Chapter 5
Freya POV:
I stayed in the stall for a long time before I finally forced myself to come out.
I splashed cold water onto my face repeatedly, desperate to numb the heat.
Eventually, I gathered the courage to look up and face myself in the mirror.
My eyes were red and swollen.
The phantom sensation of his fingers still lingered on my skin—warm and unnervingly gentle.
I traced the line of my cheek where he had touched me, and my breathing fractured all over again.
By the time I composed myself and walked back toward the sales floor, Harvey was just coming out.
He locked his eyes on me.
I kept mine fixed on the floor.
We brushed past each other in the doorway.
He faltered for a fraction of a second, but I quickened my pace.
I was in full retreat.
Back at my desk, I buried myself in work.
A chat window popped up on my screen.
It was him.
[We need to talk.]
The dull ache returned to my eyes.
I grabbed a tissue, blotted away a stray tear, and typed back:
[Sorry. Professional matters only.]
There was nothing left to discuss.
I didn't want to recount the tragedy of my last two years to him.
I didn't want him to know how hard I’d fought just to crawl out of the wreckage.
That was in the past.
And so were we.
--
The previous Director had been laid-back.
The pressure was low, and the workflows were casual.
That was the only reason a rookie like me had survived.
He was a nice guy, even if he couldn't hit the numbers the board wanted.
Harvey had been there for exactly one day, and already new policies were dropping like clockwork.
Evaluations, KPIs, mandatory strategy sessions... everything was more complex, more rigorous.
Our workload had effectively doubled, and the office was buzzing with whispered complaints.
Deep down, I knew his methods were superior.
I knew I’d grow faster under his system.
But because of our history, my gut twisted in resistance to every new rule he announced.
After finishing a client’s needs analysis, I got up to clear my head.
My legs, however, seemed to have a mind of their own.
They carried me straight to HR.
I hesitated at the door before stepping inside.
Alia, the HR specialist, was a friend.
I leaned over her cubicle and lowered my voice.
“Alia, I wanted to check on the procedure for a resignation...”
She looked up from her monitor, startled.
“What is going on with Sales? You’re the third person to ask today. Is the new Director that bad?”
I gave her a tight, forced smile.
“It’s just... the pressure is a bit much.”
Alia giggled.
“He’s a legend, Freya. The board moved mountains to headhunt him. The firm even had to pay out a massive buyout fee to his old company.
“Besides, he’s young and gorgeous. I’m thinking of transferring to Sales myself.”
Her eyes were gleaming with interest.
I swallowed my disappointment.
“Right. Got it.”
“If you’re serious about leaving...” Alia’s gaze suddenly shifted past my shoulder. “Mr. Tamer?”
My chest tightened.
Harvey was standing right behind me.
I turned to bolt, but he blocked my path.
“My office. Now.”
Alia gave me a sympathetic grimace and buried her head back in her work.
When I got back to the sales department, I crawled back into my cubicle instead.
I wasn't going into that office.
The shirt incident had been humiliating enough; I wasn't going to subject myself to a sequel.
A notification pinged on my monitor.
[Get in here.]
A wave of resentment washed over me.
I let the cursor blink for a long minute before I typed my response.
[We can talk here. I’m not stepping foot in your office again.”]
The other side went silent for a beat. Then:
[Strictly business.]
He’d definitely overheard my conversation with Alia.
This was going to be an interrogation.
I took a breath—whatever.
I was leaving anyway; what was he going to do?
I knocked and entered.
He was typing away, eyes fixed on the screen.
Without looking up, he gestured for me to sit while he finished his task.
There was no denying it: he had this magnetic, aggressive pull when he worked.
That sharp, focused intensity made him even more dazzling than he’d been two years ago.
I walked over and pulled out the chair across from him.
“Mr. Tamer. You wanted to see me?”
I intentionally left the office door wide open.
The sight of my colleagues bustling around outside was the only thing keeping me grounded.
He glanced at the open door, clearly clocking my move.
He stopped typing and slid the folder I’d turned in earlier across the mahogany.
“I looked over your proposal.”
I leaned back and crossed my fingers.
“Let me guess. You think it’s trash.”
He gave me a polite, hollow smile.
“Your self-assessment is remarkably accurate.”
I jolted upright, the words out of my mouth before I could stop them.
“I worked my ass off on that. I spent weeks on that strategy.”
He looked at me, his voice so flat it was dismissive.
“Effort doesn't equal excellence. Like I said—you’re a rookie.”
“You’re really going to dismiss my value? I’m the top-ranked seller in this office.”
He let out a short, soft laugh, as if he were watching a child try to explain the world.
“That’s your interpretation. Being number one here... it doesn't mean much to me.”
He dragged out those last few words.
They were quiet, but they hit me like a sledgehammer.
My hard work meant nothing.
I suppose in his eyes, my love hadn't meant much, either.
A sharp sting bloomed in my chest.
I balled my hands into fists.
“Fine. Since my ‘limited abilities’ aren't up to your standards, just fire me and be done with it.”
His eyes turned cold.
“This sales team is nowhere near where it needs to be. I don't give up on employees, no matter how subpar they are.”
He turned the monitor toward me.
“And stop being so emotional about it.”
That was the match in the powder keg.
“Emotional? I put everything into that draft, you call it garbage, and I’m not allowed to feel anything?”
I stood up so abruptly the chair shrieked against the floor.
“Mr. Tamer, I am clearly never going to meet your expectations.
“If you’re as smart as everyone says, you know exactly what the solution is.”
I didn't bother lowering my voice.
As I turned to leave, I saw half the office staring through the open door.
I marched toward the exit.
“Get back here.”
His voice was low, vibrating with a power that made my stomach drop.
I kept walking.
The next second, his hand clamped around my arm, and I was hauled back into the chair.
I let out a sharp cry of surprise.
He let go instantly, a flash of hesitation flickering in his eyes.
I glared at him, trembling.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
He paused for two seconds, then shoved the keyboard and mouse toward me.
“Fix it.”
I curled my lip.
“No way.”
He leaned in, cloaked in a chilling, heavy authority.
“Do exactly what I tell you.”
My chest constricted.
The man standing over me was a stranger.
His dominance, his control, his suppressed rage—it was suffocating.
My fingertips turned to ice, and I gripped the edge of the desk just to stay upright.
The commotion had brought the office to a standstill; my coworkers were watching us in stunned silence.
Harvey straightened his lapels and walked to the door.
Slam.
The sound of the door closing made my heart leap into my throat.
He stood two paces away and spoke with a cold finality.
“Fix the proposal.
“Now.”