To congratulate her, and ask for one more thing

The elevator doors opened with a low groan and Isabel stepped into the dim hush of the parking garage. The air was cooler here, carrying the faint smell of oil and concrete. Her bare feet padded softly against the smooth cement, and she gripped the edges of the shirt tightly, holding it closed across her chest. Each step echoed, loud in the silence, and every echo reminded her of just how exposed she was.

But the garage was empty. No coworkers, no curious stares, no whispers. Just rows of cars standing still like silent witnesses.

At the far end, a gleaming black BMW waited. The headlights blinked once as the driver’s door opened, and out stepped Mr. Kingsley. His presence filled the space without effort. He was sharply dressed, his tailored suit unrumpled, his expression unreadable.

“Ms. Torres,” he said, his voice carrying easily in the vast garage. “I’m glad you came.”

Isabel swallowed hard, her heart pounding. She tried to stand tall despite the chill against her bare legs, despite the way her shirt threatened to slip open with each movement.

“Sir,” she answered, steadying her voice.

Mr. Kingsley stepped closer, the click of his polished shoes echoing. His gaze was direct, but not cruel, not prying. If he noticed her disheveled state, he didn’t acknowledge it.

“I wanted to tell you in person,” he said, “that your performance on today’s Zoom meeting was exceptional. You commanded attention. You were sharp. That is not easy to do under pressure.”

Relief washed through Isabel like warmth. She bowed her head slightly. “Thank you, Mr. Kingsley.”

He paused, then gave a faint smile. “Victoria also told me what happened earlier today.”

Isabel froze, her stomach tightening. The elevator. The shame. The rejection. Her lungs felt locked, but she **** herself to meet his gaze.

“She told me,” he continued, “that when she entered the elevator, she found you wearing nothing but your underwear. She told me how embarrassed you were, how desperately you tried to avoid anyone seeing you in that state. She told me that, despite all that, when she asked to take a selfie with you, you refused her.”

The words struck Isabel like a slap, making her skin prickle. Hearing him lay out her humiliation so plainly was almost unbearable. She clutched the shirt tighter, her face burning, wishing she could disappear into the shadows of the garage.

Mr. Kingsley’s voice, however, remained steady. “Most people in that situation would have given in. They would have let the photo happen to avoid conflict, or out of fear of offending someone with influence. But you didn’t. You said no. That is the kind of courage, the kind of clarity of judgment, that I want to see in a manager.”

The words rang in her ears, sinking in slowly. He wasn’t condemning her. He was recognizing her strength.

Mr. Kingsley straightened his cufflinks and spoke with finality. “I will be insisting that the board support you for the position. Consider it settled, Ms. Torres.”

For a moment Isabel could only stare, breath caught in her chest, then it burst out of her in a trembling laugh. Ecstatic relief surged through her, sweeping away the hours of panic and humiliation. After everything, after the impossible day, she had won.

“Thank you, sir,” she said, her voice bright, the edges of tears prickling her eyes. “You won’t regret it.”

"I know I won't." Mr. Kingsley reassured her. "But there is one more thing we need to settle."

Isabel's heart dropped as Mr. Kingsley spoke these words.

"You see Ms. Torres, when I saw you in that meeting, I thought I recognized something." Mr. Kingsley spoke. "I believe that is my shirt."

Isabel looked down at the shirt she had desperately clung to her body.

"Yes, I am fairly certain that I lost that at the last holiday party." Mr. Kingsley explained. "And I would love to have it back, if available."

Isabel couldn't believe what was happening, she had avoided exposure to a certain extent thus far, but now she was going to have to remove the one article of clothing and expose herself in only her white cotton panties. But this time she was exposing herself to her boss!

"Of course sir," Isabel's voice trembled as she stepped toward Mr. Kingsley. Her boss put out his hand, waiting for the shirt to be handed to him.

Isabel peeled off the dress shirt, and just like that her bare breasts were exposed to the cold garage air. Her nipples immediately hardened and pointed straight towards her boss. Mr. Kingsley had a slight smile as he gazed upon her breasts. Isabel stepped forward, wearing only her thin cotton panties, and the shirt in his hand.

"Thank you Ms. Torres. I look forward to working with you closer." Mr. Kingsley stated with a smile. "Oh, and just so you know, with how the lights in here are laid out, I can see absolutely everything."

Mr. Kingsley peered down at her crotch and flared his eyebrows.

"Absolutely everything." Mr. Kingsley stated before climbing into his car. With that, he drove away. Isabel was left wearing only her underwear in the cold garage of her building. But the only thing that mattered was that she was going to be manager. She may be basically naked right now, but tomorrow she had power.