You’re Late Doll by lyds_luvs_u

As she watched the numbers on the display lighting up, indicating the steadily climbing elevator, she felt the nervosity growing with each passing second. Like a balloon, it swelled, until it took up all space in her, the pressure uncomfortable and threatening to pop any minute.

Two businessmen stood in front of her, chatting away pleasantly, but even she couldn’t concentrate on any of the words they said. It was as if she were underwater, all sounds other than the rapid beating of her heart and her shallow breaths were muffled by the pressure surrounding her.

Try as she might, she just couldn’t stop worrying, and tapped her foot impatiently. She closed her eyes, and willed herself to travel one hour in the future, when she would be back home, happily finishing whatever task she’d abruptly abandoned upon noticing the time. She had completely forgotten the time, only to see that it was an hour later than the time she’d promised him to be at the office, and had then been stuck in traffic for another hour trying to rush here.

Holding her breath, she counted to three before opening her eyes. Of course, all that greeted her was the sleek, wooden interior of the elevator.

Feeling foolish, she mentally reprimanded herself. She got herself into this by not setting an alarm, and no amount of wishful thinking would get her out of this.

She glanced at the watch strapped to her wrist and cursed under her breath. She was almost two hours late by now; well over his lunch break.

She wondered whether he was extremely angry with her. After all, tardiness was one thing he loathed, and this wasn’t even the first time she was late.

She cringed as she recalled the time she’d fallen asleep and had arrived half an hour later than agreed, two years ago. He’d been mildly irritated then, but had been understanding since she had just come down from a grim bout of the flu. She didn’t imagine telling him that she’d lost track of time due to her painting her nails would go over well.

Gripping the lunch bag tighter, she glanced at the two men. She wondered if they ever felt as anxious as she did at that moment, whenever attending an important meeting. She grimaced. She could hardly compare the two situations. For one, they had nothing to worry about, except for not pulling off a convincing performance, whereas she knew she was already in trouble.

The elevator continued ascending.

She clenched and unclenched her fists, glanced at her watch yet again, but then refrained when she noticed the ticking of the second pointer was doing nothing but heightening her nerves. Finally, she smoothed out the skirt she’d haphazardly thrown on while rushing out the door. Dismayed, she noticed that the length was a bit too short for comfort.

She started tugging at the hem, but it only caused her to lose grip on the folder clenched under her arm. Mortified, she watched as it clattered onto the floor, and blushed furiously when the conversation between the two men stopped abruptly. She made a grab for it, and avoided eye contact with anyone, and the men resumed their conversation. Still embarrassed, she stared at the floor until the elevator slid to a halt.

The bell dinged, and the doors smoothly glided open. The remaining two men stepped out. When the doors slid back in place, shutting out their voices, she realised that she was all alone. The silence that now surrounded her, jostling her like a mass crowd, was deafening.

Shivering, she watched as the numbers rose. She felt like a gladiator being released into the colosseum, about to face a bear or a tiger. Just that the only weapons she donned were the flimsy, plastic folder and the lunch bag that was slowly growing slick from the sweat gathering in her palms. She sighed. Far from the lethal weapons she’d need to defend herself with.

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Ding!

The opening doors gave way to a tastefully designed reception area. On the left, the wall was made of glass. The afternoon sun sat high in the sky, casting a golden glow on both the room, and the bustling city 42 storeys down below.

Inhaling deeply, she stepped out and nodded at the young, pretty girl behind the reception. She smiled back at her, but it did nothing to soothe the fluttering in her stomach. Placing one foot ahead of the other, she steadily walked past the reception and down a dimly lit hallway, a stark change in looks and atmosphere from the sunny reception area. At the end of it, was a heavy, mahogany door. This was it.

She stopped just outside and stared at the almost black panels indecisively for a moment. She’d probably get away with it if she just handed the things to the receptionist and told her to pass them on to him, and she was tempted to just turn around and do just that.

But that would mean risking him being even more irritated later on.

She wanted to scream. If only she’d remembered to set the damn alarm!

