Mr.Miller's Mistress
I step into his office, and he is already waiting behind the desk.
His amber eyes lock onto mine the moment I enter—deep, intense, and unreadable, as if he is trying to reach something buried beneath everything I refuse to show.
“You can’t work under me anymore, Ms. Robinson,” he says calmly.
His voice is steady, controlled. Too controlled.
I tilt my head slightly, pretending indifference. “Are you firing me, sir?”
The word feels unfamiliar on my tongue, even now, like it carries a distance I’m not used to acknowledging.
He exhales slowly and stands from his chair, closing the space between us just enough to make it harder to breathe.
“I can’t continue pretending you don
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