My Boss My Babydaddy
Roses are red, tequila hits hard, and I danced like I owned the damn night.
Now? Everything's a hot mess.
Emily Hart just landed the dream job, personal secretary to the sinfully rich, dangerously fine CEO of Steele Empire. So naturally, she did what any girl with a fat offer letter and a killer dress would do: hit the club, danced like a vixen, and threw back shots until reality blurred and pleasure took the wheel.
That's when he happened.
Dominic Steele.
Billionaire boss. Ruthless in the boardroom. Untamed in the bedroom.
He saw her, hips swaying, lips smirking, black dress clinging like a second skin, and he didn't ask for a name. He just took. One night. One filthy, breathless, back-arching night. No promises. No names. Just raw heat and moans that echoed past midnight.
Until Monday morning happened.
Now, the man who made her beg without words is standing behind a glass desk in a tailored suit,
And she's the new secretary who can't look him in the eye without remembering how he made her scream.
She thinks he's cocky as hell.
He thinks she's the sweetest kind of chaos.
But when a missed period makes an unexpected appearance, it's no longer just business.
It's Daddy, please....... with a whole lot of tension, temptation, and trouble in between.
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Chapter 4
Dominic's POV
"Telling her it was a mistake is the right thing to do; I can't afford for anything more to happen between us," I said in my head, standing up to stare at my window, which seems to be my safe space. Helps me think straight.
I thought it was going to be like every other one-night stand, but it wasn't.
It was way more than that.
Every thrust I made connected me with her.
Her every moan is stuck deep in my head, and they keep playing like a sweet, sensual record label. And I loved it. I allowed myself to feel that even if it's just for a moment. Just for a night. That was all it was meant to be. I never thought of seeing her ever again, especially not as my secretary, but I guess the universe has a way of messing with me.
Every other woman I've slept with, I don't mind seeing them cause it's easy to deny them or threaten them off my back. But this woman, who just walked out of my office as my secretary, I definitely didn't want to see again. I wanted to erase everything about her and about the night we spent together from my head.
A knock on the door brought me out of thought. "Come in," I said, sitting down and putting on my poker face.
Emily walked in with my coffee, swaying those delicious-looking hips of hers. I watched her set the cup down and turned back to walk out. So I spoke,
"Call the caterers, update the gala menu. Make sure the wine is from the Bordeaux private reserve."
These are things my assistant downstairs could do.
But I needed her near me just for a bit.
Then I heard it, the sass she muttered under her breath.
Something like, "Because God forbid the billionaires drink anything that isn't older than my apartment lease."
I nearly choked on my coffee.
My fingers froze. I looked up, and there she was, all innocent smile and sugary sass.
"Excuse me?" I said.
She batted her lashes. "I said I'll call them right away, Mr. Steele."
I stared at her for a moment before letting her go back to work.
After I had my coffee, I got consumed with work, and I shoved everything that had to do with Emily buried away. Where it should be. Keeping it professional is the right thing to do. I can't afford anything going on between us. It can never happen. I don't do feelings. I don't love. Someone is only going to get hurt, and I can't risk that happening. I'm already engaged to someone unwilling. An engagement that will definitely not end in marriage.
It is just a business deal, and that's all it will ever be.
"I don't plan on settling down. I don't think I ever will, and even if I do settle down, it will never be with Sabrina Rodriguez." I thought loudly in my head.
⸻
A few hours later,
"I need a drink," I said, rounding up the files on my table and grabbing my things to leave the office.
Getting out, I took a few minutes to stare at Emily before leaving.
"And something to take my mind off the woman upstairs." I got into my car and drove down to the nearest bar I could find.
–––
Third person pov:
The bar was dim. The kind of lowlight that made sins easier to commit.
Dominic sat with his third glass of scotch, his jaw tight, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to say he didn't give a damn anymore.
But he did. God, he did.
Because no matter how hard he tried to blur her out with alcohol, Emily's face kept slicing through the haze. The taste of her lips, the way her moans still echoed in his ears, the way he acts professional and cold in the office now, like he hadn't once been buried so deep inside her that she clawed at his back.
One night. That was all it took to screw up his head.
