I walked into the office the next morning with my head filled with yesterday's mess.
The moment kept replaying — how his eyes met mine before he shut the blinds.
Was he angry? Embarrassed? Or just… done with me?
I sighed quietly and settled into my seat.
Be professional, Azaria. You're not here for nonsense.
I focused on the usual: updating his schedule, checking emails, sending reminders.
But no matter how busy I stayed, my mind kept drifting.
His eyes.
His voice.
His words echoing — "Are you here to just serve coffee and run errands?"
I shook my head and snapped out of it.
⸻
At lunch, the cafeteria buzzed with the usual chatter.
Stephanie was mid-rant about something — her annoying ex again.
That girl can't stay a day without new gist —
when my phone buzzed on the table.
Cassian Ward.
A message:
"Bring a cup of coffee to my office."
I stood immediately, mumbling to Stephanie and the others that the boss needed me.
The cafeteria noise faded behind me.
My heart began its usual foolish drumbeat as I entered the executive kitchen.
The scent of ground beans calmed me a little.
I fixed the coffee just how he liked it — strong, one sugar, no cream.
"Focus, Azaria. No mistakes today," I whispered to myself as I walked toward his office.
I pushed open his door.
"Good afternoon, sir," I said, stepping in carefully, stretching out my hands to hand over the cup of coffee.
But in the next second, my heel clipped the edge of the rug — and everything slowed.
The cup tipped.
Hot coffee splashed across his pristine white shirt and dark suit.
My eyes went wide.
"Oh my God! I'm so sorry—so sorry, sir."
I panicked, already reaching for tissue, my hands trembling.
But he held up a hand.
"It's fine. No one's above a mistake," he said calmly.
"You know what… just wait a moment while I change this. I'll need you to take it to dry cleaning."
Then, without hesitation, he began unbuttoning his wet, stained suit jacket.
My breath caught.
His fingers moved smoothly, undoing each button of the shirt underneath.
The coffee had soaked through — so he peeled it off too, revealing toned arms, a solid chest, and faint traces of a gold chain around his neck.
And that chest? So hairy.
I froze.
I wasn't supposed to stare, but I did. I couldn't help it.
I couldn't control my eyes — they just wouldn't look away.
I wanted to look away. But my eyes had a mind of their own —
and they wanted more, so I satisfied them by making them look as much as they could.
My gaze roamed the defined muscles, the light dusting of hair across his chest —
the way his body curved like a sculpted warning.
God really finished work on this man.
Don't. Look. Azaria, I murmured to myself.
But my thoughts betrayed me.
God… you are dangerously fine.
He stepped forward to hand me the shirt, but I was so lost in my fantasy, I didn't even notice.
Until his deep, husky voice snapped me out of it—
"Miss Quinn. Miss Quinn. Miss Quinn. The suit too."
It wasn't until the third call that I blinked and came back to reality.
"Y-yes, sir."
He handed both over, and his fingers brushed mine for the briefest second.
My stomach flipped.
He was still close — way too close — and speaking to me in that low, slow voice that made me feel like collapsing.
"You've been a little clumsy lately," he said, gaze unreadable.
"Try to handle things more carefully… and avoid unnecessary delays."
I nodded quickly. "Understood, sir."
But in my head, I wasn't so obedient.
Though my mouth said understood, sir…
my heart whispered, I really need to handle you with care… without delay.
He must have seen something on my face — a flicker, a blush, something.
Because he gave me a look. Not angry. Just… observant.
"Everything's okay," he said finally. "You can go."
I turned, heart pounding. I couldn't even walk straight.
My legs felt like they'd forgotten how to move.
My mind was still in his office — on his chest, his voice, that closeness.
Back at my desk, I dropped into my chair and stared at the screen.
I forgot I hadn't eaten my lunch.
But I was full… not of food —
but of the scene I couldn't stop replaying in my head.
Not just my stomach — even my heart felt full.
Stuffed with thoughts of him.
Stephanie and the others returned from the cafeteria, chatting as they settled back into work.
Stephanie called my name, but I didn't even hear her.
I was gone — no longer in this world.
I think I was stuck in a time loop of moments ago in his office.
I tried to busy myself with work, but my fingers hovered above the keyboard, frozen. Every time I blinked, I saw that chest. That chain. That stare.
I shifted in my seat, frustrated. "Get a grip," I muttered, low enough so no one could hear.
But how do you get a grip on a man who looks like a storm and speaks like thunder? Who strips his shirt like it's nothing, and somehow takes all my common sense with it?
I tapped randomly on the keyboard. Nothing made sense anymore. Not the spreadsheets in front of me. Not the coffee on his shirt. Not the way my heart wouldn't stop racing.
And definitely not the way I wanted him to call my name again — maybe a little less annoyed this time. Maybe slower. Maybe with need.
I rubbed my forehead, trying to chase the heat from my face. It was useless.
Stephanie glanced at me again, raising a brow. "You good?"
I nodded too fast. "Yeah. Just… brain fog."
"Girl, which type of fog is that?"
I didn't even have a comeback.
She rolled her eyes and went back to her desk.
And me? I sank lower in my chair, like that would hide the mess going on in my head.
That man was trouble.
And I was already in deep one.
Behind the glass wall, I caught sight of Mr. Cassian looking in my direction.
Our eyes met again.
He didn't smile.
He didn't frown.
He just… watched.
Then slowly, he turned away.