20 minutes of work, maybe less. Marcus pulled out his laptop connected to the diagnostic port and started rebuilding the security protocols. His fingers moved automatically muscle memory from years of fixing things other people broke. He was almost finished when he heard it. A voice female sharp with frustration.
Finally, what took so long? Marcus' hands froze over the keyboard. He'd assumed the floor would be empty, that he'd have the place to himself. "Just needed to rebuild the security protocols, ma'am," he called back, keeping his voice professional. Everything should be functional now.
I'll run a quick diagnostic on the sensors to verify. Do it quickly. I have a press conference in 3 hours and I need to change. Marcus moved through the reception area testing motion sensors as he went. Each one responded perfectly.
Green lights confirming functionality. The CEO's suite had three main areas reception conference room private office. Two doors stood open. The third frosted glass that turned everything behind it to soft shadows was closed. One more sensor right next to that frosted glass door.
Master control for the entire suite. Marcus reached for it without thinking. It was instinct, a technician's reflex. After 4 years of checking, testing, verifying, his hand found the panel, ran the diagnostic, and then the door. He needed to test the door sensor.
His fingers closed around the handle. Pushed the frosted glass swung inward. Elena Hart stood in the center of her office, frozen mid-motion, pulling a cream blouse from a garment bag. She wore a black skirt. Nothing else above the waist except a bra so delicate it barely existed.
Her auburn hair was down falling in waves across bare shoulders. Her dark eyes went wide with shock that mirrored the horror flooding through Marcus's entire body. For one endless second, neither of them moved. Neither of them breathed. Then Marcus' tool bag slipped from his shoulder and crashed to the floor.
"I'm sorry," he gasped. "I'm so sorry. I was testing the sensors. I didn't know you were. I didn't mean get out."
Her voice was ice over steel. Quiet. Absolutely lethal. "I'm sorry." Marcus backed away so fast he nearly tripped over his own equipment.
His face burned, his heart hammered against his ribs. The door I thought it was empty. I was just checking the system. I'm so sorry. Turn around.
The command stopped him mid-retreat. Marcus spun instantly, facing the frosted glass, seeing nothing but blurred shapes and his own panicked reflection. Behind him, he heard fabric rustling, a zipper, the sharp click of buttons, every muscle in his body locked rigid. He waited for the explosion, the rage, the inevitable consequences of the worst mistake of his professional life. He'd walked in on Elena Hart, half-dressed, the CEO, the iron lady, the woman who could end his career with a single phone call.