And now? She was his secretary. Imagine seeing her every day. Fucking. Day. In that tight blouse, with her little smirk, she tried to hide behind polite professionalism.
He ran a hand over his face.
"Rough day?"
A woman's voice broke through the fog. Sultry, bold. She stood by his table, blonde, curvy, with confidence dripping off her like perfume. Tight black dress. Full red lips.
He didn't even ask her name. Didn't need to.
Just needed to forget.
"You could say that," he said, voice low and smooth.
She slid into the seat beside him without permission. Her thigh touched his, and he didn't move. Instead, he glanced at her, smirking slightly. "Looking for company?"
"Depends," she said, leaning in, lips brushing his ear. "Can you play me hard enough to shut my brain off?"
He clenched his jaw.
Emily.
He pushed the thought away and stood, tossing bills on the table. "Let's find out."
⸻
His place. Lights off. The door barely shut before her back hit the wall.
Her lips crushed against his, wild, messy, greedy. But as his hands found her waist, his mind screamed Emily. When the woman moaned, it wasn't her voice he heard. It was hers.
The way her body fit against his perfectly.
The way this never made him feel the way she did.
He closed his eyes and exhaled through clenched teeth.
⸻
Stopped. He pulled out and stepped back, running a hand through his hair, his body spent but his chest, his head, still full of her.
The woman reached for him, but he was already moving.
"I'll call you a car," he muttered.
"You're not doing anything?" she asked, confused.
Dominic didn't answer.
He walked into his bathroom, turned on the cold water, and stared at his reflection.
One night. That's all it took to ruin him.
And still... she was everywhere.
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7.5
My genius boyfriend, Colten, was my savior. I was the "slow" girl he single-handedly tutored into NYU. He built my entire academic future, and I thought our love story was a fairytale.
But after I found another woman's birth control pills in his bag and caught him in lie after lie with his lab partner, Addisyn, I finally left him. The price was brutal: I failed every class and faced expulsion.
Desperate to save myself, I went back. I played the part of his sweet, obedient girlfriend, using his tutoring to ace my retake exams while secretly planning my escape to a new program.
The day my transfer was approved, he ambushed me with a public proposal. In front of a cheering crowd, he got on one knee with a diamond ring, ready to trap me in his perfect life forever.
"Will you marry me?" he asked, his voice full of triumph.
But before I could answer, a different woman stepped forward. It was Addisyn, and her hand was resting on her pregnant belly.
8.5
A spiked martini at her second-anniversary party led Amelia to stumble into a dark VIP suite, where she unexpectedly lost her virginity to a stranger.
Returning home, the morning light revealed her husband, Kyler, reeking of another woman's perfume, with red lipstick on his collar and a fresh scratch below his ear.
The suffocating guilt of her own mistake instantly vanished, replaced by a cold, sharp block of ice. Kyler, instead of apologizing, mocked her and threatened to cut off her ailing mother's nursing home funding if she didn't play the loving wife.
His two years of coldness and refusal to touch her, claiming stress, were exposed as a pathetic, disgusting lie. Amelia, refusing to be a victim, filed for divorce and began a digital hunt for the IP address that had wiped the club's security servers.
Amidst this escalating fight, she encountered Kyler's formidable half-brother, Jonas Brown, her old academic rival. The familiar scent of crisp cedar and dark tobacco, combined with a fresh scratch on his hand, sparked a terrifying, impossible suspicion.
Then, trapped in his car, a phone call confirmed her custom Cartier ring was missing from the very penthouse suite where she'd spent that fateful night. The horrifying truth slammed into her: Jonas was the stranger. Without a word, she Venmoed him $5,000.00 with the note: "Service fee and hush money." This was war.
8.9
Five years. Five years of waiting. Five years of loving him in secret.
She thought she knew the truth-until the night everything shattered. Trapped between a man who wants to destroy her and the wolf inside the one she loves, she must fight to survive... and to save him.
"Oh my God... what happened?? Why are you like this??" she cried, holding him close.
"It's already too late for me," he whispered, pain etched in every word.
"No!! You can't die!! I won't let you!!"
"I'm so sorry... I have never regretted having you as my mate," he murmured, a faint smile on his lips.
