The Line You Crossed

Anton’s POV

I was pacing up and down in my office. It had been a week. A week without looking her in the face or speaking a word to her. Just emails. It was supposed to be what she wanted—space. I was giving her the life she wanted, or so I told myself.

But I knew what I saw that day. She was with Matt. That incurable bastard. He did it again—charmed another staff member. And to my complete surprise, he actually succeeded this time. I never expected that. I thought Alice was different. I thought she could resist his fake smiles, his rehearsed charm. I thought she could draw a line.

I was a fool.

Why did I ever expect something different? A woman is a woman. They never change. A few fake gestures, some hollow compliments, and they're yours. Just like my mother fell for that ridiculous underwear model and walked out on us like we were just a phase she got tired of. She didn’t even look back. After that, I stopped expecting loyalty from women. Love wasn’t something real—it was just another excuse to leave when things stopped being easy. No woman was different. Not even Alice.

No woman is different. Not even her.

And yet, I couldn’t help myself that day. I opened the blinds. I don’t even know what made me do it—what twisted impulse compelled me to look.

She was sitting at her desk, surrounded by papers, barefoot again. Damn those small feet of hers. And my fucking foot fetish.
I should’ve looked away. Closed the blinds. Called her in and reminded her this was a workplace. But I didn’t. I stood there. Watching. Pacing. Seething. Because it wasn’t the feet. It was her. The way she just… existed. Like none of this touched her. Like she didn’t know she had me by the throat without even trying.

Her tiny toes buried in the plush office carpet, her delicate neck bent over spreadsheets, her hair twisted into a bun with pencils stabbed through it like some messy work of art. Her little nose scrunched beneath her too-large glasses.

She was a masterpiece. Something you’d pay to see in a museum and still not get enough.

I didn’t know whether to keep watching or pull the blinds shut. And then he appeared—my idiot brother. Her lover.

He walked in like some carefree hippie who’s never had a real problem in his life. And she lit up. Beamed at him. She hadn’t smiled once in the past week, but now she was glowing—as if he’d done something to deserve it.

They flirted in front of my eyes. Smiles. Glances. Go ahead, have sex on the desk while you’re at it.

Then a thought wormed its way into my brain: *What makes you think they haven’t already?*

That did it. Rage flared through me like a fire igniting from my spine up to my temples. I slammed the blinds shut.

I paced again. I could have called her in. I could have reminded her what I said on her first day: no office romances. I’m not a man who tolerates such behavior.

So I picked up the phone and dialed her desk. No answer.

I opened the blinds again—and saw she had already left. With Matt.

A blaze lit in my chest. Who did she think she was? And why the hell was I letting a girl—*this* girl—get to me like this?

I was Anton fucking Alonzo. I didn’t pine. Especially not over a girl pathetic enough to fall for Matt’s shallow tricks.

There was only one thing left to do.

Fire her.

\---

Alice’s POV

You’re fired.” I blinked.

“What?”

“Oh, don’t act surprised now.” His voice was razor-sharp, his eyes unreadable.

“You think playing innocent makes you untouchable?”

“Sir, I don’t understand—”

“Of course you don’t. You just happen to have my brother in your apartment in the middle of the night, and you don’t understand.”

He leaned in. “I told you, Alice. I don’t tolerate office romance. Especially when it turns into a pathetic soap opera I have to witness through my office window.”

“Nothing happened—”

“I don’t care what did or didn’t happen. I care about appearances. I care about rules. And you—” he pointed at me, slowly—“broke both.”

“The very first moment you stepped into this office, I warned you about office romances and how unacceptable I find them. I’ve reminded you. Especially about my brother. Yet you continued to see him. I understand now that you’re either unwilling or incapable of following company conduct.

And I cannot work with you under these circumstances.” He paused, then added.

“Furthermore, neither can any affiliate or department connected to this company. Your name will be blacklisted from all associate networks.”

Suddenly, it felt like the walls of the office were closing in on me. My chest tightened. I tugged at the collar of my shirt, trying to get some air.

His eyes flicked to my neck for a brief second. Something dark passed over his face—something predatory. His gaze gleamed like black jewels, dangerous and cold.

“Sir, please don’t do this,” I said, swallowing my pride. I thought of my sister’s college tuition. Of my father’s debt. I wasn’t above begging—not anymore.

“What you’re doing isn’t just firing me—it’s marking me. It’ll be impossible for me to find work again. Please, I’m asking you for mercy.”

“Mercy?” he echoed, voice low.

He leaned forward on his desk, his eyes locking on mine with laser focus—as if he were savoring every second of my humiliation.

“Yes, sir. I’m not involved with anyone—not your brother, not anyone else. Please believe me.”

“Oh? Is that why you invite coworkers into your apartment in the middle of the night? That’s your idea of professionalism?”

“He just came over to talk. To support me. That’s all.”

“Support I offered as well—and was rejected,” he snapped.

He was being impossible. Unreasonable. But I was running out of options.

“Please, sir. Fire me if you must. But don’t blacklist me. Please.”

“So you can go work with my brother again?”

So that’s what this was. None of this was about me. It was about Matt. All of his anger, his bitterness, his cruelty—aimed at his brother. I was just the collateral.

I tried one last plea.

“I promise not to apply to work with Mr. Matt again. Please, sir. I’m begging you.”

He licked his lips—for just a split second. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was turned on by the begging.

“I can offer you a compromise,” he said slowly. “You’ll stay. But only until I find a new assistant. And you’ll never see my brother again. If you do that, I won’t blacklist you.”

I hesitated.

“How am I supposed to keep him away from me?”

“That, Ms. Wonderful, is your problem. Do we have a deal?”

What other choice did I have?

“…Deal,” I said quietly.

“Excellent,” he said with crisp satisfaction. “Now, create a job listing for your replacement and inform me when we have enough applicants.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied, numb.

“You may leave now. Close the door behind you.”

And so I did. Leaving the room—and my dignity—with him.