-Xu Jiao-
A few days had passed since Kim Minsu first stepped into my office. At first, I told myself it was nothing more than curiosity — an itch of amusement at how a secretary could be so composed, so unnervingly meticulous. But now, as I leaned against the edge of the cafeteria counter, coffee in hand, I realized I had been lying to myself. Every glance she threw my way, every precise movement, made my pulse quicken more than it had in years.
She sat at the far end of the table, papers spread neatly in front of her, typing lightly on her laptop. Her posture was perfect, elegant, professional — a mask. Yet I could see the subtle cues: a flicker of impatience when the line of people moved slowly, the barely perceptible tilt of her head as if measuring the room, assessing me. I didn't want to admit it, but I was already caught in her orbit.
I had begun my small investigation. Not for the thrill of curiosity — though, admittedly, that was part of it — but because something about her unsettled me. Her résumé was impeccable, her references glowing, yet there were gaps, inconsistencies subtle enough that a casual observer would not notice. A name changed here, a date shifted there. Nothing alarming, but enough to make me lean in, to want to learn more. I could tell she wanted to hide something, and that made her infinitely more dangerous… and fascinating.
I set my coffee down deliberately near the edge of the table, just close enough that if she reached, our fingers might brush. It was almost a game, a test of boundaries. And when it happened — a brief, accidental touch as she handed me a file — my chest tightened in a way I had not experienced in a long time. The warmth of her fingers lingered against mine, and the world seemed to pause for a heartbeat. She looked up, eyes meeting mine, calm and unreadable, and I knew I had been noticed.
"Thank you," she said softly, her voice neutral, almost indifferent. But the curve of her lips betrayed nothing, hiding whatever reaction she had to that fleeting contact. I wanted to ask if she had felt it, the same spark I had, but the professional mask remained.
I found myself doing the unthinkable: repeatedly asking her to join me for lunch. Always under the guise of discussing files, of strategy, or simply catching up on departmental changes. Each time, she politely declined, citing workload or deadlines. And yet, each refusal only pulled me further in. I could feel the pull in my chest, a magnetic tug I hadn't expected. The office noticed — whispers, glances — but no one spoke aloud. And yet, from the corner of my eye, I caught Victoria watching.
Victoria, the assistant from Canada who had grown up here, was nothing if not perceptive. Her sharp gaze lingered a moment too long when I interacted with Kim. Subtle, silent, precise — the same traits that made her an excellent assistant. Today, she tilted her head as she approached the table where Kim sat.
"You two working on something interesting?" Victoria asked lightly, her tone casual, but her eyes held a faint scrutiny that did not escape me.
Kim's posture remained immaculate. "Just discussing workflow optimizations," she replied, never looking up, typing as if Victoria were air.
Victoria raised an eyebrow, offering a thin smile. "Maybe I should join you, then," she said, glancing between us. Her words were innocent enough on the surface, but I caught the subtle undertone — a test, a probe.
I leaned back, smooth as ever, hiding the jolt I felt from Kim's mere presence. "I think you should," I said, with a smile that could charm a room. It wasn't a command; it was a challenge.
As Victoria pulled up a chair, I couldn't help but watch Kim. Her expression remained neutral, but there was a flash of something — curiosity, maybe wariness — that sparked behind her calm exterior. That tiny flicker sent a shiver down my spine. My mind raced: who was this woman, really? Why did she seem untouchable, yet draw me in more with every passing hour?
I had to remind myself: I am Xu Jiao. I am the man in control, the one who runs empires, who makes decisions that others fear. Yet in this moment, I was no longer certain of control. I found my gaze lingering, my chest tightening with an attraction I had not planned for, one I knew I could not fully resist.
Even in the bustling cafeteria, surrounded by colleagues, the tension between us was electric — silent, unspoken, dangerous. A part of me wanted to cross the line, to test her, to see what reaction I could provoke. Another part of me, the part that still valued reason and discipline, whispered to tread carefully.
And yet, as I sipped my coffee, my eyes traced the line of her jaw, the curve of her neck, the way her fingers danced over the keyboard, I realized I had already lost that control. The chase, the curiosity, the magnetic pull of her composure — it was intoxicating.
