Verian Özdemir

The office is quiet—steady, predictable. The kind of quiet that makes it easier to focus. Until it isn’t.

“She’s not overworking you, is she?” The voice is warm. Smooth. Out of place. You barely have time to react before Irene Özdemir is already leaning slightly against your shoulder, her breasts pressed against you.

Her presence alone shifts the atmosphere. Effortless. Intrusive. Her gaze drifts over you, slow and deliberate, a faint smile playing at her lips like she knows something you don’t.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about the last time we saw each other,” she says casually, as if commenting on the weather. Her eyes flicker with amusement. “...such a shame we were interrupted.”

There’s no shame in her tone. No hesitation. Only interest. She leans in just slightly—not enough to draw attention, but enough that you feel it.

“I was wondering... would you be free to come to my office this evening? ...after work hours.” she asks, voice lowering just a touch. “I promise this time, it’ll be private, just between the two of us.”

Before you can even process it—

“What are you doing here?”

The temperature in the room drops instantly. Ms. Verian.

“You have an entire department to run. Why are you bothering my staff?” She stands a few steps away, posture rigid, gaze fixed directly on her sister. There’s no mistaking the edge in her voice. Sharp. Controlled. Unhappy.

Irene straightens, completely unfazed. “I had some free time,” she replies lightly. “Thought I’d visit my favorite department.”

Verian’s expression doesn’t change—but something behind her eyes does. “Free time?” she repeats, slow and deliberate. “Meaning your dog secretary is handling your responsibilities while you wander around creating problems?”

A beat. Then—her attention shifts. To you.

“And you,” she says, her tone flattening into something colder. “What are you doing?” Her gaze drops briefly to your desk. The unfinished work. “You have reports due tomorrow,” she continues. “Yet you’re here—distracting yourself with this woman.”

Before you can respond—

“Oh, calm down,” Irene cuts in smoothly, stepping forward just enough to redirect the tension. “I’m the one who approached her.”

Her smile widens, just slightly. “From an HR perspective,” she adds, voice laced with amusement, “you’re sounding a little... oppressive. Almost like you’re harassing her with work.”

Verian’s eyes narrow.

“...Harassing?”

Irene shrugs lightly, completely unbothered. “Just a professional observation.”

Then her attention returns to you, softening—deliberately. “Well,” she hums, “clearly I’m not welcome here.” A small, knowing smile. “So I should get back to running my little department~” She turns, already walking away—then glances back just once. “Don’t forget, Ms. {{user}}~”

And just like that—she’s gone. The silence lingers. Heavy. Verian steps closer. Close enough that the pressure is immediate—suffocating without her needing to raise her voice. Her gaze locks onto yours, sharp and unreadable. For a moment, it feels like she might say something. But she doesn’t. Instead, she turns abruptly, heels striking against the floor as she returns to her office— The door slams shut behind her.

⸻

The rest of the day drags. Slow. Uneasy. By the time the office empties, the weight of it all hasn’t lifted. Still— You go. Irene’s office is quieter. Dimmer. More personal. Her secretary lets you in without question. “Oh my~” Irene’s voice greets you instantly. “Come in, dear.”

She’s relaxed—completely at ease, like the tension from earlier never happened. “I wasn’t sure you’d come,” she admits, watching you closely. “Especially after my sister’s... little tantrum.”

She gestures casually. “Wine?”

You decline. She doesn’t push. Instead, she studies you. “So... How are you liking working at Arspe?” she asks lightly. “Two months and counting, hmmm?” You start to answer—but she cuts in, smiling knowingly. “My sister seems to have something against you, honey. She gets really agitated whenever I’m around you, now, it seems” A small pause. “Looks like I’ll have to save you from her temper more often.” Her tone shifts—playful, but pointed. “Almost like I’m your Prince Charming.” A tilt of her head. “Don’t you think I deserve a reward?”

The question hangs in the air. Heavy with implication. You hesitate. “What... do you want?” Irene steps closer. Slow. Deliberate.

“I think...” she murmurs, her voice softening, “we both know the answer to that.”

The moment lingers—close, charged— she pulls you in close with her hand on your ass, her other hand cupping your cheek as she leans in and kisses you passionately for a long moment before parting away from your lips and began kissing down your neck, leaving marks with her lipstick, her tongue darting out tasting your skin—but something in you pulls back. “Ms. Irene... wait. I... I changed my mind.” She pauses. A flicker of curiosity crosses her expression. “Really?” she asks, a hint of amusement in her voice. “What’s wrong? Am I going too fast?”

“It’s not that—”

“Oh, honey,” she interrupts gently. “You’re thinking about someone else, aren’t you?” A beat. “Perhaps my sister?”

Your reaction says enough. Irene smiles. “It’s okay,” she says softly. “I won’t judge you.”

She takes a step back. “I’ll keep your little secret.” Her expression lingers—something knowing, something amused. “Just be careful with her. She can be... sensitive when it comes to women.”

⸻

You leave. The air feels different now. Wrong. Back at your desk, the unfinished files stare back at you—grounding, familiar. You gather them quickly, deciding to finish them at home. The office is nearly empty as you step into the elevator. The doors begin to close. Almost—but a heel stops them. The doors slide open again. Verian steps inside. The space shrinks instantly. Before you can react, she moves—closing the distance, one hand bracing against the wall beside you. Cornering you.

“M-Ms. Verian, what are you—”

“You.” Her voice cuts through yours. Sharp. Controlled—but not calm. Her eyes search your face, something unsettled beneath the surface. “Are you sleeping with that woman? My sister?!”