But some battles aren't won with strength alone. Some sacrifices come at a cost she's not ready to pay.
"I accept your rejection," he said, his final words tearing her world apart.
When love, loyalty, and rage collide, can Avery escape with her heart-and her life-intact, or will the ones she trusts the most be the ones who destroy her?
A heart-pounding, darkly emotional tale of love, betrayal, and the choices that haunt us forever.
7.6
When the kidnapper pressed a tactical knife to Falon's throat and demanded a one-million-dollar ransom, she was certain her fiancé would pay.
Instead, Jerod's annoyed voice echoed through the speaker. He was busy cutting a cake with his fragile, manipulative mistress, Abby.
"Do whatever you want with her," Jerod told the thug. "I am done."
The call disconnected. Left to die, Falon was injected with a lethal black-market aphrodisiac. She fought her way out, escaping into the freezing rain, and threw herself at the mercy of a stranger in a black Maybach. That stranger was Bell Farrell, a ruthless billionaire and Jerod's biggest corporate rival. To survive the burning drug and shatter the memories of her fiancé's betrayal, she gave herself to the devil that night.
The next morning, Falon woke up in a stranger's bed, staring at her bruised skin. For four years, she had endured her abusive family's cruelty, watching them treat her fake, adopted sister like a princess while using Falon as a corporate pawn. She had compromised everything for Jerod, only to be thrown away like garbage.
Why did she have to suffer while the people who destroyed her played the victims?
Falon took off her five-carat engagement ring and threw it in the trash.
She put on a sharp black suit and crashed her family's elite ballroom gala, ready to burn their high-society facade to the ground.
8.6
"Her blood type is a match. It’s the only option."
I froze outside the conference room door, the quarterly reports digging into my ribs.
I knew that voice. It was Ben, my husband’s best friend and doctor. But the next voice, cold and devoid of warmth, shattered my world.
"Then we do it," my husband Ethan said. "Chloe cannot wait any longer. If Ava is the match, then Ava is the solution."
For the past month, Ethan had been obsessed with my health, insisting on daily "vitamins" and endless checkups. He called it love.
Standing in that hallway, I realized he was actually shopping for spare parts.
"She is your wife, Ethan," Ben argued weakly. "You can't just harvest her like a crop."
"She became my wife because she was useful," Ethan replied, his indifference cutting deeper than any scalpel. "Now, she can be useful for this."
The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow. The nausea I’d been feeling wasn't stress.
I was pregnant.
And those "vitamins" he fed me every morning? They weren't supplements. They were poisons designed to ensure I remained a viable donor.
He was killing his own child to save his mistress.
To him, I wasn't a partner. I was livestock. An asset to be liquidated for parts.
I didn't burst into the room. I didn't scream.
I walked away in silence, my hand hovering over my stomach.
He wanted my kidney? He wanted to carve me up?
I decided right then. I wouldn't just leave.
I would terminate the pregnancy, fake my death, and burn his entire world to the ground.
8.6
Ten years ago, Rocco Valeriano made a choice. He chose the crown of a crime boss over the innocent light of his first love, Eliza Hawthorne. He forced her to run, believing it was the only way to save her from the darkness that consumed him. Now, she's back, an acclaimed artist unwittingly stepping into the crosshairs of a city still echoing with the Valeriano name.
Rocco, the ruthless and enigmatic head of the Valeriano family, rules his empire with an iron fist and a heart forged in shadows. But Eliza's return shatters his carefully constructed world, exposing the raw vulnerability he thought long buried. He'll stop at nothing to protect her, even if it means dragging her back into his orbit, controlling her life with velvet chains, and becoming the monster she always feared
Eliza, fierce and independent, resists his possessive power at every turn. She wants her freedom, her art, and a life untouched by his dangerous world. Yet, as threats from rival families close in, she finds herself trapped in a gilded cage of his making, forced to confront the impossible truth: the only man who can keep her safe is the one who broke her heart, and the only way to survive might be to surrender to the darkness within his 'Obsidian Heart.'
Can two souls, irrevocably changed by fate and choice, find redemption amidst a storm of violence, loyalty, and a love that refuses to die? Or will their dangerous game consume them both, leaving only ashes where a burning passion once stood?