She knocks on the door awaiting permission to enter, but no response comes, so she infers Kilam must have already left. She cracks the door open slowly and slips into the shadowy room, lit only by moonlight streaming through the windowpanes. She strides over to the large desk at the far end of the vast room, straightens the papers strewn about, and retraces her steps toward the door.
"So stealthy!" A deep, raspy voice emerges from the darkness.
"AAAAAAH!" She screams, startled by the sound.
"You slink in like a thief, silent, as if to steal," he says, advancing slowly towards her.
"I only brought this week's reports, nothing more. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm leaving." She opens the door, but he pushes it shut again.
"Mr. Pagano, my workday ended long ago, I need to go home to my children," she says, trying to open the door.
"Or perhaps there's a man waiting for you?" He murmurs close to her ear.
"If there is, it's none of your business," she retorts angrily, turning to face him.
He presses her against the door with his tall, powerful frame, eliciting an involuntary low moan from her; his face draws nearer to hers, but she shoves him away, flings open the door, and rushes out of the room, grabbing her bag on the way to the elevator. As the door closes behind her, he strides towards her swiftly, but the elevator door shuts just in time. She dashes to her car and speeds away from there as fast as possible.
"Sorry I'm late, Mom," Arya says as she settles into a chair, resting her forearms on the counter in front of her.
"That's alright, my daughter, you look quite worn out today!" The older woman says, heating up pots on the stove.
"So much work, I got a month's worth done ahead," Arya lays her head down on her arms.
"But he shouldn't be demanding so much from you, dear!" Her mother exclaims with concern.
"The truth is, I did it on my own to prevent future issues, and I've always had this habit from my old job. Tire myself out today to avoid fatigue later," she says, laughing.
"Well, you know best, but don't do it too often, or you might end up with burnout, and you've got two children to raise," the older woman sets a plate of food in front of her daughter.
"Oh Mom, you wouldn't believe how hungry I am. The only thing I've had since lunch is three cups of coffee," she says and begins to eat.
Arya finishes her meal and decides to sleep at her mother's house since the children are asleep and it's quite late. She showers and lies down in her old bed, as the kids have fallen asleep with their grandmother. As she lies there, the earlier image of Kilam pressing her against the door with his body, his shirt half-unbuttoned, hair tousled, and the fierce gaze of a predator eyeing his helpless prey, his breath faintly smelling of whiskey, his woodsy cologne, his half-open mouth drawing closer to hers, comes to mind.
"How can I be smitten with that brute? I've always kept my feelings in check. Even with Noam, I didn't despair when we broke up. Ugh, this is too much," she buries her face in the pillow. Her phone rings – it's Kilam's number.
"This must be a joke, at this hour? It's one in the morning, doesn't this guy have a life?" she rejects the call, but the phone rings again.
"Hello?"
"Good evening! Sorry for calling at this hour, but Mr. Pagano is too drunk to drive, and I can't get a hold of anyone else to pick him up," the man says awkwardly.
"Not even his fiancee?" she asks, a bit hopeful.
"Sorry, her number just goes to voicemail," he replies, and Arya exhales in frustration.
"Fine, send me the address. I'm on my way," she hangs up.
She takes a moment to rise, her phone beeping with the address of the bar where Kilam is located. She puts on light jeans shorts, a black t-shirt, sneakers, ties her hair in a bun, and throws on a thin cardigan despite the warmth. She passes by her mother's room, who is still awake, and informs her.
"Mom, something came up – my beloved boss got wasted, and the poor waiter can't get through to anyone else," she whispers to avoid waking the children.
"My child, you deserve a raise, your boss surely knows how to make use of his employees," the elder chuckles.
"Kisses, I'll probably head straight home afterward, I don’t want to wake you up."
"Just take your keys, after all, they should be with yours by now, be careful."
She leaves her mother's house for the bar, situated quite far away. As she drives, she listens to her music, singing along and trying not to be angry about having to leave at such an hour. She arrives at the exceedingly chic bar, attracting stares from all around due to her 'simple' attire, while everyone else is adorned in clothes that are visibly expensive and overly stylish. A young waiter approaches, giving her a disdainful once-over.
"Entrance in that kind of attire is not permitted, kindly leave the premises," he says smugly, and Arya massages her temples.
"Take a good look at my face. Do I look like I want to be here? No, I was in my delightful bed after a hellish day at work, but someone from here had the audacity to call me at one in the morning, disturbing my well-deserved rest, to pick up my inebriated boss. So please, show me to Kilam so that I can get back to my bed and finally rest!" Her voice drips with sarcasm as she unleashes the frustration she's been holding in.
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