Sybil

 

 

Two hours have passed since Melanie left the office and I became the only remaining soul on this floor.

That’s why the unexpected noise coming from the hallway scares me this much.

I hear the main glass door to our floor being opened, then steps. Masculine steps that are approaching my office with a firm certainty.

I sit at attention, my heart racing. Who could this be? The cleaning team usually comes in the early morning hours, and I don’t think they would stroll through the hallway like this.

What if it's a thief? My heart almost stops at the thought. If this person is here to rob us, then he certainly won't be happy to see me sitting here. What if he attacks me? I hastily look around to see if there's anything within reach that could serve as a weapon to defend myself. A pen? A ruler? Scissors! Just as I grab them, another thought pops up.

He opened the door with a key. Whoever this is, he does have a key to our division. Maybe it's just one of my coworkers who forgot something?

But why on earth doesn't he say anything? The steps are approaching my door and the intruder must see that this is the only office where the lights are still on. Wouldn't a normal person announce himself and say something?

Maybe I should say something?

"H-h-hello?" I croak. For the first time ever, my voice breaks beneath the silence and I sound as if I'm scared of my own shadow.

The steps pause and I listen for an answer that doesn't come.

The intruder—I'm pretty sure it's a man—has stopped mid-stride, but he doesn't say anything.

I'm so freaking scared. I never understood why women have a tendency to faint when they are startled or scared, but now I do. This is nerve-wracking. Why is he not saying anything? Why did he stop moving?

As if he's heard my thought, the steps continue as he approaches my office.

Fuck!

 

I hold on to the scissors and turn around to face the door, holding the scissors up next to my face. I'm breaking a sweat and trembling like a leaf. This is ridiculous. Even if he were to attack me, I would probably manage to hurt myself with the scissors before I managed to do any damage to him.

The steps are getting closer and closer and a mere moment before the man reaches my office door, he finally speaks up.

"Miss Young?"

I gasp in surprise.

It's him.

Just as I realize that this deep and pervasive voice belongs to none other than my boss Landen Stark, he appears in my doorway, looking as dashingly handsome as always.

His eyes widen when he sees me and he raises his hands in defense.

"Whoa, there!" he says, calm but loud enough for me to flinch.

I realize that I'm still holding the scissors up in the air, ready to attack him. I blush and lower my hand while letting out a huge breath in relief.

"God, you scared me!" I tell him, before covering my mouth with the palm of my hand. I shouldn't be speaking to him like this, it's his building after all.

But Mr. Stark just chuckles, now leaning against the doorframe with his hands buried in his pants pockets. Just as he does every day, he's wearing a dark suit and a tie, but tonight's ensemble appears to be a bit more upscale than his everyday suit. The black suit hugs his masculine frame perfectly and the silver silk tie looks as if it cost more than my monthly rent. It probably did.

"I'm very sorry," he says, casting me one of those gorgeous smirks that make all the women in our office giggle like school girls. "I didn't mean to scare you."

I try everything within my power to hide the effect he has on me and lower my eyes, while my cheeks are burning with heat.

"No, sure, I'm fine." I mumble, turning back to my desk to put the scissors away.

"I'm glad to see you're here," Mr. Stark adds, catching my attention.

 

I turn back to him and am once again met with those piercing gray eyes. Tonight they truly are gray, and I wonder how I could ever see a hint of green in them.

"You asked me to," I remind him, sounding more reproachful than intended. "I'm almost done with the files and was just about to-"

"It's okay," he interrupts me. He doesn't even have to raise his voice to stop me from speaking.

"I'm actually here to tell you that you can call it a day," he says.

I tilt my head to the side, pursing my lips. He came all the way here to tell me to go home?

"That's why you're here?" I ask. "To tell me to go home?"

He shakes his head.

"No, I'm not telling you to go home," he clarifies. "I'm just telling you to stop working."

What does he mean?

I glance around my tiny office as if I was looking for answers on the walls. My mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

He watches me without saying a word, and if I didn't know any better, I'd think that he was flirting with me. Obviously, he can't be. He's my boss, he's way out of my league, I'm no one—and I must look terrible. I've spent all day at the office and in addition to speaking to myself I have another weird habit of ruffling through my hair while I'm working. In combination with my used up makeup and the tired eyes, I must look like a scarecrow, while he looks just... perfect.

"I-I-I just have very little to finish this up and-" I stutter, but he shakes his head and causes me to shut up.

"It's Christmas Eve," he reminds me. "It was wrong of me to ask you to stay late tonight to begin with. You should be doing something more enjoyable."

I lower my eyes.

"I told you, I could really need the money," I say. "And I won't be able to see my family before tomorrow anyway. I have nowhere to be tonight."

Oh my God, that sounds so freaking pathetic. What the hell am I thinking, telling him this? Besides, he knows all of it. I rambled on about all of this before, which is why we made the deal of me working late tonight in the first place.

 

But why is he here now? It's close to 7:00 p.m. on Christmas Eve. Even for someone like him, this is not the time to be at work.

"Neither do I," he says, answering my unspoken question.

I lift my eyes up to his, furling my eyebrows with disbelief.

“I have nowhere to be either,” he clarifies, reciprocating my gaze with a smile that is hard to read. "Is that so hard to believe?"

I nod. "To be honest, yes, it is."

He chuckles and shakes his head.

"For my family, Christmas has always been more of a business meeting than anything else," he explains. "I don't feel like I'm missing out on anything."

"So, you decided to come back to work?" I ask, looking at him with narrowed eyes. "Was that the most enjoyable thing you could think of?"

Mr. Stark looks at me, his gray eyes fixating on mine, holding me in place while he slowly approaches me. I instinctively want to retreat, but for some reason, I don't.

What is happening here? Why is he looking at me like this?

He stops when he's standing right in front of me, so close that I can feel the warmth of his body and smell his familiar eau de cologne.

"No," he says. "I could think of more enjoyable things to do, but if you don't mind, I'd like for you to join me."

I'm dumbfounded when he lifts his hand and starts to caress my left cheek with the tip of his finger. He's barely touching me, but the sheer promise of his touch send electric sparks through my body. It's been too long since a man has looked at me like this, let alone touched me like this.

And it's never been a man like him before.

"Join you?" I breathe. My voice is so faint that even I can barely hear myself speaking.

He nods.

"Yes, Miss Young," he says. "I must admit, I've had my eyes on you for quite some time now."

"Me?" I blurt out.

"Yes, you," he confirms. "I don't know why that surprises you. Have you never looked at yourself?"

I furl my eyebrows. Is he toying with me? Is this some kind of test?

Am I about to lose my job?

He seems to see all of my concerns written across my face without me needing to voice them.

"You can trust me," he says. "I'm just a man under a woman's spell, asking if she'd allow me to change her Christmas Eve for the better."

He leans forward, suggesting a kiss that he doesn't execute. His lips are so close to mine that I can feel his breath on my skin. I'm drawn to him and find myself leaning forward, closing in on his marvelous lips, but not daring to seal the kiss unless he closes the distance between us.

"How?" I ask, my voice hardly more than a breath.

Instead of speaking, he chooses a different approach to answer my question and presses his lips on mine, claiming me with a kiss that has no equal.