No strings attached |(UNDER REVISION)

Chapter 7- Jealous

She chuckled, clearly entertained. "Anong kailangan mo, Ms. Navarro?"

I kept my voice even. "I don't like repeating myself, Mikha."

A pause. Then, her voice lowered, teasing. "O baka naman ayaw mo lang akong kausap si... sino nga ulit 'yun?"

My grip on my phone tightened.

"I don't care who you talk to," I said coolly. "But I do care about you wasting time when you should be working."

She hummed, as if she didn't believe me one bit.

"Sure, boss," she said, the smirk evident in her tone. "On my way."

She ended the call.

I leaned back, exhaling slowly.

Seconds later, I saw her through the glass-walking toward my office, a knowing glint in her eyes.

Damn it.

Why did I feel like I had just walked into her trap instead?

Mikha stepped into my office, moving like she owned the place. She didn't even bother hiding the smug grin on her lips as she closed the door behind her.

"Boss," she greeted, voice dripping with amusement. "Ano bang urgent matter ang kailangan nating pag-usapan?"

I leaned back in my chair, my expression blank. "Coffee."

She blinked. "Ha?"

I tilted my head slightly, raising a brow. "I want coffee."

Her smirk deepened, her eyes glinting with something mischievous. "So you called me here just to make you coffee?"

I kept my face neutral. "You're my secretary. That's part of your job, isn't it?"

She exhaled through her nose, shaking her head in mock disbelief. "Tsk. Talagang pinaalis mo ako doon para lang dito?"

I folded my hands together. "Problem?"

She chuckled, stepping closer to my desk. "Wala naman," she murmured, placing both hands on the surface and leaning in ever so slightly. "Pero alam mo, Aiah, kung gusto mo lang akong ilayo doon, pwede mo namang aminin."

I refused to react.

She smirked. "Jealousy doesn't suit you, Ms. Navarro."

I met her gaze, unflinching. "Neither does insubordination, Ms. Dela Cruz."

Mikha grinned, straightening up. "Fine. Kape lang pala ang kailangan mo, eh."

She turned on her heel and made her way to the small coffee station in the corner of my office.

I watched her as she moved, too at ease in my space, like she belonged there. Like she had never left.

I tapped my fingers against my desk, trying to ignore the way my chest felt too tight.

This was nothing.

This was business.

And I wasn't going to let her turn it into something else.

Mikha placed the cup of coffee on my desk with a little too much enthusiasm, the ceramic making a soft clink against the surface.

"Your coffee, boss," she said, her voice teasing.