Chapter 5 Lines start to blur

On Monday morning, something had changed.

Mr. Boateng wasn't exactly warmer, but the ice was... softer. Instead of barking instructions, he gave short but clear directives. Instead of slamming doors, he left them open-literally and figuratively.

Vernissa pretended not to notice. But her heart did.

She worked harder. Smarter. With even more grace than before. And he noticed.

He didn't say it. Of course not. But she caught it in the small things:

A pause in his typing when she entered his office.

The way he no longer corrected her in front of others.

The time he waited, without saying a word, until she finished her tea before calling her in.

Respect.

It was building between them like a bridge neither wanted to name.

Late one afternoon, a crisis broke out on the 18th floor.

A client contract-worth millions-had gone missing from the internal system, and the deadline for submission was hours away.

The entire executive floor was in chaos. Assistants were crying, phones were ringing nonstop, and even the directors were sweating.

But not Vernissa.

She combed through emails, file logs, system backups-until she found it. Archived by mistake under an old file name.

She printed it, verified the signatures, and hand-delivered it to Mr. Boateng's office just as the legal rep was stepping in.

He glanced at it. Then at her.

"Problem solved?" he asked coolly.

"Yes, sir."

He turned to the room. "Crisis over. Let's get back to work."

The legal rep blinked. "Who-found it?"

"She did," Mr. Boateng said, jerking his head toward her. "My assistant."

Not the assistant.

My assistant.

That small word shouldn't have mattered.

But it did.

That evening, she was sorting his files when he appeared behind her.

"You handled today well," he said quietly.

"Thank you."

"You didn't panic."

"I didn't have time to."

He smirked faintly. "That's good. You're proving I was right about you."

She glanced up. "You never said you were."

"I don't say everything I think."

She paused. "Is that because you don't trust people?"

He stepped closer, leaning casually on the desk. "I've had to learn the hard way who's real and who's convenient."

She met his gaze without flinching. "So... which one am I?"

A long pause.

Then:

"You're becoming someone I notice, even when I try not to."

Her breath hitched. But she kept her composure.

"You shouldn't say things like that, Mr. Boateng," she said, voice quiet but firm.

"Why?"

"Because you're my boss."

His eyes darkened. "And if I weren't?"

She looked away, her chest tight.

"But you are."

The silence between them wasn't awkward.

It was thick. Tense. Charged.

She gathered the last of the files and stepped away.

"I'll see you in the morning," she said, her voice steady despite the fire under her skin.

He nodded. "Don't be late."

That night, Vernissa lay awake, staring at her ceiling, replaying every word, every look.

Something was shifting.

And she didn't know whether it was dangerous...

or inevitable.