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inevitablysomber-dark · 2 months ago

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Under The Radar 5

Dark! Steve Roger x Kiwi! Reader

Dividers by @Strangergraphics

Warnings:

This story contains themes of emotional manipulation, power imbalance, dubious consent, toxic relationships, and psychological control. It deals with difficult subjects such as forced dependency and mental/emotional abuse. Reader discretion is advised.

Description: Kiwi thought she had her life under control—until a chance invitation to the Maldives from her former friend pulls her into a web of manipulation and control. What starts as a luxurious vacation turns into a slow descent into captivity as Steve, the wealthy man funding her escape from reality, begins to tighten his grip on her life. Now trapped in a toxic relationship where affection becomes control, Kiwi must navigate a world where every decision is made for her, every boundary crossed, and escape seems impossible.

Is it too late to reclaim her freedom, or will she succumb to the life Steve has crafted for her?

Story Masterlist

The corporate building Steve’s father owned was nothing short of grand. I walked in, nerves tingling at the thought of my new position. The administrator in charge of my training, Claire, greeted me in the lobby and immediately started the tour.

“This is where the magic happens,” she said as we passed by a massive boardroom. I nodded, only half-listening, too awestruck by how polished and professional everything was. I could feel the imposter syndrome creeping in.

We moved through finance, legal, marketing it was all so surreal. Just a few months ago, I was working in a factory. Now I was here.

Honestly, I had no real intention of taking Steve up on his offer. But after just two weeks at home with my parents, I couldn’t take it anymore, I called in and had them set up my training. Between my mom’s constant nagging to reconnect with my “friends” and my dad’s disapproving remarks about my “lack of networking skills,” staying any longer would’ve been unbearable.

It got so bad that, just to shut them up, I told them I had a job offer and was just waiting for my training to start. That, of course, led to a new set of issues. I suddenly needed a “proper wardrobe” because, apparently, I “didn’t know how to dress professionally.” And a new watch, because, as my dad put it, “You can’t just whip out your phone for everything.” He handed me his old Seiko 5 Automatic, the first watch my grandfather ever gifted him, saying I wasn’t “mature enough” for a Rolex yet.

On the surface, all of this looked thoughtful, like they were just slightly overbearing but caring parents. But every compliment had a sting, every “gift” came with a reminder of everything I’d supposedly done wrong in life. Keeping my time with them brief wasn’t just for my sanity; it was to keep me from burning these bridges altogether. I knew I was all they had left, and honestly, I wasn’t sure how they’d handle it if I simply disappeared. The guilt would probably eat me alive. Despite everything, they were all I knew, and in a sick, twisted way, I loved them.

So, here I was, finally at my first day, forcing a polite smile as Claire led me around the office. I barely heard her voice until we reached my new desk.

“And lastly,” Claire said, smiling, “this will be your desk.”

I blinked at the sight of it, positioned right across from Steve’s office, practically tethered to him by proximity.

“Thanks,” I murmured, sliding into the chair as Claire handed me a folder.

“Your training materials are in here. You’ll go over company protocols, and Steve has requested to check in with you personally every day.”

My stomach did a somersault at the thought of Steve hovering over me daily. I needed this job, and I’d made up my mind to put some distance between us now that we were in a professional setting.

“Thanks, Claire. I’ll start going over these,” I said, trying to focus.

Claire nodded and left, leaving me to get comfortable with my bearings, but the unsettling feeling in my gut wouldn’t go away. I couldn’t let Steve think that just because we had history outside of work, he could treat me differently here. I had to set boundaries.

The morning passed without too much fuss until lunchtime, when Steve made his first appearance. He strolled over to my desk, leaning against the doorframe of his office like he owned the place--well, I guess technically, he did.

“Hey, how’s the first day treating you?” His voice carried that easy charm I was used to.

“Good. Just settling in,” I replied, keeping my eyes on my computer, trying to keep things professional.

“Great,” he said, casually moving over my desk to get closer to me. “Let’s grab lunch. I know this amazing sushi spot.”

I finally looked up at him smiling, teeth all straight and pearly, forcing a polite smile. “I’m actually swamped, Steve. Maybe another time?”

