Caught by the Boss

8

LEILA

Two months flash by. I continue to go to work during the day, and meeting Henry at night. I've mastered my lie. Every time I see him, I pretend it's my first time.

Work has been a great distraction from my guilt. I've been doing my best in the office, and my manager notices my efforts. I've met a few other coworkers, but my bond is strongest with Grace. We have lunch together every day, and have hung out outside the office. It's nice having a friend in this city.

I asked if she had heard of The Machine, and with a laugh she told me she would never use something so 'silly' because it's only used by 'weirdos and sexual deviants'. The subject was dropped after that, and I kept my little hobby a secret.

This morning it rained, but I made it to the office on time. I came across Grace by the entrance, and we headed to the elevator together.

A figure crosses the hall— broad shoulders that demand attention, and sharp eyes that are unreadable. I have only caught glimpses of the CEO around the building, but whenever Grace is with me, his eyes always wander over her.

"He stared at you again." I giggle in the elevator. We've been suspecting he has a thing for her. It's so thrilling imagining that my close friend could have an office romance with our boss.

Grace pushes a red lock behind her ear. "Did he?"

"Yes! I swear, you better remember me when you two get married. Don't forget all the cups of coffee I've bought you."

She lightly smacks my palm. "Don't be silly. A man like that would never approach me."

"Yeah, whatever. You better get me my promotion."

The elevator doors open as we arrive at our floor. I'm headed for my cubicle when my manager corners me.

"Leila, hey. I need a huge favor."

I nod. "Sure, what is it?"

"Well, you have experience being a personal assistant, don't you? I caught a glimpse of your resume."

My brows furrow. She's not wrong. While I was studying in college, I worked part time at a law firm for one year.

"Yes, I do," I reply.

"Don't get nervous, but my sister is sick and we need someone to replace her."

I fist my hands, getting a bad feeling in my belly. "Whose assistant is she?"

She cringes. "The CEO's. But don't worry! It's only for a few days."

I don't think my eyes have ever been wider as I gape at her. "I can't. There has to be someone more qualified. I just started working here a few months ago."

She waves her hands. "Please, you are an overachiever. I've been watching your performance and know that I can trust you with this. So what do you say? If you help us, I'll list it in my notes for your promotion evaluation."

Grace would kill me for hesitating. I know she's attracted to the big boss, and I'd have exclusive insight into his day-to-day that I could share with her.

Not wanting to fail my friend (or my promotion), I sigh. "Alright. I'll replace her for a few days."

— —

What have I done?

I sit at my computer, looking at the document that lists what I should and shouldn't do when in the vicinity of the tiger.

One of the requirements is: 'Don't blow on your coffee– he finds the sound irritating.'

So what, I'm supposed to burn my mouth with coffee when I'm around the guy?

I rub my temple. This is way above my paygrade. But I agreed, and it's up to me to follow through on my word. Hopefully, Grace won't be pissed that she wasn't the one to be offered the spot.

After packing up, I follow the instructions scribbled on a sticky note and go all the way to the top floor. The elevator door open, and the first thing I notice is how quiet it is up here. Every door is shut, and the landscape window overlooking the river is blurred by raindrops. I can't even hear the tapping of the water on the glass.

There's a stark difference between my warm, buzzing 22nd-floor office and this steely one.

I continue down the hall, towards the grey door without a name tag on it. As if everyone should know whose office room this is. I knock gently, and set my legs straight so they don't do the same.

"Come in," comes his cold voice.

I grip the metal doorknob, a shiver running down my spine.

Then I enter, and his eyes fasten on me. He sits behind a large wooden desk, but his crouched position doesn't make him any less intimidating.

The office is neat, not a single book in his bookshelf out of place. Even the carpet below my shifting feet is spotlessly white.

"You're Grace's friend," he says.

So he knows her by name? She'll be thrilled about this.

I straighten my spine. "Yes, sir. I'm Lau—" I bite my tongue to stop myself. I was about to say Laura! The name I only use when I'm in the machine, sinning and faking confidence.

"Leila."

He doesn't offer his name, instead pointing at a printed sheet. "Here are the tasks I need you to do today. They are simple. Run through as much as you can, and leave what you're confused about. I am not to be disturbed all day. Do you understand?"

I nod, stepping over the carpet to approach his desk and grab the sheet. The closer I get, the hotter I feel. Do all powerful men have this effect? This radiating power?

I grab the sheet and walk out of the room, feeling like I can breathe only when the door closes.

I look at the first thing on the list—fetch a very specific paperback that I have no clue where to start searching for.

I groan. Grace owes me big time for this.

—•—

I run through forty percent of the tasks by the time lunch rolls by. I pick up a sandwich from the cafeteria and text Grace that I'll see her later. I don't want to take a long break and risk falling behind on my tasks.

I'm unsure if I'm supposed to bring the boss lunch. It would be hard to hunt the hearts of his enemies. That's probably the only thing on the man's menu.

My grin is wiped off my face as I approach his door. I knock, intending on asking him what he wants me to bring him.

Instead of his steely voice welcoming me in, the door swings open, and he stands there with his tie undone and jacket missing. With his button down navy blue shirt barely containing his muscles, he's a sight to behold.

"I thought I said I did not want to be disturbed?" He grits, eyes glaring. The fury in them nearly evaporating me.

"S—sorry."

The door closes before I finish the word.