The conference room was cold that morning, the kind of cold that made the air feel too still.
The blinds were half-open, letting streaks of sunlight fall across the long table.
I sat at the corner beside Clara, helping her run the slides while she led the presentation.
Kennedy sat across from us, calm as ever, surrounded by other board members.
He had that still expression again, the one that gave nothing away. Yet every now and then, I could feel his eyes on me.
At first, I thought I was imagining it. Maybe I was too aware of him.
But when I glanced up while scrolling through the slides, his gaze was already there, steady, sharp, unmoving.
My throat went dry.
I looked away immediately, pretending to adjust something on my laptop.
But every time I tried to focus on the screen, I could feel him still watching.
It was strange. It wasn't the kind of stare that made you uncomfortable; it was the kind that made you forget where you were.
Clara's voice floated across the room, confident and clear, but my mind kept drifting.
My heart was beating a little too fast for no reason.
When the presentation finally ended, everyone clapped lightly.
Kennedy nodded, gave a few short comments, then stood up.
His voice was calm and professional as he dismissed the meeting, but when his eyes passed over me again, I almost forgot to breathe.
After everyone started leaving, Clara handed me a stack of files.
"Elena, please drop these off at Mr. Peters's office," she said, already turning toward the hallway. "They're for his signature."
I nodded. "Alright."
I walked down the quiet hall.
The air smelled faintly of coffee and the soft polish they used for the floors.
My heels clicked lightly as I stopped by Kennedy's office door. I hesitated for half a second, then knocked.
"Come in," his voice came from inside.
I pushed the door open and stepped in.
He was standing by his desk, sleeves rolled up, tie loose, looking through a file.
When he looked up, his eyes caught mine again, that same unreadable stare.
"Mr. Peters," I said carefully, holding up the files. "Clara asked me to drop these off."
He didn't answer right away. He just looked at me. It wasn't rude; it was focused, too focused. Finally, he spoke.
"You didn't reply to my message," he said.
For a moment, I froze. "Oh… I—I saw it late. I got home really tired yesterday."
He said nothing.
His gaze stayed on me a second longer before he took the files from my hand.
His fingers brushed mine for the briefest moment, not long enough to mean anything, but long enough for my stomach to twist in confusion.
"I expect your report this evening," he said finally.
"Yes, sir."
"Good."
That was all. He turned his attention back to the papers, and I quickly left before my heartbeat gave me away.
Back at my desk, I tried to drown myself in work. But my mind wouldn't stop replaying that look. It wasn't only strict; it was curious. Like he was trying to figure me out.
I thought of my stepmother's voice that morning before I left home, the sharp tone, the reminder that I was wasting my time.
"You'll never get your mother's company back,"
Her words still burned somewhere deep inside me. I clenched my pen and whispered under my breath, "Watch me."
I wasn't going to stop.
No matter how dangerous it felt, no matter how much Kennedy Peters confused me.
I needed something that would expose him. Something that would bring everything down.
The day dragged on.
When evening came, I finished typing the report and printed it out. My hands felt oddly heavy as I carried the file down the hall again.
His office lights were still on.
I knocked softly.
"Come in."
When I walked in, he was standing by the window, his back to me.
The city lights glowed faintly through the glass behind him. He turned around slowly as I stepped closer.
"I brought the report, sir."
He didn't say anything. He just nodded once, then walked over to me. I expected him to take the file, but he didn't.
Instead, he walked past me and quietly closed the door. The sound of the latch clicking made my heart skip.
He turned back, his face calm but his eyes darker than before. He started walking toward me, each step deliberate, slow.
I didn't know what to do. Something in his expression made me instinctively step back. My pulse quickened.
"Mr. Peters?"
He didn't answer.
He kept walking closer, his eyes holding mine. I could barely breathe.
I took another step back, then another, until I felt the edge of his desk behind me. My hand brushed the surface. I had nowhere else to go.
He stopped only a few inches away. The air between us felt heavy.
"You shouldn't stay late in this building," he said finally, his voice low, controlled. "It's not safe."
"I... I was just finishing the report."
He leaned forward slightly, one hand on the desk beside me. Then the other. His arms caged me in, his presence so close I could barely think.
"You shouldn't be in places you're not authorized to enter," he said quietly. His tone wasn't angry, but it carried weight.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I didn't mean to cross any line. I was just trying to understand some figures. They looked strange."
His gaze didn't soften. "You don't need to understand everything. Not yet."
I swallowed hard. "Yes, sir."
For a moment, silence stretched between us. The hum of the air conditioner, the faint ticking of his wristwatch, everything felt louder.
He raised his hand and rubbed his finger on my jawline
I stared at him, my eyes wide up, my lips parted but no words came out.
"There's something about you, Elena."
He said my name in a way that made it sound different. Personal.
"What, sir?"
He straightened slowly and stepped back, giving me space to breathe.
I quickly placed the file on his desk and straightened.
He rounded the desk, he took the file and opened it.
"You didn't get it right, Elena,"
He has never complained about my report before, why now?
"I can correct whatever you think is wrong,"
He stared at me, silence filled the room. Then he stood up and walked to me.
"Not now, not here," He said as he placed his palms on mine
I knew what he meant by those words.
I thought for a while, I can't have a relationship with my boss. He is married even though rumour has it that he'd soon divorce her. Still I can't.
But I remembered my mom's words, I had to take what belongs to me and the only way to do it to find something I can use against the Peters.
For me to do that, I have to get close to Kennedy.
I looked up and again and stared at him. "When do you want the corrections, this night, at my mansion."
I swallowed hard. I knew it was more than correction. I thought for a moment, what he was up to. Was it what I thought it was or something else.
Rumour outside has it that he is a dangerous man, he never forgives his enemies. Could he have found out who I was. Now he wants to deal with.
My mind raced with lot of possibilities but before I could think, my mouth finally parted.
"Fine," I said.
He stepped back and stared at from my head to feet in a way that made feel uncomfortable.
"Meet me outside, we'd leave together."
I nodded then turned to leave.
As I walked out, I could still feel his eyes on me.
Outside, the night air was cool against my skin.
His car was already parked waiting for me at the entrance.
I entered the car and it sped off.
He didn't take his gaze off me until we got to his mansion.