He raised an eyebrow, amused. “Too busy for lunch with your boss?”

I suppressed a sigh with a nervous laugh. “Steve, we’re at work now. I think it’s important we keep things... professional.”

“Professional, huh?” He smirked, leaning in slightly. “Come on, Kiwi, we’re friends. We can balance both, right?”

My stomach tightened. I took a deep breath, determined to stand my ground. “I really need to focus. Can we stick to work for now?”

His smirk faded for a second, something like annoyance flashing in his eyes, but it was gone just as quickly. He chuckled, stepping back. “Alright, alright. Focus on work. I’ll check in later.”

As he walked away, I knew that this was far from over. Steve wasn’t the type to back down easily.

The rest of the afternoon blurred by, and I’d almost forgotten about the tension from earlier--until Steve showed up again, leaning in closer this time.

“So, about tonight,” he began, his tone playful but with an edge. “You’re coming out for drinks, right?”

I sighed inwardly, feeling my patience wearing thin. “Steve, we need to set some boundaries.”

He blinked, his expression shifting. “Boundaries?”

“Yes,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “This is a work environment, and I need space. I appreciate everything you’ve done to help me get this job, but I need to focus without any... distractions.”

For a moment, his jaw tightened, but then he smiled, that same charming grin. “Of course. Just trying to help you relax. You seem tense.”

His words didn’t sit right with me. I managed a small smile, trying to ease the tension. “Thanks for understanding.”

He tapped his fingers on my desk lightly, his eyes still on me. “Don’t mention it. But just so you know... I’m not giving up that easily.”

My heart skipped a beat as he straightened up and walked back to his office. I wasn’t sure if he meant it as a joke or something more. Either way, it was clear this wasn’t going to be as simple as I’d hoped. I’d drawn my boundaries, but it seemed like Steve was determined to push every single one.

The next few days at work felt like a tug-of-war. Steve wasn’t exactly crossing lines outright, but he wasn’t backing down either. I’d catch him glancing over at me from his office, more often than seemed necessary. Little things, like dropping by my desk for no reason or insisting I join him for coffee breaks, it started to feel like a test. A test of how far he could push before I’ gave in.

Today was no different. I was finishing up some notes when Steve appeared, leaning over my desk to hand me a file, his fingers brushing mine. “You’re doing a great job,” he said with that grin, the one that always seemed too friendly.

“Thanks,” I said, forcing a smile. “Just trying to keep up.”

His hand lingered on the edge of my desk; his body too close for comfort. “I was thinking--tonight, let’s get dinner. Just the two of us. We can talk about your progress here, you know, check in.”

I hesitated, my pulse quickening. “I don’t think that’s necessary, Steve. I’ve got a lot to do, and I’d prefer to keep work separate from personal stuff.”

Steve’s smile didn’t waver, “Kiwi, we’re friends. Don’t act like I’m asking you to do something out of line.”

I shifted in my seat, trying to maintain my composure. “I appreciate the offer, but I think it’s best to keep things professional.”

He leaned in closer, his voice lowering. “Professional… there goes that word again. You’re making this more complicated than it needs to be.”

I swallowed, suddenly feeling trapped. “Steve, I’m just trying to set boundaries.”

There it was again--another brief flash of something darker in his expression before he quickly masked it with a laugh. “Alright, alright,” he said, stepping back. “I’m just trying to make sure you’re comfortable. We’ll keep it ‘professional’.”

The next day, I decided to take my lunch break alone. I’d barely settled into my usual corner of the café when my phone buzzed with a message from Steve.

Steve: I’m heading over to grab lunch. Join me?

I frowned. I quickly typed a polite excuse.

Kiwi: Sorry, I’m already halfway through my food. Maybe another time.

His response came almost instantly.

Steve: Where are you? I’ll come by.

I didn’t even have a chance to respond before the door to the café opened, and there he was, with his eyes on me. Steve strolled over, sliding into the seat across from me without waiting for an invitation.

“Funny running into you here,” he said, a glint in his eye.

I smiled tightly. “Yeah, crazy.”

