Nicole Avery sucked in a bigger breath as she pulled the strings of the shapewear corset tighter. It didn’t seem to have made much of a difference. She didn’t see the hourglass figure that the advert had promised, she still looked a little too...curvy.

No matter. She was doing this.

She turned away from the mirror and reached for her outfit. It was a fitted business suit for a change so she knew she wouldn’t be comfortable in it all day. It was a black pinstripe business suit with a calf-length pencil skirt. She had been unsure about the stripes because she’d always read that they were a no-no if you were overweight, but the sales lady had assured her that was only a myth. Since she had spent more on that outfit than she had ever done on any piece of clothing, she had taken the woman’s word for it.

She was making a stand today, the new outfit was a necessary part of it. If she could breathe in it. As she tucked in her pristine, light blue, silk blouse, she realised she couldn’t take full breaths. Was this how it was supposed to be? Surely this corset would be against all medical advice?

Maybe she was better off sticking to her usual office wear. Why had she listened to Casey again? Her friend had a way of making her fall into her plans, and they always seemed like the best plans to start with. Why did she have to do this just to prove to everyone that she was not the least bit affected by recent events? She had never cared what people thought about her before.

Her alarm went off, telling her she had only ten minutes to leave the flat. She hadn’t even had her breakfast yet. Maybe, with this deathtrap on, it was best to skip that meal. She would have to remove it after the meeting so she could breathe properly again.

She picked her phone up and unlocked it to look again at the picture that had spurred all of this stupidness.

Her ex-husband. Sitting in the backyard of the house her parents had left to her while she had used her savings and inheritance to put him through school. Her blood boiled as she thought of how hard it had been to let go of that house when they had to sell it because of the divorce. That bastard had refused to let her buy him out, even though he had put nothing towards it. She had cried more for that house than for him.

Maybe that was why he had swooped in to buy it back the moment he had made enough money to buy it outright. Her half of the money was still sitting in her bank account. The couple that had bought the house had refused to sell it back, even with the inflated offer she had made. Andrew must have offered them way over the value for them to accept him, instead.

She merely glanced at the woman beside him, his latest stick-thin plaything. And she completely ignored the article under that picture that still had so many comments coming in. If she were to read that again, she would likely punch someone, preferably Andrew himself. All that would achieve would be confirmation of his lies.

She threw the phone back onto her bed with muttered swear words.

With some difficulty, she bent down and pulled her shoes from under the bed. Another useless waste of money. She preferred lower heels or flats for work but today she was going to look glamorous, even if she broke her damn neck trying. They could talk or write any shit they wanted about her, but she was going to hold her head high like she didn’t give a shit.

With one last look in the mirror at her light makeup and her long red curls brutally tamed into her usual sleek bun, she squeezed past her bed in the tight space to find her bag and laptop. Her paperwork was scattered all over the one sofa in the studio apartment, so she gathered it up and looked for her keys.

Not that there were many places to look. This studio apartment was smaller than the bathrooms where she worked, she just barely fit her double bed and the small sofa. Her small TV was mounted on the wall to save space and the few clothes she had here were in the small wardrobe beside the bed. And she had to squeeze her way into the tiny bathroom adjoined to the bedroom. Her ‘kitchen’ was just a counter to the side where she had mini appliances to get by.

She found the keys on the counter and then headed out. She had to yank her door open, because, like many things here, that didn’t work properly. She wasn’t even sure how the whole place had passed as fit for human occupancy. And there were no elevators in this place. She groaned as she started down the six flights of stairs in the ridiculous heels, and by the time she had reached the bottom, she was regretting her choice of footwear as well as the tight corset. But there was no way she was going back up those stairs.

“Taxi for Miss Avery?”

She looked at the Black Cab in surprise as it waited outside her building complex.

“I didn’t call a taxi.”

“Ordered by a Miss... Casey Adams,” the taxi driver said.

Nicole smiled as she got into the taxi. At least she wouldn’t have to navigate the mad pedestrian traffic in these heels. The shorter breaths she was taking made this seem a lot harder than usual. By the time they drove up to the tall glass building that housed Steele Enterprises, she was sure she was dying. There was no way she would last too long with this contraption on. How did other women do it?

Steele Enterprises was the umbrella company for several of Mr Steele’s businesses - construction, security, technology even financial services. The whole building was overkill. Glass and steel, one of the finest pieces of architecture in the whole city of London. She hated it. It screamed pretentious, just like the man who owned it. Being his PA required a lot of skills and most before her had not been able to keep up. There were a lot of sacrifices involved, like being the first to arrive and the last to leave.

Just thinking about him annoyed her. Damian Steele and Andrew were cut from the same cloth. Both arrogant, cheating bastards who thought the sun shone from their asses, but Mr Steele was worth billions and paid her salary so at least he had that going for him.

