The ride down in the elevator was silent.
Leon didn't touch her. Didn't even glance her way.
But Amara could feel him—his presence like static clinging to her skin, hot and charged. Her pulse hadn't steadied. Her thoughts hadn't cleared. Every part of her felt owned, and yet he hadn't even undressed her.
The doors slid open to the regular hum of the office floor. Lights. Voices. Normalcy.
But nothing felt normal anymore.
He stepped out first.
She followed.
At her desk, she sat carefully, like she needed to relearn how to hold her own body. A few coworkers walked past, oblivious. They had no idea what had just happened five floors above. What he had done to her with just words, space, and one kiss.
Leon didn't say goodbye.
He closed the door to his office and vanished into work mode like nothing had happened.
But as the hours passed, Amara kept thinking about what he'd said.
Your silence. Your stillness. Your surrender.
Was she ready for all three?
By 7 p.m., most of the floor had cleared out. She packed her things slowly, lingering. Her body still ached in places she couldn't explain. Her chest was tight.
As she stepped into the hallway toward the elevator, her phone buzzed again.
Message from: L.K.
> "You did well today.
Sleep in something silk.
Tomorrow, wear black."
That was it.
No explanation.
No good night.
Just another command.
But Amara didn't question it.
She smiled.
And obeyed.