For a few minutes, we made small talk--work, the weather, anything that didn’t feel personal. But then Steve leaned forward, his eyes locking onto mine.

“Kiwi, you’ve been acting distant. I’m trying to figure out what’s going on,” he said, his tone shifting to something more serious.

I blinked, caught off guard. “I’m not being distant, Steve. I’m just... trying to focus on the job.”

His lips curved into a smile, “and I get that. But you don’t have to push me away. I thought we were getting close.”

I felt a pit form in my stomach. “Steve, I’m here for the job. That’s what matters.”

He didn’t respond for a moment, just stared at me as if weighing something on his mind. Then he sat back, a smirk playing on his lips. “Alright, Kiwi. I’ll give you your space.”

I should’ve known Steve wasn’t going to just back off. He wasn’t the type to take no for an answer, not for long anyway. At first, he acted like everything was fine, polite, distant enough, professional. But then, like a switch flipped, the demands started.

“Kiwi, I need you at the office before I get in tomorrow. Make sure my coffee is piping hot, 180 degrees and ready. Black, no sugar.”

“Kiwi, I’ve got a meeting with some investors at 8. Make sure I’ve got a casual outfit ready to change into afterward.”

“Kiwi, I’m flying to Tokyo next week. You’re coming along. Pack for the weekend.”

At first, I stumbled, hard. His demands came out of nowhere, like a storm I didn’t see coming. I was barely keeping up. One morning I got his coffee order wrong, too much cream, he only wanted a splash, and he didn’t even bother to hide his displeasure. He made a big deal out of it in front of the entire office.

He muttered, loud enough for my coworkers to hear. “Is it really that hard, Kiwi?”

My face burned with shame as a few people glanced over, some pitying, others snickering. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from snapping back. I needed this job, but more than that, I needed to prove to parents that I could handle it, even if Steve was doing his best to make it impossible.

He was calling me at all times of the day, and night. I’d barely fallen asleep when my phone buzzed at 12 a.m.

Steve: Need you at my place. Meeting with Australia in an hour. Bring the folder on the merger.

I blinked at the message, my heart sinking. Who did that? Who made their PA get up in the middle of the night to show up at their home?

But I went. I dragged myself out of bed, threw on some clothes, and drove over to his place, exhausted. Steve greeted me like nothing was wrong, all smiles and casual charm, as if he hadn’t just interrupted my sleep for something he could’ve handled himself.

“Thanks for coming,” he said, barely looking at me as he scrolled through his phone. “I’ve got a few ideas I want to go over for the Australia meeting. Sit.”

I sat, bleary-eyed, taking notes as he rambled about corporate strategies I didn’t fully understand in my sleep-deprived state. This was becoming my new normal. Coffee runs, clothes prep, late-night calls. Steve was pushing me to the edge, and I wasn’t sure if I could keep this up.

The breaking point came a few weeks later. I had been working my ass off trying to keep up with Steve’s increasingly erratic demands, and I thought I was finally getting into the groove of things. But Steve had other plans.

I was in the middle of typing up a report when he walked into the office, flanked by a few higher-ups. I stood up to greet them, clipboard in hand, ready to offer updates on his schedule. But Steve barely glanced at me.

“Kiwi,” he said, his voice clipped, “why isn’t my presentation ready? We’ve got a meeting in fifteen minutes, and you’re standing around like you’ve got all the time in the world.”

I froze, confused. “I—I thought you said you wanted the slides in by tomorrow. I—”

“Tomorrow?” He cut me off, his voice loud enough to turn heads. “No, Kiwi, I said today. Or is listening too hard for you now?”

I felt all eyes me. My coworkers, the higher-ups—all of them watching as Steve casually ripped me apart in front of them. My stomach churned with a mix of anger and embarrassment, but I forced myself to stay calm.

“I’ll get it ready now,” I said quietly, my throat tight.

Steve rolled his eyes, then turned back to the others with a casual shrug. “This is what happens when you have to deal with amateurs.”

