Bound to You

Bound to You Part 10

Every meeting became a test. Enjoy would lean forward, explaining design intent, hands moving, eyes bright. June would sit perfectly still, pretending to evaluate numbers while fighting the urge to trace the sound of her voice.

She had been with beautiful people before. Competent ones. None of them had ever made her want more than obedience.

This one made her want permanence.

A week later came the team mixer. June almost didn't go; she hated evenings that blurred hierarchy. But she went because leadership meant visibility, and because, if she was honest, she wanted to see what Enjoy looked like outside of a professional costume.

She didn't have to look long.

Enjoy arrived late, the black dress simple enough to be safe, fitted enough to be fatal. The neckline was modest, the sleeves long, but the cut at her waist drew June's eyes like a secret being whispered. Her hair fell loose over one shoulder, soft waves framing her jaw.

Conversations stuttered when she entered. June pretended not to notice.

From across the room, their eyes met.
That single look felt like a held breath neither knew how to release.

Throughout the night, they orbited each other—each drawn, each pretending not to be. June smiled at donors, nodded at staff, all while keeping the edge of her attention anchored to the far corner of the room where Enjoy laughed with the creative lead.

She tried to listen to the joke from her current conversation. She failed. Her body knew exactly where Enjoy's hand rested on the table, how her laugh curved mid-syllable, how the light slid across the line of her throat.

When Enjoy tilted her head back to laugh again, June nearly forgot her own name.

Someone nearby asked her a question; she answered automatically, the words polished but meaningless.

Later, when the crowd thinned, Enjoy lingered, helping gather empty glasses. June waited until the last person left before speaking.

"You didn't have to stay."

"Neither did you."

June folded her arms. "I'm working."

Enjoy tilted her head. "So am I."

There was something in her voice that wasn't subordination. It was challenge, playful but pointed—the same tone she used when defending her design choices.

June liked it too much.

"You look..." June began, then stopped.

Enjoy raised a brow. "You usually finish your sentences."

June smiled faintly. "Not when they're unprofessional."

"That's new for you," Enjoy teased.

June stepped closer, deliberate. "Careful, Thidarut."

"Of what?"

"Of making me forget who's supposed to lead."

Enjoy's breath caught. "Maybe leadership looks different when you finally trust someone to follow you by choice."

June's chest tightened. God, this woman.
So clever, so brave, so unaware of the way she was dismantling everything June thought control meant.

June reached out, brushed her thumb along the edge of Enjoy's sleeve—barely a touch. The smallest possible rebellion.

"I trust you," June said quietly. "That's the problem."

Enjoy's eyes softened. "Then stop fighting it."

June exhaled, pulse unsteady. "I don't know how."

"Maybe let someone teach you."

It was too much, too honest. June stepped back, pulling the armor of authority around her like a coat. "Tomorrow, 9 a.m. presentation run-through."

"Yes, ma'am."

The words came half-teasing, half-true. They hit June somewhere deep, the echo of power made tender.

She turned before she could make another mistake.

When she reached the elevator, she heard Enjoy's quiet laugh behind her—warm, unafraid, devastating.

That night, June poured herself a drink she didn't finish. The apartment was too quiet, her reflection too honest.

She sat on the edge of the bed, head in her hands.
She could manage empires, crises, politics.
What she could not manage was the need to protect and possess the same person who made her want to surrender.

She thought of Enjoy's smile, her fearless insight, the way she said maybe let someone teach you.

It wasn't lust. Not just.
It was the ache of recognition of finally meeting the person who made power feel like home and danger at once.

June looked out at the city and whispered to no one,
"If I ever let go, it will be for her."

Then she set the glass aside, turned off the light, and tried, unsuccessfully, to sleep like a woman still in control.