Breach of Boundaries

A week had passed since the incident with Ryan, and though Maria had firmly put it behind her, Leonard Damarias had, unexpectedly, not done the same. Ever since that day, he seemed to appear in her office unannounced, either for their scheduled psychology sessions or, more often than not, under the pretence of needing "feedback" on the new project he had privately assigned to her.

The project was one she hadn't expected—a design initiative for a new line of high-end, custom-made vehicles that would represent the pinnacle of SERVAL's luxury brand. The secrecy around it was intense. Leonard had informed her that only the two of them would work on it, a fact that had both intrigued and unnerved her. She was a psychologist, after all; her design work had only been a passion on the side. But he insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument, and so she had accepted, intrigued by the trust he seemed to place in her.

Today, Maria sat at her desk, absorbed in her sketches for the project. She was so focused she didn't even notice Leonard's presence until he cleared his throat, making her jump slightly.

She looked up, startled. "Mr. Damarias," she greeted, steadying herself. "I didn't hear you come in."

His eyes were intense, studying her work with a precision that made her heart beat faster, though she would never admit it. He was standing a bit too close, close enough that she could catch the faint scent of his cologne—cool, crisp, and thoroughly distracting. He leaned over her shoulder, looking at the design she was working on.

"You're very talented," he murmured, his voice low, the words almost a rumble. "I made the right choice asking you to handle this."

Maria felt a spark of pride but kept her expression professional. "Thank you. I'm grateful for the opportunity," she replied, her voice steady. She held his gaze, refusing to be intimidated by his closeness, even as he didn't move back.

He studied her, a hint of something unreadable in his eyes. "Tell me about your ideas," he said, settling onto the edge of her desk, folding his arms as though he had all the time in the world. "I want to know how you see this project."

Maria relaxed slightly, leaning back in her chair as she gathered her thoughts. She began to explain her vision for the design—the sleek lines, the balance of luxury and power, the details that would make the car feel like a statement piece without sacrificing practicality. As she spoke, Leonard listened intently, his eyes never leaving her face.

For a moment, she forgot he was her boss, forgot about his reputation, and simply lost herself in the conversation, sharing her passion for design with someone who seemed genuinely interested.

"So," she finished, "I think a matte finish, maybe in charcoal or deep emerald, would make it stand out without being too showy. It should feel refined, not ostentatious."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Wow. I didn't realise design was more than just a side hobby for you."

She smiled, tilting her head slightly. "It's a passion, yes. But psychology is my focus. I'm here to work with people, unfortunately not... vehicles."

"Maybe," he said, his gaze sharpening, "but I think there's more to it than that." His words hung in the air, a subtle challenge.

Maria didn't shy away, holding his gaze calmly. "I'm full of surprises, Mr. Damarias. But I have my priorities," she said, her tone steady.

Leonard's eyes glinted with something that looked suspiciously like admiration. "I can see that," he murmured. He straightened, finally moving away from her desk, though there was a lingering intensity in his gaze. "But I'll expect to hear more of your insights. As I said, this project is between us. I want you involved in every detail."

"Understood," she replied, giving him a respectful nod. But she could sense something more beneath his words—a hint that he was not just interested in her designs but in her, in the way she held her ground without fear, in the way she refused to play the role he was likely used to seeing in others.

Over the next few weeks, Leonard's visits became a regular part of her days. He would stride into her office unannounced, casually asking for her thoughts on the project or inquiring about her own hobbies and interests. He seemed to enjoy watching her talk about things that excited her—design, photography, even the more personal aspects of psychology. He listened intently, asking questions, almost as if he found a strange comfort in her presence.

Then, one day, he asked her to come to his office to review a few design concepts. Maria didn't hesitate, though as she entered his spacious, sleek office with its floor-to-ceiling windows and panoramic view of the city, she couldn't ignore the way his eyes followed her every move.

"Close the door," he instructed, his voice calm but leaving no room for questions.

She did as he asked, then took a seat across from him, sliding a stack of her latest sketches onto his desk. "I've made some adjustments to the interiors," she began, her voice steady, professional. "I thought a touch of deep mahogany might complement the darker exterior palette."

But as she spoke, she noticed his attention drift from her sketches to her face, his gaze lingering just a second too long. When she paused, he leaned forward, his eyes unreadable.

"Tell me," he murmured, his tone quieter than usual, his voice barely above a whisper, "are you always this composed?"

She met his gaze without flinching, the corner of her mouth lifting in a small, self-assured smile. "I'm a professional, Mr. Damarias. This is my job."

Something flickered in his eyes—something sharp and possessive. He rose from his chair and walked around the desk, closing the space between them. Maria felt a shift in the air, an unspoken tension as he stood beside her, close enough that she could feel his presence, his gaze fixed intently on her.

"Does anything ever get under your skin, Maria?" he asked, his voice low and measured, his eyes searching hers.

Maria held his gaze, her voice steady. "I'm not like other people, Mr. Damarias. I know where my boundaries are."

A faint smirk tugged at his lips, though his expression remained intense. "Good. Boundaries are important." He leaned down slightly, his voice dropping to a murmur. "But I hope you know that some lines are meant to be tested."

She didn't waver, her eyes locked on his. "Not with me," she replied coolly, her confidence unwavering. "I don't blur my lines, Mr. Damarias."

There was a beat of silence, his gaze narrowing slightly as if reassessing her, the flicker of a challenge in his expression. But she didn't give him the satisfaction of a reaction, simply raising an eyebrow, waiting.

Then, as if sensing her resilience, he straightened, a faint, almost reluctant admiration in his gaze. "You really are different," he murmured, his voice almost thoughtful. "Most people wouldn't have the nerve to talk to me like that."

"I'm not 'most people,'" she replied, giving him a polite smile. "And I'd appreciate it if you remember that, Mr. Damarias."

His smirk grew, but he didn't press further, merely nodding. "Noted." He took a step back, the tension dissipating slightly as he finally gave her some space.

As she collected her things and prepared to leave his office, he stopped her with a final word.

"Maria," he said, his tone quieter, almost as if he were speaking more to himself than to her. "You have no idea how refreshing you are."

She glanced back at him, offering a respectful nod but nothing more, definitely hiding her discomfort. "Thank you, Mr. Damarias. I'll see you at our next meeting."

As she left his office, she felt the weight of his gaze on her back, an unspoken understanding between them—one of respect, boundaries, and the quiet thrill of two people who, though worlds apart, had found a peculiar kind of friendship.