14

My god what did you do Candice?! I try desperately to clear my thoughts, to find a sensible reasoning but it's impossible, I'm still far too intoxicated by the sight of my boss's body which was practically glued to mine just five minutes ago. The silence that reigns in the corridors and in my office does not help me chase him from my thoughts. I think back to his torso almost pressed against my chest and my hands itch.

I just want to be able to browse him indefinitely and feel the warmth of his skin against my palm. Almost nothing happened, just a few touches and an unprecedented closeness, but yet I know that everything has changed. I couldn't look Mr. Archer in the eye without blushing or approach him without shaking. He hasn't crossed any physical limits but even now that he's no longer here with me, my body is crying out for his.

I absolutely have to pull myself together before my colleagues arrive. I find it difficult to resume normal breathing, my heart regains its usual rhythm and I sit down at my desk. I spend the next hour reading my file without understanding a single word. The day is going to be long !

Around 9 a.m., after a whirlwind of unexpected emotions and an unsuccessful work session, Marina knocked on my door. She sticks her head between the door and the door frame and her usual warm smile anchors me to reality. I am at work, with my colleague and I have to be as efficient as possible.

-Hello ! How are you ? she asks me while starting a light discussion that takes my mind off things.

We continue to chat for a short time and then I broach the subject of the Dior file which we will hypothetically discuss during the meeting. The meeting ??! But how am I going to be able to sit quietly only a few feet from Mr. Archer without breaking down under his gaze? It's official, I'm finished. The prospect of participating in an interview with my two bosses, during which they will be able to admire the extent of my incompetence on this issue, has the merit of putting my ideas back in place once and for all. I try somehow to concentrate on the explanations given to me by Marina and after half an hour of taking notes I think I'm ready to deceive.

It's 10 a.m. sharp when Marina and I enter the large meeting room that had welcomed me for my first interview. The first time, I was here as a conqueror, today I shave the walls. I dare not raise my head for fear of meeting his gaze, but I quickly realize that Mrs. Saint Martin is alone in the room. I suppress a sigh of relief and sit up with a little more confidence.

-Hello Marina, hello Candice, please take a seat.

I haven't often had the opportunity to meet this woman but she has always been welcoming and pleasant. Today is no exception to the rule. She stands straight, highlighted in a chic trouser suit and a classic touch. We immediately feel all the strict and bourgeois education that she must have received. She takes the floor again to begin this meeting which has stressed me so much for the past few hours.

-I hope you had a good and relaxing weekend because we will need strength to face this coming week. Come to think of it, we will also need some for the coming month!

She pauses briefly, checks her watch, then continues her speech.

-Mr Archer informed me of an unforeseen event which will probably assign him to his office for the morning. So we'll start without him.

I have to force myself to suppress a smile of relief at those words. I don't know what can hold him back and honestly, I don't care but I'm so happy not to have to assume my behavior this morning in front of him that I would start a dance of joy if I could! Mrs. Saint-Martin does not notice my change of attitude and goes straight to the heart of the matter.

-I called you together this morning to take stock of the Dior and Royal Beauty files. As you probably already know, these two potential deals represent half of next year's turnover. So we can't afford any missteps. I confess that I was surprised that Mr Archer and Marina entrust you with such a crucial file for your Candice debut, but I now see this as proof of confidence. I hope you will be worthy of it, she finishes, staring at me.

-Y-yes of course Mrs. Saint-Martin, I start stammering. I am working hard on this file and I think I have made good progress.

-Perfect. You will explain your leads to us later, she replies gently. If you don't mind, we'll start with the Dior file. I imagine that you know the main lines Candice, Marina will therefore do without the generalist presentation to get straight to the heart of the matter.

This is how this meeting, which so distressed me, turns into an effective and relaxed work session. We spend the next hour tackling the difficulties of this file, looking for new leads and refining our strategy. My manager tells us that Marina is going on a business trip in mid-December to meet with Dior management accompanied by Mr Archer to validate the contract and the details of the next campaign they are going to run.