As they walked away, I stood there, humiliated, anger simmering just beneath my skin. That was it. No more stumbling around, no more letting Steve bulldoze over me. If he wanted me to be his PA, fine—I’d be the best damn PA he’d ever seen. But I wasn’t going to let him keep making me feel small.

That night, I stayed up, reviewing his entire schedule, his notes, his preferences, everything. I started memorizing his quirks, his habits, the things that made him tick. I was going to make sure he had no reason to humiliate me again. I’d be one step ahead of him, always ready, always prepared.

Steve didn’t know it yet, but he’d handed me the playbook to beat him at his own game.

I put my new plan into action. Every morning, Steve’s coffee was hot and ready. His presentations? Polished days in advance. I even had his extra clothes laid out for those “casual” meetings before he could ask. He tried to trip me up with last-minute changes, but I stayed ahead of him, anticipating every move before he made it. It felt like a game, one where I refused to let him win.

And Steve noticed. The satisfaction he once got from controlling me started to fade as I grew more competent, was fading. He began testing me harder, pushing boundaries with more erratic requests, continuing to wake me at odd hours for meetings but I was ready, I had his schedule in hand waiting for that call. It was exhausting, but I met every challenge head-on, and the more I succeeded, the more frustrated he seemed.

Then came the announcement: a weekend business trip to meet investors. And of course, I was required to join him. It felt different, though. Private. Isolated. Just the two of us at a luxury resort with the investors. Managing Steve in the office was one thing, but a weekend away from the safety of our professional environment felt... dangerous. Yet, it felt like I couldn’t refuse.

On the flight, he sat too close. His arm brushed mine, lingering longer than necessary. At the resort, during meetings, he played up our dynamic, compliments woven into professional banter, a hand on my lower back for just a little too long. It was subtle, but I felt the undercurrent. Something was shifting.

He was up to something.

After a successful day with the investors, Steve insisted we celebrate. He chose an upscale restaurant, and I knew I couldn’t refuse. At dinner, his flirtation became more apparent. He leaned in closer, his eyes lingering on me in a way that made my skin crawl.

“You know, Kiwi,” he began, swirling his drink slowly, his voice low and deliberate, “You are truly amazing, I couldn’t imagine doing this without you. You’ve proven yourself to be indispensable.” I forced a smile, but I couldn’t shake the unease crawling up my spine. His words carried weight, a suggestion I couldn’t quite place, but it left a sour taste in my mouth. I tried steering the conversation back to work, but he wasn’t having it. Another round of drinks came, and with them, more talk about us.

As we left the restaurant, his arm slid around my waist, his touch too familiar, guiding me back to the hotel. My mind raced,dizzy, knowing he was crossing a line, but unsure of how to push back .

In the elevator, the tension was palpable. He stood too close, the small space amplifying every detail, his cologne, the warmth of his body. I kept my gaze forward, heart pounding as the doors closed, sealing us off from the outside world. Steve didn’t say much, but his silence was louder than words.

When we reached his suite, he opened the door but didn’t step aside. Instead, he gently tugged at my arm, pulling me inside. The air felt heavy, thick with something unspoken.

“Come in, relax a bit,” he murmured, holding out a drink, his eyes never leaving mine. “You deserve to enjoy this. We’ve earned it.”

I frantically shook my head, my voice firmer than before. “I’m good, Steve. I think I’ll just head back to my room.”

But he didn’t move. Instead, he stepped closer, blocking my path. The playful charm he usually carried was gone, replaced with something sharper, more calculating. “Kiwi, don’t act like we haven’t been getting closer. I know you feel it too.” His hand brushed against my arm, the contact sending a chill down my spine.

I took a step back, trying to steady my breathing. “No, Steve. This isn’t right. We’re just colleagues.”

But the look in his eyes shifted, the darkness that usually flickered beneath came to the surface. “Colleagues?” he repeated, his voice cold. “After everything, you think we’re just colleagues?”

The walls felt like they were closing in, but I found my voice. “Yes, Steve. I’m grateful for everything, but that doesn’t mean you can cross boundaries. I need space, and I need respect.”

For a moment, his jaw clenched, and the charm he wore like armor slipped. There was a tense silence before he let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Respect, huh? Don’t forget who got you this job, Kiwi.”

