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Determined to reclaim control over my emotions, I spend the rest of the week focusing on self-care and introspection. I drink good wine, eat just the right amount of cheese, and work out in the pool like a demon possessed.
Whether Lycus chooses to resurface or not, I refuse to let his actions derail me. And when Monday rolls around, I’ll march into the office with my head held high, ready to confront whatever challenges lie ahead between us.
Lycus may have ghosted me, but I won’t let him haunt my thoughts any longer. It’s time to take back control of my own narrative.
* * *
As I tread the familiar path to the office, the azure sky above offers no solace for the tempest raging within me. Despite the gentle caress of the morning breeze, my mind churns with apprehension, each step a heavy burden weighted by uncertainty and dread.
The unexpected respite of this week off should have been a reprieve, a chance to escape the suffocating tension that has come to define my interactions with Lycus. Instead, his absence only serves to amplify his presence, his name a relentless echo in the corridors of my mind.
Lycus – my adversary, my competition, and dare I admit it, the one who pushes me to do better – is never far from my thoughts and instead of coming into work today refreshed, rested and ready for the client meeting, my insides are in turmoil.
The lines between animosity and affection between us blur with every passing moment, a tangled web of emotions I struggle to untangle.
As I approach the office building, a knot forms in the pit of my stomach, tightening with each passing second. The receptionist’s words – that Mr Mortimer is in the conference room – send a ripple of apprehension coursing through me, setting my nerves ablaze with anticipation.
I’m early. I’m always early for work. So why do I feel wrong-footed and on edge?
Heart pounding, I make my way to the conference room, each step a silent prayer for strength and clarity. What awaits me behind those closed doors? Answers, perhaps, or only more questions to add to the growing pile of uncertainties that weigh heavily on my shoulders.
When I finally reach the conference room door and tentatively knock, the muffled voices within send a shiver down my spine, anticipation coiling tight in my chest.
Mr Mortimer’s invitation to enter is met with a hesitant nod from me, even though no one can see it, my hand trembling as I push open the door and step inside.
The tableau before me steals the breath from my lungs, a scene straight out of a nightmare. Mr Alpine, our esteemed client, sits at the head of the table, his features etched with concern as he gazes upon the spectacle before him.
Beside him stands Mr Mortimer, a stoic figure of authority, his eyes betraying a hint of apprehension beneath the facade of professionalism. And there, seated amidst the chaos, is Lycus—my enigmatic counterpart, his usual air of confidence replaced by a mask of pain and vulnerability.
My heart lurches in my chest at the sight of him, concern warring with trepidation as I take in the sight of his battered form. His leg, encased in a cast, bears the weight of his injuries, while cuts and bruises mar the once pristine canvas of his features.
“Lycus! What happened?” I breathe, the words escaping my lips in a hushed whisper as I struggle to comprehend the gravity of the situation before me.
But before Lycus can respond, the room is plunged into darkness, the whirring hum of the projector signalling the start of a revelation I am ill-prepared to face. My blood runs cold as I watch in horror, my breath catching in my throat, as the projector screen comes to life, casting a ghostly glow over the room.
A second later, the speakers crackle and sound floods the room. The faint echo of familiar music fills the air, accompanied by the murmur of voices. It’s the audio from CCTV footage—the same footage that now plays on the projector screen before us.
My heart plummets to the pit of my stomach as I watch in horror, my eyes widening in disbelief at the scene unfolding before me. There I am, illuminated by the dim lights of the Wicked Temptation party, a vision of reckless abandon and unbridled desire.
The blood drains from my face as I hear my own voice—husky with desire, laced with intoxication—calling out to the mysterious stranger who now stands before me. Every word, every touch, every sound of pleasure laid bare for all to see.
I shrink back against the door, the weight of humiliation bearing down on me like a leaden cloak. How could I have been so foolish, so reckless? And now, with the truth laid bare for all to see, there’s nowhere to hide from the shame that threatens to consume me whole.
But as the footage continues to play, a new revelation emerges…one that sends a shockwave of betrayal coursing through my veins. Lycus – the very man I’ve spent countless hours sparring with, the man I’ve come to loathe and begrudgingly admire and even care for – is none other than the stranger I spent the night with.
Sir.
The realisation hits me like a sucker punch to the gut, leaving me reeling with a mixture of disbelief and anger. How could he? How could he deceive me like this, manipulate me into revealing my most intimate desires only to toss me aside like yesterday’s news? How could he show this to our boss? To a client? Why would he do that?
“Stop this! Turn it off!”
Lycus jumps to his feet, wincing in pain as he demands they turn off the footage, his voice laced with desperation and frustration. But it’s too late—the damage has been done, the truth laid bare for all to see.
There’s no denying that I’m the woman in the footage, or that Lycus is the man. And as if that weren’t bad enough, when Lycus hastily turns off the projector, he must accidentally catch one of the other buttons because the volume suddenly increases and the sounds of us fucking fill the room. Loud enough to fill the whole office I fear.
I turn to face him, my eyes blazing with fury and betrayal.
As the truth of Lycus’s deception sinks in, a torrent of emotions threatens to overwhelm me. Betrayal, anger, and heartache swirl together in a tempest of confusion, leaving me gasping for air in the suffocating confines of the conference room.