I am instantly relieved at the thought of finding myself several days away from him. When Ms. Saint-Martin gathers the scattered documents and closes the Dior file, I take a deep breath because I know it's time for me to show what I'm capable of. My sales manager gives me the floor to present the file and especially the approach I plan to adopt. At first she seems skeptical, as my proposals are daring, but little by little I see her face relax. She takes more and more notes while nodding and I conclude my tirade by revealing my latest findings.

-Recently, the management of Royal Beauty has put in place a new creative director who is none other than Mr Weston. I see my two listeners look up sharply at me and I continue. As you know, he is very well known in the creative world for his risk-taking and his often bold, sometimes surprising decisions. I'm sure that if we offer him a classic silk range, he won't even bother to look at what we have to offer, no matter how good our products are or how much we might charge. We have to hit hard and stand out with a new offer that goes against the grain of our competitors.

I have listed all the history of the former collections of the Royal Beauty house as well as all those directed by Mr Weston since the beginning of his career. I therefore suggest that you work in close collaboration with our creative department and our development department in order to create an original collection, specially targeted for our future client.

Once my pitch is over, Ms. Saint-Martin bombards me with questions and the adrenaline that surged through my veins during my project presentation helps me not to lose my temper. I am answering all his questions with precision when the door in front of me opens. Mr. Archer, face set and strained, enters the room with several folders under his arm. He barely gives me a look and sits next to my manager, asking her where we are. After getting a concise answer, he turns to me and asks me to continue. His eyes are impenetrable, his muscular and tense body does not seem to react to my presence and he behaves with me exactly the same way as with the two other people present next to us.

Three pairs of eyes stare at me, waiting for me to resume my speech. But how could I ignore the drumming of my heart that went wild the second I laid eyes on my boss? How could I ignore my tummy contracting at the memory of her fingers roaming the bare skin of my arm deliciously? How could I not revel in his virile and terribly intoxicating scent that invaded my nostrils? How could I hide the tremors of my limbs that crave his touch, as if they were already craving? My mind is drowning in this whirlwind and I almost faint when his deep voice cracks in the air.

-Miss Dumin, I don't have all day so thank you for quickly finishing your little presentation.

These harsh words have the merit of bringing me back down to earth. The person in front of me is not the man who made me travel in this elevator. A thought comes to mind: I don't know anything about Ethan Archer and my body was ready to give him everything this morning.

I manage to reason with myself, clear my throat and pick up where I left off. The meeting lasts another fifteen minutes during which we establish new directives. My proposals are validated and I receive the congratulations of Mrs. Saint-Martin. All the while, my mind is focused on ignoring my boss. He is also the first to leave this room, the phone glued to my ear, and I can finally breathe serenely. While directing us towards our offices, Marina takes my arm and congratulates me very cordially. At this moment, I am proud of myself because I managed to meet the almost insurmountable challenge that was assigned to me. But nothing is won, this is only the beginning.

Galvanized by the support and confidence of my management, I redoubled my determination and spent my entire afternoon preparing my brief with the creative and development teams. I can't see the hours passing, my ambition has taken precedence over my upset mind and I have rarely been so efficient on a Monday! I barely notice my colleagues leaving their offices, the premises emptying out and silence filling the corridors. Night has long since fallen when I raise my head and rub my neck. It's time for me to go home.

I stand, turn and bend down to retrieve my purse when the sound of the door slamming startles me. I turn quickly to find Mr. Archer, his hand on the closed doorknob, staring at me.

My boss is in my office. He closed the door behind him. He stares at me intensely. I am vulnerable. My body calls for these forbidden sensations. My head is screaming at me to run. I only hear my heartbeat exploding. I'm stuck between my desk and the cupboard stuck to the wall. I have no possible escape. And my executioner advances slowly but surely towards me.