My legs felt shaky, but I stood firm. “That doesn’t give you the right to try to control me.”

He stared at me, his eyes narrowing in a way that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “We’ll see about that.”

After the intense conflict in his hotel room, Steve surprises me by backing off. For the first time in a while, I feel like I can actually breathe. He stops micromanaging me, the late-night requests become fewer, and he's not hovering over me at every turn. At first, I'm suspicious. I know Steve too well by now to believe this peace is permanent. He's playing the long game. But for now, I try to enjoy the distance, even though I’m constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

The job is good, I can't deny that. The pay is miles better than what I was making before, and I’m starting to feel more competent. I understand the numbers I’m handling, especially when I'm writing notes at meetings and presentations. My degree is finally coming into play, and that gives me a sense of purpose that I’d been missing. Leaving isn’t something I’m ready for yet, but I keep telling myself that if Steve crosses the line again, I’ll have a way out.

Life at my parents' house isn't getting any easier. The tension there has been at an all-time high, and as much as I hate to admit it, this job is my best shot at getting out. I start searching for my own place, somewhere closer to work, somewhere I can finally breathe without the constant bickering in my ear.

The thought of having my own space again feels exhilarating and with the money I’m making now, I can afford a decent one. It’s just a matter of finding the right one. Part of me wonders if Steve’s backing off has anything to do with this newfound freedom I’m reaching for. It’s as if he’s letting me think I have control. And as much as I want to believe I do, I can’t shake the feeling that he’s still pulling the strings

Theres a project and Steve wants me to be a part of it. He brings it up casually in a meeting one afternoon, asking me to collaborate with him on one of the bigger financial initiatives the company is pushing. At first, I hesitate, but the challenge of working on something so significant piques my interest. Plus, if I’m being honest, it’s the kind of work I’d been hoping to sink my teeth into when I first started. So, I agree.

Steve, of course, doesn’t miss the opportunity to get closer. Lunch meetings become the norm again, and every now and then, he suggests we work at his place. I keep the boundary clear, at least for now, reminding him that this is strictly professional. But even when the conversation stays on track, I can tell he’s savoring every second I’m around.

What surprises me, though, is how impressive Steve actually is when it comes to his work. He knows his stuff, better than I expected. He’s sharp with numbers, his strategies are solid, and his understanding of the company’s inner workings is almost intimidating. I find myself learning from him, despite my reluctance to get too close. There’s a part of me that can’t help but admire his skills. It’s in these moments that I see why his father is so eager to pass the company on to him.

But even when I’m impressed, I never forget who I’m dealing with. Steve isn’t just the charming, knowledgeable businessman I see in meetings, he’s the same man who tried to control me, who made it clear that in his world, everything comes with strings attached. I might be playing along for now, but I’m not blind to the game he’s playing.

Several months had passed, and despite everything, I was doing well. Better than I could’ve imagined, actually. After a rocky start at Rogers and Co., things had stabilized. I’d found my groove, and it showed in every part of my life. I’d finally moved out of my parents' house, into my own apartment. It was small but perfect, a space that was entirely mine. With the salary I was earning, I’d even managed to save up enough for six months’ rent in advance, furnish the place to my liking, and afford the little luxuries I’d once thought out of reach.

My parents had even started to take me more seriously, no longer seeing me as the directionless daughter stuck under their roof. I lived comfortably, to the point where I’d started to consider investing, though I hadn’t made any moves yet. The thought of building a future for myself was exhilarating.

Steve, surprisingly, had been cordial, he seemed to respect the space I’d demanded. He’d backed off, let me work without constant interference, and in turn, I was thriving.

I was confident. Six months into the job, my probationary period was about to expire, and I hadn’t given it a second thought. I was sure I’d be hired on full-time. Everything had been going smoothly, no major mistakes, no confrontations. Steve hadn’t given me any significant feedback as of late, critical or otherwise, and I assumed that was a good sign. I was doing my job, and I was doing it well. So, when I got the call from HR to come into their office, I didn’t think twice about it.

