Carter

My boss, Carter, is the kind of man you don't enter without knocking and leave with your knees shaking. An icy stare, a voice that turns his subordinates into pillars of salt. I was afraid of him like fire.

To top it all off, my personal life fell apart; my boyfriend and I were arguing to the point of a “bombshell.”

And it had to happen today of all days. The secretary called me to see him. "Urgent." I walked in, prepared for a dressing down, but when he started talking strategy, I lost it. I hissed, argued, gesticulated—I acted like a fury.

And then I noticed: he was silent. He just sat and watched. Not staring, but observing. Like he was watching a dangerous experiment.

His lips twitched. The corner of his mouth curled upward. Carter, that ice-cold block, looked at me with a predatory grin.

He stood up slowly and walked around the table. I froze to the floor. His closeness was like an electric shock.

“What?” I breathed out.

The next second, he grabbed me by the waist and sat me down on the counter against the wall. He grabbed my arms and pinned me to the wall above my head. I was trapped. His face was so close that I could smell perfume, coffee, and power.

"What, your boyfriend won't let you have it?" he whispered against my lips, grinning. "It's okay. I can solve this problem."