He will and he will hide under her desk

"Then it's settled—you'll handle the pitch for me," you say, locking eyes with her across the desk, the words carrying a quiet command that she seems to drink in like a promise.

Hiding in plain sight feels like the smartest play; no need to risk Clarkes spotting you and derailing everything before the scent can work its slow burn. That desk of hers looms like a fortress, its solid panels offering perfect cover from prying eyes on the other side—better than chancing the couch, where a wrong angle could expose you. "I'll duck under your desk," you add, voice dropping low as you gesture toward it.

Kateryna gives a quick nod, her lips parting in a subtle curve that hints at eagerness, but she holds back, waiting for your lead.

A spark lights in her gaze then, bold and inviting, as she steps closer, fingers toying with the zipper at her hip. "Want me to unzip this pencil skirt? You could... explore a bit while we're waiting—my thighs, my panties, maybe slide a hand higher?" Her voice dips to a husky whisper, laced with hope, her body shifting just enough to let the fabric hug her curves tighter.

Temptation flares hot in your chest, but you shake it off, keeping your focus sharp. "Not this time—I need you locked in and professional."

She nods again, a wistful smile tugging at her mouth, the disappointment flickering briefly before she smooths it away. With a graceful sweep of her arm, she clears a path, and you drop to your knees, crawling into the shadowed space beneath the desk, the carpet rough under your palms as you settle in, heart pounding in the dim enclosure while the minutes stretch, building anticipation for Emilia Clarkes's arrival.

The door clicks open after what feels like an eternity, heels tapping a brisk rhythm across the floor. "Katty, what's the fire? I was knee-deep in quarterly projections," Emilia's voice cuts through, sharp and no-nonsense, carrying that executive edge honed from years at the top.

"Close the door, Emmy—trust me, you'll want privacy for this," Kateryna replies smoothly, her chair scraping as she sits, legs crossing inches from your hiding spot, the faint rustle of her skirt brushing against your shoulder.

A pause hangs, then the door shuts with a soft thud, sealing the room's stale air tighter. "Alright, spill. You sounded urgent on the phone."

"It's about Alexton Peterson—down in operations. He's been killing it for years, Emmy. Top KPIs, consistent output, the kind of reliability that keeps this place running. I pulled his files; he's overdue for a bump up the ladder."

Emilia lets out a short laugh, settling into the chair opposite, her perfume mingling with the office's lingering heat. "Peterson? The quiet one in the cubicles? Come on, Katty, we've got a stack of fresh talent waiting—young go-getters who fit the diversity push. Why him?"

Kateryna leans forward—you catch the subtle shift of her posture from your vantage, her voice turning persuasive, warm like honey. "Because he's earned it, plain and simple. Nine years of solid work, no drama, results that speak for themselves. Imagine slotting him higher; he'd boost efficiency across the board."

Emilia crosses her arms, leaning back with a skeptical tilt to her head, the air in the room feeling a touch heavier as she inhales deeply. "Earned it how, exactly? We've got guidelines for this stuff—merit-based sure, but we need to balance it with broader goals like retention and team diversity."

"Absolutely, and that's where Alexton fits right in," Kateryna replies, her tone shifting to that crisp, data-driven clip she uses in meetings, fingers tapping lightly on the desk above you.

"From an HR perspective, promotions like this are rooted in clear performance metrics," she elaborates, building her case with steady precision.

"His evaluations show he's exceeded targets by an average of 15% in operational efficiency over the last three cycles—no red flags, zero incidents."

"It's classic merit-based succession: rewarding high performers to cut down on turnover, which costs us around $15,000 per lost employee based on industry benchmarks," Kateryna emphasizes, her voice underscoring the financial logic.

"Overlooking that erodes morale and sends the wrong signal about growth paths," she wraps up, delivering the warning with professional gravity.

Another beat of silence, broken by Emilia's sigh, softer this time, as if the words are sinking in amid the enclosed space, the air growing thicker with each exchanged breath. "I don't know... he's competent, sure, but promotions are about vision, not just grinding it out. What about innovation? Those new hires bring fresh ideas; does he?"

Kateryna nods, not missing a beat, her foot inching closer under the desk in a quick, secretive nudge against your leg.

"Innovation's key, no doubt, but Alexton's got it in spades—practical stuff that sticks," she counters, her words carrying that persuasive rhythm from countless HR briefings.

"He revamped the reporting process last quarter, shaving off 20% in processing time, which ties directly into our departmental objectives," Kateryna details, painting the picture with specific achievements.

"And on collaboration? Peer surveys rank him in the top quartile for teamwork and reliability," she questions rhetorically, then answers, layering on the evidence.

"Promoting based on these factors isn't just fair; it's strategic—models a clear link between performance and advancement, boosts engagement scores, and helps with knowledge transfer to those younger folks you're eyeing," Kateryna sums up, her delivery polished and forward-looking.

Emilia uncrosses her arms, her chair creaking as she leans forward slightly, voice mellowing as the minutes tick by, the subtle pull in the room easing her resistance. "Okay, the cost angle hits home—we've been hemorrhaging on recruitment lately. And those survey stats... I didn't realize his peers rated him that high. But how does this square with our diversity targets? The board's all over me about gender balance."

"Merit doesn't clash with diversity; it complements it," Kateryna counters smoothly, her words measured like she's reading from a policy binder, enthusiasm building as her heel brushes your knee again.

She elaborates without missing a beat: "Alexton's promotion rewards demonstrated value without demographics playing into it—that's equal opportunity in action."

Kateryna builds on the idea, her voice gaining momentum: "It sets a precedent: tie advancements to concrete contributions like his, and you reduce perceived inequities that lead to disengagement."

Adding another layer with precise emphasis, she notes: "Plus, from a compliance standpoint, his clean record and consistent feedback incorporation make him a low-risk move."

She ties it all together, underscoring the bigger picture: "Think long-term organizational health—higher retention, better morale ripple effects."

Emilia nods slowly, her breathing deeper now, fingers drumming lightly on the armrest as she absorbs it, the office's stagnant warmth wrapping around her like a blanket. "You're making sense, Katty. I overlooked the morale piece—exit interviews last year were brutal on that. If his skills transfer that well, maybe he could slot in somewhere targeted, without the full grind."

"Exactly—his vision's in the details, Emmy. Think about it: loyal, skilled, no ego trips. We could use more like him upstairs." Kateryna's foot nudges closer under the desk, a secret brush against your leg, her enthusiasm building as the conversation flows.

Emilia shifts in her seat, the creak of leather punctuating her words, voice losing some of its bite. "You make a point. His metrics are impressive—better than half the team up here. Maybe I overlooked that."

"Overlooked? Try undervalued. Promote him, and he'd shine. Hell, make him your personal assistant if you want—he'd handle the heavy lifting without the fluff, focus on what he's best at, lighten your load without all the overtime grind."

The room falls quiet for a moment, Emilia's breathing steady but deepening, as if weighing the idea while the subtle haze in the air works its quiet magic, easing doubts like a loosening knot. "You know what? You're right. Peterson's got potential I haven't tapped. Personal assistant sounds perfect—flexible hours, targeted tasks, play to his strengths. I'll fast-track it; he starts next week if he's in."

Kateryna's triumph echoes in her quick exhale, her thigh pressing lightly against you in silent celebration. "Smart call, Emmy. He'll make you look even better."