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I nod, gesturing for her to take a seat. "Thank you, Amara. I appreciate your promptness."
She hands me the files, our fingers brushing briefly. I feel a jolt of electricity at her touch, a reminder of the intimacy we shared just hours ago. "Is everything alright, sir?" she asks, with one eyebrow cooly raised. "You seem distracted."
I can hardly stifle the laugh. She knows damn well why I'm off my game today. Yet her professionalism is like a playful slap in the face, teasing what’s to come if I catch her alone.
I sigh, leaning back in my chair. "I'm just thinking about the Hawthorne account. It's a big one, and I can't afford to mess it up."
Amara nods, her expression understanding. "I know how important this is to you, Grayson. To the company. But I also know that you're more than capable of handling it."
I smile, warmed by her faith in me. "Thank you, Amara. Your support means a lot to me."
She reaches across the desk, taking my hand in hers. "We're in this together, Grayson. No matter what happens, I'm here for you."
I squeeze her hand, feeling a sense of calm wash over me. "I know, Amara. And I'm here for you too."
We sit there for a moment, lost in each other's eyes, the rest of the world fading away. But then, reality comes crashing back, and I reluctantly pull my hand away.
"We should probably get back to work," I say, my voice hoarse with emotion.
Amara nods, standing up to leave. "Of course, sir. I understand."
As she walks towards the door, I can't help but admire the sway of her hips, the grace of her movements.
Damn it, I need to focus. I can't let myself get distracted, not now.
But as the door closes behind her, I find myself wondering if it's already too late. If my feelings for Amara have already taken root, too deep to be ignored or pushed aside.
I shake my head, turning back to the stack of papers on my desk. I have work to do, a company to run. I can't let my heart get in the way of my head, no matter how much it may want to.
But even as I try to focus on the task at hand, my mind keeps drifting back to last night. The way her nails dug into my back when she came. The way she screamed my name. We were way past professionalism then, and my mind couldn't stay focused wondering if it would happen again.
To say nothing of the way she makes me feel, the way she sees me in a way no one else ever has. She’s more than just a work-wife, meeting my every need in the office. She sees the other needs, the things a man can’t just ask for.
And as much as I try to fight it, I know that I'm falling for her. Falling hard and fast, with no safety net to catch me.
As I sit in my office, going over the final details of the Hawthorne account, my phone buzzes with an incoming call. I glance at the screen, my blood running cold as I see Sophia's name flashing across the display.
I answer the call, bracing myself for the inevitable drama. "Sophia, what do you want?"
Her voice is sickly sweet, dripping with false concern. "Oh, Grayson, I just thought you should know about your precious little toy’s past. I've uncovered some rather unsavory details that I think you'd find quite interesting and I came to you right away. I’m so sorry, darling, it’s like I said. We belong together."
I feel a knot forming in my stomach, my mind racing with the possibilities of what Sophia could have discovered. Then my better judgment kicks in. "Sophia, I'm not interested in your games. Amara is a valued member of my team, and her past is none of your business."
She laughs, a cold, cruel sound. "Oh, but it is my business, Grayson. You see, I have proof that your darling Amara isn't quite the innocent little lamb she appears to be. In fact, she has a rather sordid history... one that could ruin both of you if it ever came to light."
I take a deep breath, trying to keep my composure. "Sophia, I don't believe a word you're saying. You're just trying to stir up trouble, to get back at me for ending things between us. I said it before and I’ll say it again, we will never be together again. I don’t care what you or anyone says, it’s not happening."
"Believe what you want, Grayson," she purrs, her voice dripping with malice. "But check your email. I think you'll find the evidence I've gathered to be quite compelling."
With that, she hangs up, leaving me staring at the phone in disbelief. A moment later, my computer chimes with an incoming email. I click on the message, my heart sinking as I see the subject line.
Amara's Dirty Little Secret
With trembling fingers, I open the email, my eyes scanning the contents rapidly. Sophia has included several documents and images that appear to show Amara in compromising situations, engaged in activities that could ruin her reputation and career.
But as I look closer, I start to notice inconsistencies in the evidence. The dates don't line up, the images look doctored, and the details just don't add up. I feel a sense of relief wash over me, followed quickly by a surge of anger.
Sophia is trying to manipulate me, to use my feelings for Amara against me. But I won't let her succeed.
