Lethal Transactions of the Corporate world.

The corporate Charade.

In the world of business, situation ships can be complex.

Lena Westwood wasn’t meant to be seen. In fact, her presence at the high-stakes merger negotiation meeting was purely functional—she was there to take notes, pour coffee, and vanish into the corporate wallpaper like any other secretary in the lower rungs of the pyramid. But Lena had other plans.

She was burning—no, blazing—with ambition. She didn’t just want success; she needed to taste it, smell it on her skin, feel it between her fingers like silk. She wasn’t born for the backseat. She was just waiting for the ignition.

That ignition came in a moment.

Adrian Stone—the boss of bosses, the powerbroker among giants—was deep in his pitch when their eyes met. Just a flicker. A second too long. Stone paused. Just a breath. Then smiled slightly and carried on with his flawless delivery. No one noticed. Except Lena. And Stone. The meeting ended as expected. The important people left in a wave of designer shoes and ego, while Lena gathered her notes with trembling hands and a heart racing toward destiny.

In the days that followed, nothing "happened"—on the surface. But Lena could feel the shift. That glance had stirred something in her. It was like catching a whiff of perfume and needing to know who wore it and why.

Then came the bold move. Lena, ever resourceful, somehow got Stone’s direct contact. A corporate miracle—those numbers were guarded like nuclear codes. One night, driven by nerves and adrenaline, she called.

"Hello?" a woman’s voice answered.

Lena froze. A woman. Of course—Stone was engaged. Probably married in spirit if not in law. She hung up.

“Lena, what were you thinking?” she whispered to herself, the inner angels and devils in full debate mode.

Yet something in her had awakened. Her presence changed. She sparkled. She glowed. Her colleagues asked what perfume she was wearing, what oil she used. She just smiled.

She studied Stone’s patterns. His office lights. His late nights. His favorite tie. His lunch orders. Creepy? Maybe. Strategic? Absolutely

One particular evening, she waited. Everyone had gone. Stone was on a late conference call. Lena shut down her computer, knocked gently on his door, and offered him coffee.

Stone blinked. Surprised she was still around. “Deadline,” she said with a soft smile. The scent of her lingered. Subtle. Intentional.

She placed the coffee on the table, gave him a graceful “good night,” and walked away, knowing—feeling—his eyes trailing her like a whisper in the dark.

It was nothing. But it was everything. The spark had been struck. The stage was set.

Round two came days later. Another late evening. This time, the cameras were off. Intentionally.

She walked in, coffee again, but beneath her professional blazer was not-so-professional lingerie. The stakes were high, but Lena had studied the game. Precision, not desperation.

“Hey boss, got you coffee,” she purred, leaning just close enough.

Stone froze. It was electric. His ethics short-circuited. For a moment, he forgot he had a fiancée, a code of conduct, or a functioning moral compass.

Lena turned his chair, straddling his control—not just literally. For a second, Stone was hers.

Then clarity struck.

“Stop. I could get you fired,” he said, pulling away.

She gasped. Tears welled. She begged, played the remorse card with trembling lips and damp eyes. Stone, caught between guilt and desire, dismissed her gently.

Stone couldn’t stop thinking about it. Justified it. Rationalized it. He was lonely. She was bold. It was just a moment. Moments become habits.

Soon after, Lena was summoned. Expecting a termination, she walked in like a funeral procession.

“Sit,” Stone said. She obeyed.

“Why did you do it?” he asked.

She stared at the floor. Apologetic. Silent. Internally? Calculating.

“I forgive you. Don’t do it again,” he said.

But they both knew it wasn’t over. It had barely begun.

The third stage was consent. Voluntary. Mutual. Silent, but deafening in its consequences.

From there, the climb was fast. But the damage had been done. Lena was no longer "just a secretary." She became the PA. Bigger desk. Bigger paycheck. And a bigger target on her back. She bid high, and each bid brought returns. Stone, too, found comfort in their silent transaction. Lena had become an extension of his power, and he hers.

People noticed. They whispered. But nobody dared speak up. Those who did? Demoted. Fired. Replaced. Six months in, Lena was driving into work with tinted windows, high heels, and confidence sharp enough to cut steel. Her old boyfriend? A distant memory. Friends? Replaced by expensive perfumes and whispered commands.

She was all in.

And then... one morning... Stone called her in.

“Lena, you’re fired.” Just like that.

A newer, younger “glow” had caught his eye. She forgot she was never officially hired. No contract. No guarantees. She had gambled her soul, her dignity—her very being—on a game she never controlled.

And now, the dealer had left the table.

Welcome to the corporate jungle—where the most dangerous transactions don’t happen on paper, but behind closed doors. Where ambition wears perfume, and power smiles before it devours. Lena thought she was playing the game. She didn’t know she was being played.

To be continued... in Chapter Two: The Fall, the Fight, and the Fire.