One Night With My Boss

Lina POV

I wake up before my alarm.

I don't even know if I actually slept. I spent half the night staring at the ceiling, replaying yesterday's interview. The way Ethan looked at me. The way he said impressive in that deep voice that did something terrible to my body.

And now... I'm hired.

I still don't know how to feel about it. Excited, nervous, terrified, all of it. But mostly, it's him. The man I thought I'd never see again. The one I had one insane, reckless night with in Chicago. The one who made me forget who I was.

Now, he's my boss.

I get to the office almost an hour early. HR told me I start at eight, but I wanted to look eager, professional, ready. Turns out, I'm not early enough.

Because when I step into the hallway leading to his office, his door's already open. And I see him sitting there.

He's behind a huge glass desk, sleeves rolled up, typing something on his laptop. His jaw's tight, expression hard. There's no trace of the man who once smiled against my neck, whispered filthy things in my ear.

He looks up.

"Morning," I say, forcing a smile.

His eyes flick up and down my outfit, a fitted black pencil skirt, a cream blouse, heels I can barely walk in. His expression doesn't change.

"You're late," he says flatly.

I blink. "It's..." I glance at my watch. "It's 7:45."

He leans back in his chair. "Exactly."

I swallow. "I was told to start at eight."

He stands up, slow. The chair creaks a little under him. And suddenly, he's walking toward me. Step by step.

God. He's taller than I remember. Broad shoulders. That same calm, quiet dominance that made me melt once.

"You should've come in earlier," he says, voice low, eyes locked on mine. "You want to impress me, don't you?"

"I...yes. Of course. I'm sorry."

He stops in front of me. Too close. I can smell him, wood, spice, something warm and expensive that makes my knees go weak.

He tilts his head slightly, his voice dropping just enough to make me forget how to breathe. "Next time," he says, "you'll add sir when you talk to me."

My lips part, but no sound comes out. I can feel my heart pounding so hard it hurts.

He's so close I can feel his breath on my cheek, warm and steady. His cologne wraps around me, thick and heavy. He looks down at me like he's remembering too. Like he's fighting it the same way I am.

I try to speak. "E...Ethan..."

He raises a brow. "That's Mr. Holt to you."

I nod quickly. "Yes... sir."

The corner of his mouth twitches, almost a smirk, but it's gone before it forms. He steps back just enough for me to breathe again.

"Good," he says. "You'll report directly to me. You'll assist with scheduling, communication, and any additional tasks I assign. Understood?"

I nod again. "Yes, sir."

"Say it clearly."

"Yes, sir."

He holds my gaze for a moment longer, like he's testing me. Then he turns, walking back toward his desk. The air between us feels electric, heavy, like something's been set on fire.

He sits down, not looking up again. "You can start by reviewing the quarterly reports on my desk. Make notes of any inconsistencies. Don't make mistakes."

"Yes, sir," I manage, even though my voice sounds like it's barely holding itself together.

I move toward the corner of the office where a smaller desk has been set up for me. My hands are shaking, so I clutch my bag to keep them steady. I can still feel his eyes on me, even though he's not looking.

This is fine, I tell myself. You're here for work. You can do this. It's just a job.

Except it doesn't feel like just a job. Not when every breath I take smells like him. Not when I can still feel the heat from where he stood. Not when my skin still remembers the feel of his hands from that night.

I sit down, open the folder on my desk, and try to focus. Numbers, charts, lines of data. It's useless. My brain is fried.

I sneak a glance at him.

He's focused on his screen, fingers moving fast on the keyboard, sleeves rolled just high enough to show strong forearms. His tie's loosened a little, and I remember what that used to mean. That night, when his tie ended up on the floor...

Stop.

God, I need to stop.

I force my eyes back on the papers, but my body doesn't listen. I can feel every nerve awake, every inch of me too aware of him.

I hear his voice suddenly, calm but sharp. "You're distracted."

I jerk my head up. "No, sir."

He studies me for a second, that unreadable expression still on his face. "You'll need to be better than that."

"Yes, sir."

He goes back to typing, but my cheeks are on fire.

It's ridiculous. I should not feel like this. Not after all this time. Not when I promised myself that night was a mistake.

But standing this close to him again, hearing that voice, smelling that cologne, it's like my body's betraying me.

Every second that passes feels too long. I can hear the faint hum of the AC, the clicking of his keyboard, the thud of my own heartbeat.

At one point, he stands again. He walks past me, just close enough that his sleeve brushes my shoulder. My breath catches.

He stops by the window, adjusts his cufflinks, then turns slightly toward me.

"You'll find I have high standards," he says, his tone softer now but still firm. "Don't make me regret hiring you."

I look up. "You won't, sir."

He holds my gaze again, and something flickers there. Something dangerous. Something that says he remembers too.

And maybe I imagine it...but for a second, it feels like he wants to say something else. Something he shouldn't.

Instead, he nods. "Good."

The silence after that feels endless. I keep pretending to read the files, but all I can think about is how his voice sounds when he says sir. How close he was. How easy it would be to reach out, to close that space, to kiss him like I did once.

But then I blink, and the fantasy fades. He's my boss. My untouchable, intimidating, insanely hot boss.

And I'm sitting here with my stupid heart racing like I'm seventeen again.

I press my pen to the paper, forcing myself to breathe. Be normal, Lina. Act normal.

But it's useless. Every time he moves, every time he speaks, my mind goes right back to him. His hands. His mouth. That night.

I almost laugh at myself. God, I'm so screwed.

He glances up again, probably noticing the smile I'm trying to hide.

"Something funny, Ms. Hayes?"

"No, sir," I say quickly, biting my lip.

He leans back in his chair, eyes narrowing just slightly, like he's trying to figure me out. Then he nods toward the papers. "Get to work."

"Yes, sir."

I drop my eyes back down.

He starts typing again, and the room fills with that soft rhythm...keyboard clicks, low breaths, silence.

And all I can think is how unreal this feels. How I'm supposed to act like a normal assistant when the man sitting a few feet away once made me lose my mind.

How I'm supposed to pretend I don't still feel him.

I exhale slowly, letting the words slip out under my breath, barely above a whisper.

"I have a crush on my boss."