The morning light filtered through the office blinds, soft streaks of gold landing on the polished floor. Selina sat at her desk, quiet and withdrawn, pretending to focus on her screen. The incident from earlier still burned in her mind—Vanessa's lips on Andrew's, the way he just stood there, and how foolish she must have looked dropping the files like a startled intern.
Inside his office, Andrew Vele sat behind his desk, staring blankly at the city skyline. His tie was loose, sleeves rolled up, but the weight pressing against his chest refused to ease. He had tried to bury himself in reports, in meetings, in anything that could pull him away from what he saw in Selina's eyes—hurt.
He didn't understand why it bothered him this much. Selina was just his secretary. Nothing more. She shouldn't matter this much. And yet… her quiet apology echoed louder in his mind than Vanessa's entire conversation.
Finally, he gave in. He pressed the intercom button.
"Selina, come in."
Selina froze for a moment before standing. Her heart skipped as she knocked gently on the glass door.
"Come in," his deep voice came again, steady but tense.
She stepped inside, head slightly bowed, clutching a notepad as if she needed a reason to be there. Andrew watched her. Her calm exterior only made the guilt tighten in his chest.
"You called for me, sir?" she asked softly.
Andrew rose from his seat. "Yes. Close the door."
The click of the door sounded louder than usual. Selina swallowed, suddenly aware of how quiet the room was.
Andrew took a few steps toward her, his expression unreadable. "You seemed… off earlier," he began. "Did something upset you?"
Selina blinked. "No, sir. Everything's fine."
"Fine?" He scoffed slightly. "You dropped the files like they were on fire, and you couldn't even look at me."
Her lips parted. "It was just… unexpected."
Andrew studied her face. He wanted to ask why it mattered to her, why that small moment had shaken her. But he couldn't. Instead, he said, "So you're angry at me now?"
Selina frowned, her tone clipped. "Why would I be angry, Mr. Vele? I'm your secretary, remember? What you do is none of my business."
Andrew took another step forward, closing the distance between them. Selina instinctively took a step back until her back brushed against the edge of his desk. His tall frame loomed over her, his eyes dark but soft at the same time.
He lifted his hand—hesitant at first—then traced the side of her face with his fingers. Selina froze. His touch was warm, deliberate, his thumb brushing over her jawline with quiet intensity.
"Then why does it look like it is your business?" he murmured, voice low and husky.
Selina's breath hitched. "What… what are you doing, Andrew?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly, though she tried to sound firm.
He didn't answer. His gaze traveled from her eyes to her lips, lingering there for a moment that stretched far too long.
"I don't know," he admitted finally.
His hand moved from her cheek, down the side of her neck, tracing the edge of her collarbone. Selina's eyes fluttered shut for a second before she snapped them open, confused by her own reaction.
"Stop," she whispered, but her voice lacked conviction.
Andrew's fingers slid lower, brushing the soft fabric of her blouse, then tracing the line of her thigh where her pencil skirt began. His mind screamed at him to stop, but his body ignored every warning.
"Andrew," she breathed out, her tone sharp now, but still shaky. "What do you think you're doing?"
He froze at the sound of her voice—her real voice, not the gentle tone she used at work, but something stronger. He blinked as if waking up from a trance.
"I…" He stepped back, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"
Selina looked down, her heart racing so fast she thought he could hear it.
"Forget it," she said quickly, trying to sound calm, though her cheeks burned.
Andrew turned away, pacing to his desk. "You can… go back to work," he said, his tone quieter than usual.
Selina hesitated for a moment, then turned toward the door. Her hand lingered on the handle before she spoke without looking back.
"You don't have to apologize, sir. I understand."
When the door closed behind her, Andrew exhaled deeply, leaning against the desk. His reflection stared back at him from the glass wall—confused, guilty, and longing all at once.
He pressed his fingers against his temples. "What the hell am I doing?" he muttered.
Outside, Selina sat down at her desk again, typing aimlessly. But her thoughts were nowhere near her screen. She touched her face where his fingers had been and whispered under her breath, "You really need to stop feeling this way, Selina."
Both of them sat separated by glass wallstrapped between what they shouldn't feel and what they already did.