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 5
Three weeks.
That's how long it's been since the night with Dominic Steele, the night that changed everything and, apparently, meant nothing. Three whole weeks of avoiding eye contact, keeping conversations clipped and strictly professional, and pretending like I didn't still dream about the way his voice made goosebumps rise on my skin. You know, a normal post office affair with your boss's behavior.
The nausea started last week.
I pushed my favorite takeout away from me as it had personally offended me, and don't even get me started on the fatigue. If naps were a sport, I'd be a world champion with five gold medals. At first, I chalked it up to stress, but deep down, my womanly sixth sense started whispering something I wasn't quite ready to listen to.
Now here I am, on my lunch break, picking at a salad I normally love while having a venting session with my bestie, Sophie, on the phone.
"Girl, I swear to God, if he breathes near me again, I might just shove a stapler up his fancy Italian suit pants," I groaned, stabbing a lettuce leaf.
Sophie burst into laughter on the other end. "You mean Dominic Steele? The man you had a fiery one-night stand with and now have to work under?"
"Don't say it like that, it sounds worse!" I huffed.
"Oh, honey, it is worse. You caught feelings, and now Mr. Tall, Dark, and Sexy is acting like you're invisible. Like you're one of those dried-up plants in the office corner."
I snorted. "You know I watered that plant for three weeks before realizing it was fake?"
"That explains your love life perfectly."
We both laughed, and for a moment, the ache in my chest dulled.
"Anyway," I sighed, "I decided I'm keeping it strictly professional. He made it clear it was a mistake. So I'm matching his energy. Cold. Professional. Emotionless. Like a well-dressed robot."
Sophie cackled. "A sexy robot who might be pregnant."
"Shh!" I whispered, glancing around like someone might have bugged the office. "Don't jinx me! I haven't even taken a test yet. For all we know, I could just be having an allergic reaction to salad."
"An allergic reaction that causes cravings and boobs hurting as they went through fight club? Okay, Emily. Denial looks good on you."
I rolled my eyes and smiled despite myself. "Let me survive today first. Then I'll think about peeing on sticks tomorrow."
Just as I was about to reply to one of Sophie's ridiculous jokes, a loud DING echoed from the elevator. It was followed by the unmistakable sound of high heels clacking like they were trying to declare war with the marble floors.
And then she appeared.
A Barbie.
I swear, if Barbie got possessed by Regina George and thrown into a pink tornado, this would be the result. Platinum blonde hair in bouncy curls, a tiny hot pink dress that looked like it lost a fight with a sewing machine, and heels that made her legs look like they had their own Instagram account.
She eyed me like I was the dirt under her overpriced Louboutins.
"Hi, can I help you?" I asked politely, even though my inner voice was screaming, Girl, you look like you were spat out of Barbie's plastic throat.
She gave a little snort. "I'm Sabrina Rodriguez. Dominic Steele's fiancée. So technically, I'm your boss too." She gave me a once-over, nose scrunched as I smelled like expired milk. "Now, go get me a strawberry latte from across the street. Two minutes. Chop chop."
My heart. Stopped.
Fiancée?
I blinked. When? How? Since when?! I felt the world tilt slightly. The salad in my stomach turned traitor and tried to climb its way back up.
Still, I nodded with a smile that felt stitched onto my face. "Sure, ma'am."
Ma'am?! Ugh, kill me.
She strutted off into Dominic's office like she owned the place, leaving a trail of artificial vanilla perfume and heartbreak.
The moment the door closed, I bolted to the restroom.
The second I locked the door, I collapsed against it, sliding down like I was in some low-budget rom-com. Except there was nothing romantic about this.
I was the other woman.
I was the girl he cheated with.
And now everything made sense. The coldness. The "It was a mistake" line. The silence.
"You stupid, naive idiot," I muttered to myself, wiping away tears. "You fell for the boss on the first night. You might be pregnant, and he's freakin' engaged to a Barbie demon."
After a few minutes of ugly crying and motivational self pep talks, I pulled myself together. Lipstick reapplied, eyes patted dry.
Barbie asked for a latte. So Barbie gets a damn latte.
I crossed the street, got the stupid strawberry latte, and grabbed a few pastries for myself. Because apparently, my appetite didn't get the heartbreak memo. Didn't I just eat like twenty minutes ago? I wondered. Maybe I'm growing a second stomach.
Back at the office, I dropped my pastries and headed to Dominic's office, latte in hand. I was still distracted, mentally composing an email to HR about hostile pink environments, when I opened the door without knocking.
Big mistake.
There they were.
Dominic and Sabrina. Making out like it was the Titanic and they were trying to repopulate the ship.
I nearly dropped the drink. My hand trembled, but my face stayed neutral. Years of dealing with customer service, Karen's had trained me well.
I cleared my throat.
Dominic looked up, startled, like a deer caught in headlights. Then, quick as lightning, his face morphed back into its usual cold expression.
Sabrina turned and looked at me like I'd just farted on her Gucci dress.
"What?" she snapped.
I smiled sweetly. "Your drink, ma'am."
She waved me off like I was a fly buzzing around her crown. "Just drop it and leave."
I walked in, placed the drink on the table, and turned to leave. But not before giving Dominic a look.
A look that said, I know.
Then I said, loud and clear, "Anything else, Mrs. Steele?"
Dominic flinched.
Barbie glared.
I smirked internally.
She waved her hand like she was blessing me with permission to breathe. Rude.
As I walked out, I made sure to sway my hips just a little extra. If I were going to be the office scandal, I was going to be the hot one.
You don't get to have me, Dominic Steele. Enjoy your pink nightmare.
I sat at my desk, unwrapped my pastries, and took a massive bite. I didn't care if I cried and chewed at the same time. I deserved this croissant and an Oscar for my performance.
Tomorrow, I'll take the test. Tomorrow, I'd face reality.
But today?
Today, I survived. Barely.
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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?