Taking a deep breath in, she raised her knuckles and knocked gently at the door. Knowing that she wouldn’t get an answer, and even if she did, she wouldn’t hear it, she waited a few seconds before pushing the door open and stepping in.

She saw the desk first. The huge, imposing desk she personally theorised was made to intimidate anyone sitting across from him. And evidently, she thought, shivering, it worked.

Behind it, he sat, tall and confident. Slightly gazing down at him as he comfortably sat in his plush leather chair, she felt as if she’d just walked into the lion’s den.

Despite her being taller than average, and the fact that he was sat, she still felt so small. It wasn’t just the matter of difference in height, it was his presence in general; Simply gazing at him was intimidating.

He was just like a mountain, oozing cool confidence and indifference. She felt as if her knees were about to give way just by being in his proximity.

Stepping further into the room, she closed the door behind her. She gulped. Despite the receptionist sitting not even 10 metres down the hall, she knew firsthand that no sounds could breach the heavy walls of his office. If she screamed, nobody would hear her.

She was fully on her own now.

A chill full of dark pleasure raced through her, but she shook it off and tentatively stepped towards him.

Eyes cast downwards, he paid her no mind as he continued typing away on his computer.

She ran a gaze down the length of his body. The pristine white shirt did nothing but enunciate his lean, but defined, muscled arms, and she watched them flex while typing. She guessed he’d laid his black jacket on the couch in the corner of the room, like he always did whenever he was working. The navy tie he wore drew her eyes lower, but the heavy desk obscured the tipped end of it.

Her mouth went dry, and she licked her lips to wetten them. Raising her eyes, she quietly observed his concentrated face. His dark brown hair was immaculately styled, as per usual. A single lock had escaped, and she resisted the overwhelming urge to cross the room and run a hand through his hair, mussing it up even more.

She gulped. How could someone so intimidating still look stupidly attractive?

Not sure on whether or not she should say something, she awkwardly continued standing in the middle of the room, patiently waiting for him to address her.

She finally opened her mouth to say something, but abstained when the telephone rang. He picked up, barked out a few blunt commands into the receiver before hanging up.

Gripped by a new wave of nervosity, she opted to stay silent. He didn’t seem to be in a particular good mood, and she didn’t want to ruin it any further.

Slowly, her mind drifted to other things. It was a while before he cleared his throat, snapping her out of her daze. Fixing her posture to stand up straight, she finally noticed the ache in her legs from standing in place for too long.

Raising her eyes, she started when she met his dark gaze. He was staring intensely at her, seeming to drink up her appearance. He reminded her of a wolf sizing up his prey before pouncing, going for the kill.

Her throat went dry. Still, she never broke eye contact, steadily matching his intrusive stare. For a while, neither one said anything, just watched the other in silence.

Defiantly, she cocked her head, feigning confidence she most definitely did not possess in that moment. For a second, she could’ve sworn that the corners of his lips turned up at this, but then he refocused his gaze on his computer and began typing anew.

Another chill ran through her, stopping at her core. Did he see through her bluff? He always seemed to be able to, anyway. Had he been mocking her with his almost-smirk? He could’ve been. It was too brief, a fleeting moment she didn’t have enough time to judge.

The silence stretched between them, heightening each and every one of her senses. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for a possible way to get out of this, to stop her legs from shaking like leaves on a branch during a harsh storm.

“You’re late.”

Two words, spoken in a completely apathetic tone, as if he couldn’t care less about her delay. And yet, it did nothing to tamper down her fight or flight senses. She knew better than to trust his lies. Her mind was working in complete overtime now, trying to form an appropriate response that would not anger him. For she knew that, despite the indifferent appearance, he was boiling under his skin, that he would utilise his every opportunity to make her tremble in turn for riling him up.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Her heart dropped. Her voice was shaky, betraying her feigned confidence. She knew that he would revel in it, would even pride himself in being able to inflict fear in her, even after all this time.

He didn’t glance up from his typing while talking to her. Probably better. She was already wracked with perturbation, and trying to maintain eye contact with him would reduce her to nothing more than a stuttering mess, so she looked down at the floor ashamedly.

She heard him sigh, then the sound of the wheels of his chair rolling back on the carpeted floor.