Victoria noticed my gaze linger. Her lips pressed together, almost imperceptibly, as if she knew something was stirring beneath my polished exterior. Perhaps she did. Perhaps she was already thinking ahead, calculating her own role in this unfolding game. That small smile, just at the corner of her mouth, suggested she was aware of my growing fixation.
I straightened, smooth, effortless — projecting authority while internally unraveling. My instincts told me to pull back, to remind myself of boundaries, but the sight of Kim Minsu sitting there, composed and untouchable, made the thought laughable. My body betrayed me before my mind could catch up.
When she finally looked up, our eyes met, and a spark of recognition passed between us — not of knowledge, but of understanding. I wanted to test her, to see how far I could go without revealing myself. Yet something restrained me: the thrill lay in the slow burn, the tension that neither of us fully acknowledged but both felt.
I knew Victoria would watch, that others would whisper quietly in the background, and that everyone in this room could sense something shifting. But I did not care. Kim Minsu was a mystery, a puzzle I could not resist solving. And every polite refusal, every careful glance, only made the game more intoxicating.
By the time lunch ended, I realized something terrifying and exhilarating: I was already drawn in. Not by her beauty alone, nor by her poise, but by the way she challenged me, the subtle strength beneath the calm exterior. I wanted to know her secrets. I wanted to see her carefully constructed mask crack — just enough — so I could glimpse the woman behind it.
And yet, I would play the game with patience, because with Kim Minsu, nothing could be rushed. Everything had to be measured, calculated, deliberate — even the desire that burned quietly under my skin.
As she gathered her things, Victoria sliding into place as her polite proxy, I watched them both. A flicker of amusement and danger ignited in me. The game had begun, and this time, the rules were different. I was no longer entirely in control — and I loved every second of it.
The day had started like any other, with meetings, memos, and the endless hum of executives moving through the glass corridors of the Xu Corporation Tower. And yet, from the moment I saw Kim Minsu enter the building, the familiar order of my world shifted. She moved through the office with a quiet confidence, papers in hand, delivering information with the sort of precision that usually bored me to distraction — but not today. Today, every little detail drew my attention, and I couldn't stop myself.
I had been trying to keep my curiosity professional, telling myself that her poise was impressive, nothing more. But there was something in the way she carried herself — subtle, almost imperceptible signs of intelligence and caution — that suggested she was hiding more than her résumé revealed. I had no idea what, exactly. Yet the gaps, the slight inconsistencies in her history, gnawed at me.
I found myself walking past her desk more often than necessary, claiming to check files or ask for updates. Each time, she maintained her composure, never looking flustered, never giving the slightest hint that she noticed my interest. It made me want to push harder.
At mid-morning, I caught myself lingering at the edge of the cafeteria line, where she stood balancing a tray with grace. Our fingers brushed briefly as I passed her, an almost accidental contact — just enough to ignite the spark that had been smoldering since our first touch.
The warmth of that moment lingered longer than it should have. My mind, usually a steel trap of logic and strategy, betrayed me, replaying that fleeting brush over and over. I wanted to ask her if she felt it, if she noticed how my pulse had spiked, but I didn't. I didn't dare give away that I was unraveling. That was not Xu Jiao's way.
Instead, I invited her to lunch. Again. Under the pretense of reviewing quarterly reports. And again, she declined, her calm professionalism unshaken. Every polite refusal was a challenge, a test of patience I had never known I could lose. I wanted to see her again, to probe the boundaries of this strange attraction, and yet, I had to keep my mask of authority intact.
Victoria noticed. Of course she did. She always noticed. The subtle glances I cast in Kim's direction, the faint lingering at her desk, the unguarded way my attention followed her movements — nothing escaped Victoria's sharp eyes. Today, she had hovered just far enough to catch the tension, her lips pressed in that thin line of observation she always wore when she suspected something.
"Lunch, sir?" Victoria asked as I moved past her desk, trying to catch Kim alone. Her voice was casual, teasing, but her eyes were pointed, precise.
