It’s a lie. Her portfolio was the strongest of all the candidates. It was bold, innovative, and precisely the thinking we needed. But if I'm too nice now, she may get the wrong idea.
I need to stop noticing the way her pulse jumps at the base of her throat.
“With all due respect,” she says, her tone perfectly neutral but with an edge underneath. “You hired me based on that portfolio. If it were merely adequate, I wouldn’t be here.”
I lean back in my chair, studying her. “Are you arguing with me on your first day?”
“I’m clarifying a mistake in your assessment.”
My mouth wants to curve. I don’t let it. “The design industry is subjective. What impresses a hiring committee doesn’t always translate to real-world application.”
“Then perhaps you should be more involved in your hiring process.”
We pause, watching each other.
“Tell me, Ms. Rodgers,” I say quietly, “do you always challenge authority, or am I special?”
Her eyes widen fractionally.
“I challenge baseless assumptions.”
“Wow, I admire your simplicity when it comes to critical thinking.”
She draws in a breath, obviously fighting to stay patient. I stand then, moving to the window because I need air that doesn’t smell faintly like her perfume.
“Your first project is in your inbox,” I say with my back to her. “I expect initial concepts by the end of Wednesday. We have a client presentation on Friday.”
“That’s three days.”
“Is that a problem?”
“No.” She clears her throat. “I’ll have them ready for you Wednesday morning.”
I turn back. She is standing now, chin lifted, meeting my gaze directly.
“We have high standards here, Ms. Rodgers. Don’t disappoint me.”
“I don’t intend to, Mr. Williams.”
The formal names sit wrong between us, a flimsy barrier against the memory of skin and breath and how she’d said she wanted me.
“HR will get you set up with your workspace and access credentials. If you have questions, direct them to your team lead. I don’t have time for hand-holding.”
It is dismissive. Deliberately so.
I watch her jaw tighten fractionally.
“Understood,” she says. “Will that be all?”
“Yes.”
She turns toward the door, and I fight to keep my eyes above her waist. The door closes behind her with a soft click. I stand frozen at my desk, hands braced against the polished wood, breathing harder than I should be.
Fuck.
This is bad. This is a liability I can’t afford. She’s my employee, and I just spent three days trying to forget how she’d felt beneath me.
I move to the window, watching the city pulse below, trying to think strategically. Options. Contingencies. I need to contain this before it explodes. I could transfer her to another team, but that would raise questions, especially this soon. I could fire her, but she’s talented, and I don’t punish competence because of personal matters.