I sat down across from the HR rep, offering a polite smile. They looked at me with an odd expression, serious, almost regretful.

“Kiwi,” the HR rep started, their voice firm but sympathetic, “we’ve reviewed your probationary period, and I’m afraid we have to let you go.”

I blinked; not sure I’d heard right. “Wait... what? Let me go? Why?”

They cleared their throat, glancing down at the papers in front of them. “Steve has made the decision. He feels that you’re not a good fit for the role.”

It was like a punch to the gut. “What do you mean not a good fit? I’ve been doing everything I’m supposed to. Steve hasn’t said anything, he hasn’t criticized my work or mentioned any issues.” My voice was rising, panic setting in. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

“I’m sorry, but that’s the decision that’s been made. You’ll need to clear your desk by the end of the day.”

Stunned, I walked back to my desk, my body moving on autopilot. As I started to pack up my things, I could feel everyone watching. Eyes darting in my direction, whispering behind their hands. And of course, Steve’s office was empty. No note, no explanation. He didn’t even have the decency to tell me to my face. He destroys my life and then disappears, leaving me to pick up the pieces.

With each item I placed in the box, the knot in my chest grew tighter. I thought of all the time I’d invested, all the effort I’d put in to prove myself, to create something stable, and in an instant, it was all taken away. The tears I’d been holding back threatened to spill over, but I forced them down, refusing to let anyone here see me break.

When my desk was empty, I walked out of the building for what felt like the last time, my heart heavy with disbelief.

That night, I sat in my apartment, alone, my box of things on the floor beside me. I’d been crying for hours, my face streaked with tears, eyes burning from the effort. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I was going to do now.

All the security I’d built up, the savings, the apartment, the comfort, it felt like it was slipping through my fingers. How long before I couldn’t pay rent? How long before I was back at square one, back with my parents, a failure all over again?

I curled up on the couch, my sobs muffled against the cushions. Steve had taken everything from me.

I spent the first month trying to find another PA position, convinced that if I could just get back on my feet, everything would be okay. The problem was, every PA job I came across paid significantly less than what I’d been making at Roger's and Co. It didn’t make sense. I hadn’t realized how much Steve had been paying me until I started comparing salaries. It was almost triple what others were offering for the same role.

I was getting special treatment.

The rejections came swiftly. And the ones that did reply were offering barely enough to cover my rent, let alone any other bills. I could feel my savings dwindling by the day, the anxiety building with every email that started with "We regret to inform you."

By the second month, I realized I needed to switch gears. There was no way I could survive on PA salaries alone, so I started looking into career paths that aligned with my degree. With a master's in finance, I figured I had a good shot at finding something that could keep me afloat until I could get a raise.

At first, it looked promising. I had multiple callbacks, even landed three potential offers. It felt like a light at the end of a very long, dark tunnel. I went through interviews, prepped like I was back in school, and felt like maybe, just maybe, I was going to make it out of this.

But then, it was just like when I first graduated: rejection after rejection plowed me down, and I found myself desperate enough to accept anything that came my way. And this time, it felt worse. I had real experience now, yet nothing seemed to matter. First, it was a phone call, apologetic but firm: “We’ve decided to go in a different direction.” Then another company, saying they’d filled the position. And just like that, the third potential evaporated too.

It didn’t make sense. Why did everything fall apart so suddenly? My heart sank as I realized this wasn’t normal. Something felt off. It wasn’t just bad luck.

On a hunch, I decided to apply for another job using a different resume. I changed my address to my parents’ house, applied under a slightly different name, and removed Rogers and Co. from my credentials. Suddenly, the floodgates reopened again. I got through to a second interview, and everything seemed fine, until I had to reveal my real name. I told them it was an error, thinking nothing of it.

The shift in tone was immediate. They told me I’d get a call back, but I never did. I showed up for orientation day, only to be told that the position had been filled.

That’s when it hit me. I was blacklisted. Steve had done this. He’d blacklisted me from my entire industry. No matter how hard I tried, no matter what qualifications I had or how well I performed in interviews, it didn’t matter.

I was ruined. $200,000+ in student debt with no clear end in sight. All because of one man.

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