Tempting the Boundaries

Routine Reigns

Raheem's POV

The scent of fresh-ground coffee drifted through the kitchen as I flipped the page of the Financial Gleaner. The numbers were up again good.

I took a slow sip from my mug, appreciating the silence. No noise, no rush. Just me, sunlight pouring through the glass doors, and the sound of jazz humming low from the speaker on the counter.

This was my rhythm. Wake before the city. Eat. Read. Think.

The omelet on my plate was still hot, perfectly folded made just how I liked it. I didn't cook, but I knew how to keep a kitchen staff that listened. My housekeeper, Mavis, was already gone for the morning. She knew I valued space.

After breakfast, I took the stairs up to my ensuite, unhurried. I didn't like chaos. Never had.

The shower steamed up quickly. I stood under the hot water, hands braced against the marble tile, letting the tension roll off. I had a full day ahead board meetings, investor calls, then a site visit to the new commercial plaza my team was developing in Mandeville.

By the time I stepped out, the steam had softened the air. I wrapped a towel around my waist and wiped the mirror clean. My reflection stared back neatly trimmed beard, faint lines at the corners of my eyes, sharp jaw. Thirty-five. Still climbing.

I dressed in a charcoal suit, navy tie. Classic. Clean. Understated power.

My phone buzzed just as I was sliding on my watch.

Allyson (8:15 a.m.):
You're late.
Want me to warm up your office seat, boss?

I smirked. Allyson was many things efficient, sharp, bold. Too bold, sometimes. She'd been working under me for three years. About six months in, "working under me" started meaning more than just a job title.

I didn't mix business and pleasure.

I grabbed my keys and headed for the door.

My office downtown was perched above the skyline, glass-walled, modern, expensive but not showy. I built this company from the ground up. Johnsons Enterprises wasn't just a business; it was my legacy.

📍Johnsons Enterprise @7:45 am

"Good morning, Mr. Johnsons," the receptionist greeted as I walked past.

I nodded once, then stepped into my private elevator. It opened to my top-floor suite, where Allyson was already leaning on the edge of my desk, tablet in hand, skirt a little too tight to be standard.

"Took your time this morning," she said without looking up.

"Coffee still hot?"

"For me or for you?"

I gave her a look. She grinned, pushing off the desk and handing me the day's schedule.

"You've got a 9:30 investor check-in, then a lunch at Sora with the real estate partners. I also flagged the marketing reports from the tech branch. Numbers are off."

I scanned the tablet. "I'll look at the reports later. Push the investor call to ten."

She raised a brow. "Special reason?"

"Just not in the mood to start with suits who can't read numbers without panic."

She laughed. "Noted."

She turned to walk away, and I let my eyes follow for half a second longer than I should've.

Control, Raheem.

This thing with Allyson it was a convenience. A good one. But I never let it get messy. She knew the rules. Work came first. Always.

I glanced at the city through the glass.

The world outside was moving fast. But I was always one step ahead.

What I didn't know then what I had no way of knowing was that the real disruption hadn't even entered my life yet.

Not until her.

I spent the rest of the morning buried in calls, contracts, and numbers exactly how I liked it. Order. Efficiency. No room for emotion.

By midday, I was seated at Sora, the rooftop restaurant that doubled as neutral ground for high-stakes deals. Mandeville's top real estate developers sat across from me, all smiles and shiny cufflinks. But beneath the smiles, I saw it the hunger.

Everyone wanted something.

Me? I just wanted things done right.

I signed the deal after dessert. Another plaza under Sinclair Enterprises. Another project on track. Another win.

By the time I returned to the office, the sun had dipped low behind the hills. I stood by the window, jacket off, sleeves rolled, sipping a fresh espresso.

Allyson came in without knocking.

"You were quiet at lunch," she said.

"I was thinking."

"About work or something else?"

I didn't answer. Just looked out at the city lights blinking on one by one.

She walked over and stood beside me, her shoulder brushing mine.

"You ever get tired of it?" she asked.

"Tired of what?"

"All this." She gestured around the office. "The grind. The deals. The image."

I glanced at her. She wasn't just talking about work. Not really.

"Discipline doesn't get tiring," I said. "It gets results."

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Still a lonely way to live."

I didn't respond. What was there to say? She wasn't wrong. But I wasn't ready to trade control for comfort. Not now. Maybe not ever.

So I finished my coffee. Told Allyson to lock up on her way out. And went home to my quiet house, my untouched bedroom, and my uninterrupted silence.

For now, that was enough.