The soft hum of the office lights filled the near-empty building as Liliane leaned against the doorframe of her private office, her green eyes trained on the younger woman working late at her desk. She was focused, seated under the soft glow of a desk lamp, her fingers deftly typing away on her laptop. Liliane had lingered tonight under the pretense of reviewing quarterly reports, but now, with just the two of them left, her carefully constructed walls began to crack.

Liliane pushed off the doorframe, her heels clicking faintly against the marble floor as she approached the desk. Her movements were deliberate, her usual composed demeanor now infused with an almost predatory confidence. As she neared, the younger woman glanced up, startled by the intrusion, though Liliane’s lips curved into a slow, subtle smile.

“Still at it,” Liliane noted, her voice low and smooth, almost a purr. She tilted her head slightly, her black hair cascading over one shoulder as she rested a manicured hand on the back of the chair. The proximity was deliberate; Liliane could feel the faint rise of warmth between them, a charged silence stretching thin.

She allowed her gaze to linger, her green eyes drinking in the woman’s features. There was something intoxicating about this moment—no boardrooms, no audience, just the quiet intimacy of a late-night office. It was a rare crack in the armor she so meticulously wore, one she found herself willing to exploit.