The penthouse was quieter than usual that morning. The city below hummed with its usual chaos, but inside, the only sounds were the faint clatter of the coffee machine and my own uneasy thoughts.
Jamal had been unusually busy this week meetings, calls, and sudden trips to the office. Normally, I would have been relieved for a break, but instead, I found myself restless. The silence of the apartment felt heavier without him, the empty spaces between us magnifying my awareness of what had been slowly growing: an attraction I could neither define nor resist.
I dressed carefully that morning, selecting a simple blouse and skirt that felt professional yet understated. Every time I passed by the mirrored walls of the penthouse, I caught a glimpse of myself, and felt acutely conscious of how he might see me.
By mid-morning, Jamal returned unexpectedly. The sound of his footsteps on the polished marble floors made my pulse quicken. He was holding a folder, but his eyes immediately found mine.
"Arata," he said softly, though there was a teasing edge I hadn't heard before. "You're in early. I like that."
I blinked, unsure how to respond. "I… I thought I'd get a head start on the reports."
He nodded, studying me for a long moment. "Good. Efficiency suits you."
I felt my cheeks heat up, unsure whether the compliment was professional or something more.
Later that day, I was called into a meeting with Collin and Elena, another junior executive who had a reputation for being sharp and slightly vindictive. My stomach churned. Collin had already tried to undermine me before, and now Elena was joining the game.
Jamal didn't come with me, but I could feel his presence in my mind, the way his eyes would silently assess every detail if he were there. I took a deep breath, reminding myself that I was capable. That I had already handled him before.
The meeting started tensely. Collin smirked the moment I entered. "Ah, the new assistant. Ready to take notes?"
"Yes," I said calmly, placing my notebook on the table. "And I'll be observing everything carefully."
Elena raised an eyebrow. "You seem confident for someone who's barely been here a week."
I forced a small smile, hiding the anxiety twisting my stomach. "Confidence comes from preparation," I said, surprising even myself with the steadiness of my voice.
The meeting was a test, full of challenges, questions, and subtle digs. Collin and Elena tried repeatedly to catch me off guard, but I held my ground. I took careful notes, asked thoughtful questions, and maintained composure.
By the end, they left the room, fuming silently, while I allowed myself a small, victorious smile.
When I returned to the penthouse that evening, Jamal was already in the kitchen, preparing a late dinner. The sight of him, moving with quiet precision, made my chest tighten.
"You handled it well," he said quietly, as if reading my thoughts. "Better than I expected."
I tried to brush it off. "It was just a meeting."
"No," he said softly, stepping closer. His dark eyes studied mine, intense and unwavering. "It was more than that. You stayed calm under pressure. You observed, adapted, and responded with poise. I'm impressed."
Heat rose to my cheeks. His words were more than professional praise. They carried weight, attention, and something dangerously close to admiration.
I hesitated, unsure how to respond. "Tha… thank you," I whispered, barely audible.
He smiled faintly, a slow, deliberate curve of his lips that made my pulse spike. "Don't sell yourself short, Arata. You're… remarkable."
I wanted to look away, but I couldn't. His presence was magnetic, drawing me in, even as I tried to resist him.
That night, we shared a quiet dinner in the living room. The city lights twinkled below, casting long shadows across the polished floors. Every glance, every subtle touch the brush of his fingers when handing me a glass, the way he lingered near me was charged with unspoken tension.
I tried to focus on my food, but my mind kept drifting to him: his hands, his voice, the way he seemed aware of my every move. My pulse raced, my stomach tightened, and I realized with a jolt that I was thinking about him constantly.
"Arata," he said quietly, breaking my thoughts. "You seem… distracted."
I swallowed hard. "I… I guess I have a lot on my mind."
He tilted his head, studying me with those dark, piercing eyes. "It's not just work, is it?"
I froze. The question was direct, intimate, and terrifying. I wanted to deny it, to retreat behind the walls of professionalism and contract. But the truth was undeniable. My mind, my body, my thoughts they had all started to orbit around him.
"I… I…" My voice faltered, but I didn't lie.
For a long moment, he said nothing, just observed me with a gaze that seemed to see right through my defenses. Then he leaned slightly closer, just enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from him.
"You're dangerous," he said softly, almost a whisper. "Not because of what you do, but because… I notice you. And I can't stop noticing."
My heart leapt. Every nerve in my body was on high alert. His proximity, his words, the intensity of his gaze it was all overwhelming. I wanted to retreat, yet I found myself frozen, unable to look away.
The tension between us was thick, palpable, and undeniable. In that moment, I understood something I had been avoiding: we were both aware of the attraction, both silently testing the boundaries of what was allowed.
And the more I tried to resist, the stronger it became.
By the time I returned to my room that night, my thoughts were a whirlwind. Every glance, every subtle touch, every teasing word replayed in my mind. I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, heart racing, and asked myself the question I couldn't answer.
Was this admiration? Respect? Or something… more?
One thing was certain: living under the same roof as Jamal Yusuf was changing me, whether I wanted it or not. And every day, every moment, made me want him more, in ways I knew were dangerous.