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Zara's eyes were glued to Xavier's bare chest, unable to look away. The sculpted muscles, the deep V-line, the way his sweatpants hung low on his hips—she couldn't help but be captivated. It was as if her brain had short-circuited, and all logic had left her. She moved a step closer, almost unconsciously, her hand lifting as if to touch his chest. Before her fingers could make contact, Xavier's quick reflexes caught her wrist. His grip was firm, but not harsh, and he raised an eyebrow, looking at her with an amused expression. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked, his voice low but laced with a hint of teasing. Zara, startled but determined not to show weakness, scratched the back of her head awkwardly, trying to save face. "What do you mean? Why are you walking around shirtless?" she countered, trying to shift the focus off herself. Xavier's smirk deepened, his dark eyes glinting with mischief. "I'm not the one sneaking around in other people's rooms, Zara. You're the one who barged in here." Zara blinked, her mind scrambling to find an excuse. "Oh, right," she muttered, still not sure how to explain her behavior. She gave him a sheepish grin, but her eyes darted back to his chest, trying to look casual. "I was just… looking for something," she said, her words trailing off as she tried to think of a better lie. Xavier didn't buy it for a second. Slowly, he took a step forward, closing the distance between them. Zara instinctively took a step back, but Xavier followed, not giving her any space to escape. Her heart raced as she backed up again, trying to keep some distance between them, but Xavier wasn't making it easy. "Trying to run away now?" Xavier teased, his voice laced with playful challenge. He moved another step forward, and Zara continued retreating, her back now against the wall. Her breath hitched as she realized she had nowhere else to go. "I wasn't trying to run away," Zara said quickly, her voice a little too high-pitched. "Just, you know, I… I don't want to intrude. I just—" But Xavier wasn't interested in her stammering excuses. His gaze remained locked on her, and as he stepped closer, his hand that had caught her wrist slowly slid down to her fingers, brushing against her skin. The gentle touch sent an unexpected shiver down her spine. Zara's heart hammered in her chest, and she took another step back, this time bumping into the wall with a soft thud. She couldn't help but feel the heat building between them, the tension so thick it was almost palpable. Xavier, now mere inches from her, tilted his head, his lips curling into a playful grin. "I think you're lying," he murmured, his voice soft, but full of mischief. "You were trying to touch my chest, weren't you?" Zara's face flushed with heat, and she tried to push back against him, but it was like trying to move a mountain. She cleared her throat, trying to recover some of her composure. "Maybe I was," she admitted, her voice low. "But, um… so what? It's not like you're making it easy to ignore." Xavier's grin widened as he leaned even closer, his body just inches away from hers. The closeness was overwhelming, and Zara's mind started to spin. She could feel the heat radiating off his chest, and she had to fight the urge to reach up and touch it again. "Is that so?" Xavier whispered, his breath warm against her ear. He placed his hand on the wall beside her head, trapping her in place as he stared down at her with a wicked gleam in his eyes. "You sure about that?".
The office buzzed with the usual clatter of keyboards and hushed conversations, but Zara Winters wasn't fazed by the noise. She was in her element—sitting at her desk like a queen in a battlefield, her laptop open and papers strewn across her desk. A cigarette dangled carelessly between her fingers as she scanned through the final stages of a massive project. Her outfit—classic button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up, distressed jeans—had that effortless charm that made everyone look twice. But it wasn't just her looks that commanded attention; it was the energy she exuded. Zara had a way of making the most mundane moments feel like a power play.
As she sifted through the project details, her assistant Tori nervously approached, holding a stack of papers. "Zara, we have a problem with the financials," Tori said, voice shaky.
Without looking up, Zara casually leaned back in her chair, the cigarette between her fingers now glowing orange. Her eyes remained fixed on the screen, but a subtle shift in her expression made Tori's stomach drop. "A problem, huh?" Zara repeated, her voice like silk laced with steel. "Tell me, Tori, what kind of problem are we talking about here?"
Tori hesitated, and for a brief moment, the room felt a little too still. "I-I think the numbers are off by a few thousand," she stammered.
Zara's gaze flicked up, and for a split second, her eyes—cold, piercing—felt like daggers. "A few thousand?" she repeated, her voice unnervingly calm. "Are you telling me that a few thousand is just a 'problem' to you, Tori?" The silence in the room thickened. Tori felt a cold sweat breaking out on her forehead. Zara's expression was like a predator's, and Tori, for a moment, was the prey. Zara leaned forward slightly, every inch of her demeanor exuding a quiet, dangerous intensity. "If this 'few thousand' isn't fixed, we will have a much bigger problem, won't we?"
Tori's throat tightened, and her eyes widened, clearly terrified. She swallowed hard but could barely manage a squeak. "I-I'll fix it, Zara. Right away."
Zara's eyes narrowed, and just as Tori thought she might melt into the floor, Zara's lips curled into a smile so wide and sweet it felt like a slap to the face. "Good girl," she said, her voice suddenly soft and syrupy. "But, uh, don't make that mistake again, okay?"
The smile held no warmth. Tori nodded frantically, her heart still pounding in her chest as Zara effortlessly flicked her gaze back to the laptop.
Tori slowly backed away, now more terrified than before. Zara, meanwhile, blew out a puff of smoke, her eyes glinting with humor as she caught sight of a few employees trying not to stare. She gave a casual shrug, as if the whole interaction had been no big deal. "Seriously, though," she muttered under her breath to no one in particular, "if they ever figure out what a real mistake looks like, I'll be impressed."
Her assistant, still shaken, let out a nervous laugh as she quickly exited, leaving Zara to her thoughts. But just as quickly as the storm had come, it was gone, replaced by the usual relaxed confidence that everyone had come to expect from the woman who seemed to rule the room without even trying.
Zara smirked, leaning back in her chair. "A few thousand," she muttered again with a shake of her head. "Amateurs."
