the World o

s's

s like me. As I walk up to the reception counter, the chilly marble flooring mirror my timid steps. The receptionist do

and my voice seems too lo

The walls are a bright white color, and the air smells like expensive cologne and cold, shiny metal.

o be. At last, I get to a door at the end of the hall. A man with broad shoulders and a towering frame stands at the door. He is wearing a t

at his desk with his hands behind his back and his gaze on the skyline outside, not on me. His presence fills the room, and I feel a peculiar pu

gh the space between us. He doesn't say anything; he ju

han," and his voice is soft, l

talk right away. He just stares at me, his gaze steady and almost predatory. I

oice, like a whisper that

at he says. Before I can think about it, my legs move, and I sit down on

the air. I feel like people are judging me not only on my skills but also on who I am. The quiet between us gets thicke

n I am. His presence is so strong that it fills the area around him. E

s not a suggestion. It's a

voice seems too loud, and my words are

waiting for me to catch up. "Get me coffee," he sa

pects everyone to do what he says. I've heard of people like him before, but the way

getting up as soon as t

heart. Alex is still behind me, and he can't stop looking at me. There is somethin

ftly as I push the button, and the smell of fresh coffee fills the space between us. My han

ing closer behind me, but I won't turn around. I don't know wha

he murmurs softly, like honey flowi

ion to it anymore. His presence is making the space feel more smaller, like it's bearing down on me. My h

gers touch his. The touch sends a wave of fire up

eeps looking at me, as if he is giving me a command. "Thank

hasn't raised his voice once, yet in this quiet room, every wor

ll ever be able t

. I feel like I'm walking on glass every time I move in this office. There is no place fo

I can hear is the subtle scratch of my pen as I fill out yet ano

range that he always appears to know where I am and what I'm doing, even when

ng at the door to his office, and his piercing eyes are fixated on me. His stare

ack to my desk, hoping he didn't see how I reacted. I try to concentrate on what I'm doing, b

mall. My heart races. What is he

trolled, like everything else in this facility. He s

clicking hard on the floor makes me nervous. As I approach towar

y breathing so my hands don't shake. The closer I approach, the more

g second. The quiet between us is dense and hard to breathe in. He doesn't move or even

ays in a low, slow voice. It's a basic

rder. "I'm just trying to keep up with ev

he's studying me, looking for something concealed in the way he looks at me. He says, "You'r

ng me up. That's odd. I work in places where people chat, make noise, and move about

nder control," he adds again, looking at my ha

ing everything I can. But I can't think of the right

a few inches from mine. His breath is warm on my skin, and my h

but firm voice. "Take it easy. You aren't ju

I can feel the tension in the room, and my stomach is turning as