Her heels echoed as she walked into the lobby. There was no one here yet except the night security. She took small steps across the stone floors with the new shoes pinching her toes, keeping her head down so she wouldn’t have to see the looks on the security guys’ faces. She was going to end up on her ass before the morning was over.

“Morning,” she smiled awkwardly as she walked past them and swiped her security card.

She walked up to the elevators and chose the closest one. When the elevators opened up on the executive floor, she looked at the floor again and back to her high heels. She cursed herself again for listening to Casey. Who was she kidding? This was a bad idea. At least she had the flat shoes in her office, those would have to do for the day. She wasn’t even going to pretend she could walk in high heels all day.

She gingerly walked through the lobby past the empty receptionist desk. There was no one in the waiting area yet, and the glass walls of the conference room showed it was still thankfully empty. The meeting wasn’t for another couple of hours.

She finally made it to the end of the hallway and wobbled into her office. Mr Steel was probably already in because, besides being a cheating man-whore, he was also a workaholic. She would just change her shoes before she went in to tell him she was here. At least that would be one problem solved. All she would have to do after that would be to learn how to breathe in the corset. Piece of cake.

At least no one had seen her.

But she thought it too soon because the devil himself chose that moment to walk in through their connecting doors.

He came to an abrupt stop when he saw her.

Perfectly groomed, as always. Perfect brunette hair in a trendy hairstyle. Perfect designer beard that highlighted those perfect lips. A perfect sculptured face without a single blemish in sight. He stood over six feet three or four - she had to crane her neck to look up at him because she was only five-two. And he was built like a truck.

Women threw themselves at him wherever he went but she couldn't see the appeal. Sure, he was drop-dead gorgeous and his voice... There was some sort of voodoo right there, she was sure. It was deep and so commanding that he probably just had to whisper "drop your panties" and they'd come right off even if she didn't want them to. But those women could keep him. His hazel eyes were soulless, he never smiled.

Once again, he was dressed like a model for the expensive brand of suits he wore. A dark blue suit today, with a crisp white shirt, and his dark patterned tie was not even a few millimetres crooked.

God, she hated him! So perfect all the time.

“Good morning, Mr Steele,” she said as she stood in place next to her desk.

There was no way she could attempt to sit down now, the corset seemed to have got impossibly tighter.

Mr Steele walked further into the room and placed the folder he was holding on her desk.

“Morning, Miss Avery.”

And then he turned and walked back into his office. She would have let out a breath of relief if she could have managed it.

　　Damian stopped just inside his office and closed his eyes. What was this woman trying to do to him? It was bad enough that he dreamt of her every night like a hormonal teenager and then still had to come to work to endure her judgy gaze as if she knew. But to see her looking like some sort of sex pot straight out of his dreams...

　　He had a busy day scheduled but he knew that was now completely shot to shit. How was he supposed to concentrate now?

　　Nicole had been his PA for over two years. Two years of torture. But in all that time he was sure he had never seen her in a skirt. The skirt moulded her perfect behind and wide hips to perfection and gave him his first glimpse of her legs. His dreams had never done those legs any justice. He had only looked for seconds but that image would be burned in his mind forever. They were so smooth and shapely. And though Nicole was short, barely five two or three, the very high heels she had worn made her legs look endless.

　　The heels... He had often dreamt of taking her while she lay on her back with nothing but heels on.

　　He groaned as he forced himself to walk to his desk rather than risk a sexual harassment suit. He had no doubt Miss Avery would do that. Plus she would walk out of the door and never come back.

　　Prim and proper Miss Avery.

　　The only woman in the world who would most certainly say no to him, and she just had to be the only one he wanted.

　　He tried to take his mind off her by logging into his computer but his mind was messing with him. He could see Nicole everywhere. Bent over his desk. Lying down on the sofa with a sensual inviting look. Against the glass wall behind him. He could see her everywhere he had imagined taking her over the last two years.

　　There was a knock on the connecting door. He composed himself and pushed his chair further under the desk to hide his shame.

　　“Yes?”

　　Nicole walked in with several files under one arm and a cup of his morning coffee in her other hand. The heels were gone, replaced by the usual sensible flat shoes she always wore. The same pair every day, like he didn’t pay her enough to replace them. The heels had been a welcome sight but he had to wonder what had spurred on this transformation.

　　“You need to look over and sign these?” Miss Avery said.

　　She sounded very breathless, almost like she did after a round or two in his dreams. He cleared his throat as he flipped through the paperwork in front of him.

　　“I’m going to set up the conference room. Do you want me to order some breakfast before the meeting?”

　　“I’ve already eaten. Thank you, Miss Avery.”

