A passionate embrace? A heated encounter on his desk? Certainly not a cold, calculated ultimatum. "Or what, Mr. Mortel?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

"If you fail," Zadkiel continued, ignoring her question, "you can go directly to Human Resources. They'll be expecting you. They'll be posting a new job opening for a personal secretary." He spoke with a chilling nonchalance as if discussing the weather.

Micha's carefully constructed facade crumbled. Panic surged through her. She needed this job. She'd worked hard to get here. She couldn't afford to lose it. "Mr. Mortel, sir… please… don't fire me…" she pleaded, tears welling up in her eyes.

"You've been trying to lure me into bed," Zadkiel said, his voice hardening. "Do you think you've succeeded?"

He wasn't a man who minced words. He believed in honesty, even if it was brutal. He saw no point in sugarcoating the truth. These women, with their manipulative tactics, were a disgrace. He wanted a competent, professional secretary, not a… temptress.

"Sir, please… I… I need this job," Micha choked out, tears streaming down her face.

"I gave you ten minutes," Zadkiel said, his voice devoid of sympathy. "And instead of using that time wisely, you're wasting it on tears." He glanced at his watch, a subtle reminder of the ticking clock.

"I'm so sorry…" Micha sobbed, fumbling with the buttons of her blouse, trying to restore some semblance of decency.

"You've failed, Micha," Zadkiel stated, his voice final. "Gather your belongings. Go to HR. They'll provide you with further instructions." He stood up, dismissing her with a curt nod.

Micha nodded silently, her shoulders slumping in defeat. She turned towards the door, her steps heavy and hesitant. But then, a surge of defiant curiosity overcame her. She had to know. She had to understand why she had failed so spectacularly.

She stopped and turned back to face him, her eyes red-rimmed but filled with a spark of defiance. He was standing by the window, his tall frame silhouetted against the cityscape. "Zadkiel," she said, her voice surprisingly steady, "what do I look like to you?" She needed to hear it, even if it hurt. She needed to know what he saw, what he didn't see.

"I'm an honest man, Micha," Zadkiel replied, his voice still calm, still controlled. "And I'm not like those men who will flatter you just to get what they want."

"Are you… are you even a man?" Micha blurted out, the question fueled by frustration and a desperate need to understand.

Zadkiel's eyes darkened at her question. The words echoed in his ears, planting a seed of doubt in his mind. 'Am I a man?' He knew, logically, that he was. But her question, her blatant disbelief, struck a nerve. He was a straight man, and never once questioned it.

He took a slow, deliberate step towards her, his presence commanding and intimidating. He stopped directly in front of her, forcing her to tilt her head back to meet his gaze.

He leaned down, his breath warm against her face, and whispered, "I prefer decent women, Micha. Not… that." He gestured vaguely at her disheveled appearance. "If you're so curious, look in a mirror. You look… unpleasant." He straightened, stepping back, putting distance between them as if she were carrying a disease.

Micha stood frozen, stunned into silence. His words, cold and cutting, were like a slap in the face. She'd been told she was beautiful, alluring, irresistible. But this man, this infuriatingly cold man, saw her as… unpleasant. It was a blow to her ego, a shattering of her self-image.

She stared at him, her mouth agape, unable to form a coherent response. There was something fundamentally wrong with his perception of women, she was sure of it. But she also realized, with a sinking feeling, that she'd made a terrible mistake. She'd misjudged him completely.

She'd lost her job, her chance at a wealthy husband, and her dignity, all in one disastrous encounter. But more than that, she'd lost her confidence. His words, his cold indifference, had shaken her to her core.

What a weird, messed-up man, she thought bitterly as she finally turned and opened the door, slamming it shut behind her with a force that echoed through the silent office.