"I…" I hesitated, caught off guard. Victoria's presence was both helpful and dangerous. She could mediate, intervene, or pry too far. My glance slid toward Kim, who was busy arranging documents on her tray, seemingly oblivious to the silent storm around her.
"I think I'll manage," I said smoothly, but the words were measured, almost too casual. Victoria arched an eyebrow. "If you say so," she said lightly, as if accepting defeat while storing a quiet observation for later.
And yet, as I watched Kim find a table alone, I felt the pull — the magnetic draw of someone who should have been beneath notice, yet held my attention like gravity. Every line of her posture, every tilt of her head, every deliberate action in this crowded cafeteria felt like a message I was meant to decode.
I reminded myself: she is a secretary. Nothing more. But my body, my mind, even my carefully cultivated sense of control, disagreed.
After lunch, I found excuses to pass her desk again. A file here, a question there — nothing overt, just enough to gauge her reaction. She maintained her composure, a slight arch of her brow when she noticed me lingering, but no more. That tiny flicker, subtle as a candle flame in a dark room, made my pulse race.
Victoria's presence lingered in the periphery, watching, weighing, calculating. She didn't say anything, but I could feel her observing every move, every glance, every subtle tilt of Kim's chair. I wondered if she suspected the magnetic pull between us — the way I found myself drawn to Kim even as I tried to remain professional.
I excused myself to the break room, pretending to check something trivial, and found myself reflecting on the absurdity of it all. I, Xu Jiao, the man who controlled empires, who had never been caught off guard by anything in my life, was undone by a secretary. A secretary with too-perfect poise and an aura of mystery I could not define.
Her secretive composure was intoxicating. Every refusal, every carefully measured word, was a challenge I couldn't resist. I had begun to imagine what lay beneath her calm exterior — not just professionally, but personally. There was something there, something she was guarding, and the idea of uncovering it sent a thrill through me.
And yet, I knew I had to tread carefully. She had presence, intelligence, and a calm I had not encountered in years. One wrong move, one overt push, and she could see through me, disappear into her own carefully constructed world, leaving me frustrated and intrigued in equal measure.
The day drew on, and I found excuses to linger in places where she would be — by the printer, near the conference rooms, along the corridors that cut through the heart of the office. Every brief contact, every glance exchanged across the room, was a spark. And every time I felt it, Victoria's subtle, scrutinizing gaze reminded me that someone was watching, measuring me, cataloging the subtle changes in my behavior.
By late afternoon, I realized something I had not intended: I was no longer just curious. I was captivated. Completely, utterly captivated. I wanted to know more, to see the subtle shifts in her demeanor, to test the boundaries of this strange dynamic, to understand the mystery she carried so effortlessly.
Victoria watched me as I returned to my office, her expression a mask of professionalism, but I knew better. She was aware that I had begun to bend my own rules, to act in ways that were uncharacteristic — lingering too long, observing too closely, drawn to someone I had no reason to be drawn to.
I settled behind my desk, feigning focus on reports, but my thoughts were elsewhere, replaying every detail of the day. Every brief touch, every glance, every measured refusal from Kim Minsu. I had to remind myself: nothing was what it seemed. She was professional, polite, and careful — and yet she had already infiltrated the space where I normally held complete dominion.
As the sun set, casting long shadows across the sleek floors of the Xu Corporation Tower, I realized that patience would be key. I would not rush this, no matter how magnetic her presence had become. Every glance, every brush of fingers, every polite refusal was a move in a larger game — one I intended to play with precision, confidence, and the faint thrill of losing control.
Victoria noticed my lingering gaze one last time as she passed my office on her way out. She didn't speak, didn't comment, but the slight tightening around her eyes suggested she knew something was stirring — something I hadn't intended to show anyone. But she didn't know Kim's secret. None of them did. Not yet.
And that was exactly how it should stay.
I leaned back, fingers steepled, a faint smirk playing at my lips. Patience, I reminded myself. Control — as always — was mine to wield. But in the quiet corners of my mind, I admitted a dangerous truth: Kim Minsu was already in control of me.
And I didn't want to stop her.