　　He was willing to bet the conference was already set up and she was just doing some last-minute checks. Nicole was annoyingly efficient like that. All the ‘i’s dotted and the ‘t’s crossed.

　　He watched her walk to his main door. She looked incredibly good today, but something was a little off. He couldn’t put his finger on it. She looked a little flushed like she had been exerting herself. His mind raced to all sorts of things that she could have been doing but he pushed them aside. Thoughts like that always led him to wonder who she actually did those things with, and always ruined his day.

　　When the door closed behind her, he let out a breath and looked down at the paperwork in front of him. Some last-minute figures for the meeting. New points added to the agenda, and all the supporting information for it. Some official letters for him to sign so she could send them off. Though he was usually meticulous with every detail, and never signed anything without reading it, he knew Miss Avery would never put anything less than perfect in front of him. He signed everything he needed to sign and then looked back at his computer.

　　He had at least another hour to kill before the meeting with all the department heads. There was a mountain of paperwork waiting for him to look over, but he knew he would have to take the rest of the day off. There was no way he could be here with Nicole looking like that. Hopefully, this was only a one day thing and she would be back to her usual shapeless clothes tomorrow.

　　Nicole returned a little while later. She looked even more flustered. Her pale cheeks were red and her freckles seemed more prominent.

　　“Are you alright, Miss Avery?”

　　“Of course, sir,” she answered with a smile.

　　If anything, she sounded even more breathless. Something was definitely wrong.

　　Nicole picked up the paperwork in front of him and gave him a weak smile before she went back through the connecting door. Very odd.

　　An hour later he had instructed Nicole to rearrange his day. She didn’t even ask why or give him a lecture about how cancelling meetings was bad for business and his image, which in itself was worrying. She was the only person in the whole world who could get away with busting his balls about shit like that, sometimes it seemed as if she enjoyed it. But he’d had no resistance at all. Maybe a day off would do her good as well.

　　He pulled his phone out to send a quick message.

　　Meet me in two hours.

　　He didn't need to give any more details. He'd had to do that a lot over the years. Random booty calls just to try to scratch this itch that he couldn't do anything about. Very inconvenient.

　　Nicole came in to tell him everyone had arrived. He was positive he saw her sway a little.

　　"Miss Avery, do you need to sit down?"

　　"No, sir. I'm perfectly fine."

　　He frowned as he walked past her out of his office. This was the woman who had once come to work with a forty-one-degree temperature because she didn't like to call in sick. He'd called a car for her and had her taken to his doctor, who had promptly hospitalised her for a few days. Was she doing the same thing now?

　　He didn't have more time to think about it as he walked into the conference room with Nicole behind him. Everyone's gaze seemed to land on her, and he couldn't blame them. He didn’t like it, but he couldn’t blame them. He wanted to look as well.

　　Once he had settled at the head of the table, Nicole sat at the smaller table she had set up to the side of him so she could handle the minutes. She'd crossed her legs. His mind went straight to the gutter again.

　　This was going to be a long day.

Nic had felt quite proud of herself when she had sat down in her chair and crossed her legs. That move would have worked better if she had managed to keep those heels on, but she felt she had portrayed quite the right amount of attitude with a degree of aloofness. But now she was sitting here and couldn’t breathe.

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. We’re all busy, so we will get right into it. Miss Avery has provided the agenda....”

Mr Steele started the meeting with all the department heads for the Security branch of the business. They had branched into digital as well as physical security and had been doing steadily well over the years. Any other time she would have been fascinated by what they were discussing but today...

Was it hot in here?

She undid the top button of her blouse as she carried on trying to take the minutes down. She should have just brought the recorder in. Why hadn’t she thought of that?

She uncrossed her legs, hoping it would somehow make the corset feel less constricting.

“...personal security detail for such a big celebrity would...”

Wait, what? They were providing security to a celebrity? Though that was quite a regular occurrence for Steel Security, it always involved a lot more planning, and Damian liked to have the final say on those. Had she missed something? Had it slipped her mind?

She wiped her forehead and was quite horrified to see how wet the back of her hand was. She felt like a drowning rat. She was willing to bet her pristine shirt wasn’t so pristine anymore. God, she hoped her makeup wasn’t running. She wasn’t big on makeup, so all of hers was the cheap, High Street brands. Things could get quite hairy on rainy days if she forgot her umbrella. Her mascara usually ran so bad she looked like a freckled panda.

“...new security software update... beta testing complete...”

She tried to take a deeper breath. And failed. There was no denying it now. She was going to pass out. She was going to pass out in a room full of people. They would not remember how confident she had looked as she had walked in, they would see a weak, swooning woman. Her whole plan would backfire.

