My Cold Boss’s Secret Screen

The meeting ended.

The room emptied fast. No one dared look at me, terrified of catching Cassius's crossfire.

I slumped in my chair, my legs too weak to stand.

"Aria."

Elena walked over and grabbed my arm. She dropped her voice to a harsh whisper. "Are you insane?"

"..."

"You tried to video call someone right in front of the Boss? Who was it?"

I wiped my face and looked around. The room was empty.

This was my chance.

"Elena," I licked my dry lips, trying to sound casual. "Do you think... the Boss dates anyone online?"

Elena froze.

She stared at me like I’d grown a second head.

"Excuse me?"

"You know..." I braced myself. "On the dark web. Could he have an online girlfriend?"

Elena stayed quiet for three seconds.

Then she laughed. A cold, hollow laugh that made my skin crawl.

"Aria," she crouched down, enunciating every word. "Are you hallucinating from the stress?"

"I was just asking—"

"Cassius Falcone," Elena cut me off. "Thirty years old. Zero scandals. Do you know why?"

I shook my head.

"Two years ago, the youngest daughter of the Torres family thought she was pretty enough to sneak into his bed at night." Elena's voice was eerily light. "The next morning, she was dumped at her family's front gate. Both hands. Chopped clean off."

My stomach churned.

"The Boss doesn't do women. He's such a germaphobe he won't even drink from a glass a woman touched." Elena stood up, looking down at me. "He's not a man. He's a monster. The kind whose hands are permanently stained red."

"Stop listening to dark web rumors. Wake up. People make that shit up for money."

My throat tightened.

"I'm pretending I didn't hear this." Elena patted my shoulder. "But if you slip up in front of the Boss again, I won't even be able to collect your corpse."

She turned and left.

I sat alone in the empty boardroom, my hands and feet freezing.

I was dead.

That was my only thought.

Put myself in Cassius's shoes.

I was a stranger who made him call me Mistress. Who made him wear a collar and strip on camera to show off his abs...

That wasn't a kinky game. That was holding a blade to a monster's throat.

If he found out it was me.

He wouldn't date me.

He'd cut my tongue out and use me as part of a picture frame.

I could never get exposed.

At 9 PM, I dragged myself back to my leaky, run-down apartment.

Before I could even take my coat off, my phone buzzed.

[Mistress, the meeting is over.]

[Are you still mad?]

[Can I do it for you now?]

I stared at the screen, my fingers stiff.

My mind flashed back to how Cassius looked this afternoon. Cold. Vicious. Ready to drive me to my death with a single sentence.

Then I looked at this text.

[Just look at it, please, Mistress.]

I shuddered. The whiplash gave me vertigo.

I took a deep breath and replied: [No need.]

Instantly, my phone blew up.

[I'm sorry, Mistress.]

[I shouldn't have ignored your call during my meeting.]

[I was wrong. I'll pick up next time.]

[Don't abandon me.]

[Give me one more chance, please? Let me show you.]

A video call request popped up.

I stared at the green button, my finger hovering over 'Decline'.

Right then, another transfer notification popped up.

[Transfer: $10,000.00]

[Mistress, take this first. Just don't block me.]

...

I closed my eyes.

The debt collectors had called three times today. My mother was crying on the phone, saying if I didn't get twenty grand, they'd sell me off to a sixty-year-old man in the Romano family.

If I rejected Cassius now, he might finally give up.

But if I humored him tonight, next month's rent and my mother's medical bills were covered.

Plus, if I backed off now, his suspicions from this afternoon would only grow.

My only way out was to act.

Act until he completely believed I had absolutely nothing to do with the trembling restorer from today.

I took a breath and hit accept.

The screens were pitch black on both ends.

He didn't turn his camera on. Neither did I.

This was our unspoken rule for two years: No faces, no real names.

"Mistress?"

A deep, crisp male voice came through the speaker.

My whole body went rigid.

It was really him.

The same voice that sliced through me like an ice pick today was now dripping with honey.

"...Are you still mad?"

He was so careful, his breathing so light. It was like I could see the desperate, eager look on his face through the screen.

I typed.

[Not mad.]

A beat of silence.

Then, a heavy sigh of relief.

"...Thank you, Mistress."

His voice was actually shaking.

I stared at the dark screen, my mouth dry.

The man who made me want to kill myself this afternoon was practically crying right now.

[Didn't you say you'd show me?] I typed. [Then show me.]

He clearly froze on the other end.

"...Really? I can?"

His voice spiked with pure, unadulterated joy. He sounded like a golden retriever who’d just been told he was a good boy.

[No shit. Hurry up.]

"Okay."

He laughed. A low, breathless laugh that spilled through the speaker and made my ears burn.

"Alright. I'm starting."

The camera flickered on. A pair of long, strong, elegant hands appeared on screen.

Slowly, those fingers reached for the cold metal buckle of his bespoke trousers.