Worker Bee: The Revenge Ch. 03

Keisha gasped, shock freezing her as she tried to push back. Her hands pressed against his chest, her head twisting, but Jake only pulled her closer, his hand sliding behind her neck to hold her in place. She struggled for breath, finally wrenching free with a sharp turn of her head.

"Jake, what are you doing?" she whispered harshly, her chest heaving. "There are cameras here."

"Would you relax?" Jake countered, his smile edged with mischief. "Nobody's going to see those."

Her cheeks flushed, her eyes darting once more to the ceiling corners of her office. "We agreed to keep things professional here."

Jake's fingers brushed her blouse buttons, undoing them one by one, his movements slow, deliberate. "Where's the fun in that?"

She caught his wrist, her grip trembling with half-resistance. "My husband will be here any minute."

Jake's smile deepened. "Let him watch."

Her breath hitched, her lips parting in disbelief, but underneath the protest a flicker of something else stirred in her eyes. She stared at him, at the blouse now gaping at her chest, and her thoughts scattered.

Two months ago her life had been neat. Work, husband, steady routines, a future plotted in small, careful steps. Then Jake Blackwood arrived, dragging a storm behind him, unraveling every rule she thought she lived by. In two months she had gone from lecturing him about discipline to standing here with her blouse half-open, her pulse racing, and the taste of his kiss still burning on her lips. Her mind wandered backwards in time.

Two months ago.

Ronald dropped her off like always. He kissed her cheek, told her he'd pick her up at six, and waved as she slipped through the revolving doors. A perfectly ordinary morning, the kind of ritual she had built her life on. Marriage, work, balance; it all clicked together like clockwork.

But that morning was supposed to be different. Her team was getting a new member. A man.

Keisha couldn't wrap her head around it. Their boss, Ava Adams, Mrs. Adams to everyone, was the kind of woman who lived and breathed female empowerment. A principled feminist, unflinching, vocal, proud. She had built the company into a haven for women in tech. The kind of place where you didn't have to apologize for being a woman in a male-dominated field. And yet... a male hire. Keisha tried not to dwell on it, but curiosity stuck like a thorn.

She shook her thoughts off as the elevator doors slid open. Her heels clicked across the polished floor toward her office. And then she saw him.

Tall. Athletic. Not lean, not hulking, but balanced. He looked up from his seat as if he had been waiting for her. Their eyes met, and he stood, smiling in a way that felt practiced yet genuine at the same time. She didn't know why it made her chest tighten.

The next day, she caught him slumped in his chair, asleep at his workstation. Irritation flared hot and immediate. Deadlines loomed, and Mrs. Adams herself had told Keisha that this new hire was supposed to carry his weight from day one. So she let him have it. Sharp words, clipped tone, reminding him of responsibility and expectation She went all out. He sat through it all without argument, without even blinking. When she finally ran out of scolding breath, he only turned his monitor to her.

"Check my progress."

Her stomach dropped. He was two hours ahead of schedule.

Embarrassment burned up her neck. She muttered something and escaped back to her glass-walled office, cheeks hot, but every so often her gaze drifted back to him. The way he leaned into his code, focused, unshaken. He worked like a machine, but one that chose when to power down. A coffee in hand, a stretch, a moment's quiet, then back to it with unnerving precision. He was gifted. And she knew it.

The following days she tried to avoid him, too embarrassed to face the memory of her misplaced lecture. But Jake wouldn't allow it. He cornered her in the elevator, easy smile cutting through her stiff posture, words brushing the awkwardness aside like it had never existed. And somehow, after that, they were friends. Or something close enough to it.

Keisha found herself laughing at his quips, leaning on his attentiveness, feeling her workload grow lighter because of his sheer efficiency. With Jake there, she saw her chances of finally outpacing Nicole, the other team leader who had always overshadowed her. But it wasn't just strategy. He was charming. Unexpectedly funny. A distraction she didn't realize she needed.

Two weeks passed like that, until the deadline came. Friday.

The whole team traveled to New Haven for an onsite demonstration of the property management system they had built. The client was satisfied, the demo smooth, the trip a success. Relief surged through her, the kind that made her want to sleep for days. Then came the client's offer: stay the night at the hotel, all expenses paid to celebrate.

Her instinct was to refuse. She was married. She was a team leader. But when the entire team looked at her with pleading smiles and chants of "come on, just this once," she folded. One night couldn't hurt.

That evening they all went to the bar. Keisha was not a drinker, and a few glasses left her light-headed. For the first time since she joined the company, she saw her team let loose. Dancing, laughing, swaying to the music. And Jake; Jake was the center of it all. A party animal, spinning one developer across the floor, pulling another into rhythm, drink in hand, grin wide. He looked like he belonged everywhere at once.

When it was her turn, he held out his hand. That smile, playful and relentless, made refusal impossible. Keisha drained the last of her drink and let him pull her in.

The jazz beat carried them, the bar's golden light spilling over the floor, and for once she stopped thinking about Ronald waiting back home, about deadlines and rivalry and Mrs. Adams. She laughed, she swayed, she let herself feel the warmth of his hand at her waist.

Then she glanced back at their table. Her team was slumped over, half-asleep, drinks abandoned. The sight jolted her, reminded her of herself, of propriety, of lines. But Jake's voice came low and firm.

"Don't look away. Keep your eyes on me."

And she did. His breath warm with alcohol, his skin damp with sweat from the dance, his chest pressed close. The room spun a little, or maybe it was just him.

Then his lips were on hers.

Her mind blanked. Heat surged, shame, shock. She tore herself away, heart hammering, and bolted back toward the table.

Later, shepherding her drowsy team upstairs, she felt him behind her, silent, watching. Every step up that hotel hallway she could feel his gaze burning into her back, peeling her bare. She had never felt more exposed.