She looked up from the unprofessional doodles she had made on her tablet with her stylus pen and straight into Mr Steel’s hazel eyes. He had a frown marring his perfect face. How could he still look so perfect when it was so hot? Maybe she should have put the air conditioner on before the meeting had started. His frown deepened and those perfect lips of his parted.

It took her a moment to realise she had been staring at him for quite a long time. And it looked like he wasn’t even paying attention to the meeting, either.

A quick look at the people gathered around the table confirmed this. Everyone was looking at her and then Mr Steele. She felt her cheeks start to burn as she looked back down at her tablet. How mortifying was this day turning out to be? Being caught blatantly staring at the boss one minute and the next literally falling at his feet.

“Excuse us,” Mr Steele said, as he swiftly stood up.

She felt too disoriented to understand what was going on, why he would get up in the middle of an important meeting. The next thing she knew she was somehow being led out of the conference room. She felt so lightheaded and everything sounded quite distorted and far away. She knew he was talking to her, she just couldn’t understand a word he said.

Then they were in his office, and he was holding both her arms as he stood in front of her and carried on shouting something. He looked extremely worried, and the last time that had happened she had ended up being hospitalised for a little common cold. How embarrassing would it be if he called the ambulance now, and they all realised she had suffocated herself with a piece of ridiculous shapewear?

She couldn’t breathe!

In her panic, she started to claw at her clothes, ready to remove this torture device. Remove it and burn it.

“What is it? Are you burning up?” she heard Mr Steele ask.

The buttons on her suit jacket weren’t opening. She pushed Mr Steele’s hand away to stumble to his desk, where she pulled a pair of scissors from his drawer.

“What are you doing?”

She tried to gasp in a breath.

“Cut it off,” she gasped.

“What?” he asked again.

She had no breath left to explain. She could already see the white spots dancing in her vision. She put the scissors to her shirt and started to hack away. It seemed Mr Steele finally understood because he took the pair of scissors from her and took over the job. The front of the jacket went first, and then the blouse under it.

He paused way too long when he saw what the problem was.

“What is_”

“Cut it!” she gasped again.

Because of how thick it was, and all the strings on the side, Mr Steele had to quickly strip the useless jacket and blouse off her to see what he had to do. It took him mere moments to start cutting the strings. She could have wept when she finally managed to take her first full breath that morning. She ripped the corset away from her body, closed her eyes and leaned back on the huge table behind her, savouring every deep breath.

Holy shit, she could have died!

She was never listening to any of Casey’s ideas again. Who invented these things? For what reason? Never, ever again!

As her heartbeat calmed down and her breathing normalised, she remembered. And sure enough, when she opened her eyes, Mr Steele was standing in front of her with a shocked expression on his face and a pair of scissors in his hand.

Her eyes widened and she brought her arms up to try and cover her chest as if she still had any modesty left to protect. Of all the things she had ever thought could happen to her in her lifetime, this was not one of them. She was practically naked in front of her boss. It was like those dreams where you were naked in public and everyone was laughing at you, only this wasn’t a dream.

She didn’t even have her best bra on today. She was amply gifted in that area, so she always went for comfort and support instead of sexiness. So now her boss was looking directly at her favourite, very old bra.

Looking. Looking and not looking away. She turned away from him, still trying to cover her chest. Never had there been a moment where she was as grateful for his solid walls as this. Their connected offices had the privacy that the others didn’t with their glass walls. Her embarrassment would have been amplified if the others had also seen what a great big tit she had made of herself.

But the back walls were reinforced glass, she really hoped it was true that no one outside could see in.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

How would she ever look him in the eye again?

“Um. Yes, okay.”

Mr Steele cleared his throat and she could just imagine the horror going through his mind. Here was a man who dated models and actresses - beautiful women without an ounce of fat to spare - and he had to look at her dumpy, half-naked body. Half naked, sweaty and sticky body. She could feel how soaked her bra was. This was so mortifying. He would always see her like this in his head. How would she maintain her professionalism now? Would she have to quit?

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I think I have to go home.”

Go home and drink this day away.

“Yes. Okay,” Mr Steele repeated.

And now she had turned him into a blithering mess. Great. Somebody kill her now. She squeezed her eyes shut as the torture continued. She could feel how close he was to her but he wasn’t leaving, wasn’t saying anything. And she couldn’t leave until he had. How would she even walk out of this office? Hell, how would she walk out of this building?

“Right. Yes, let’s go home,” Mr Steel said finally.

She looked down at her clothes on the floor. The expensive suit she could never wear again.

“Upstairs. I have some clothes you can borrow,” he said.

But he still didn’t move. Nic risked a glance at him over her shoulder and saw his gaze fixed firmly on her bottom. Was he... was he checking her out?