Seducing My Boss

Chapter 4

The silence that followed was suffocating, heavy with the remnants of a tension that still hummed in the air between us. Raphael remained frozen, staring out into the rain-slicked streets of Makati, his profile looking as though it were carved from granite. But I could see the tight clenching of his jaw. I could see the way his fingers dug into his arms.

He was affected. And that was my victory.

Franco returned a few minutes later, stepping back into the car with a rustling plastic bag and a thick, oversized black hoodie bearing a luxury sports logo.

"Here are the medicines and the jacket, Sir Raphael," Franco said, passing the items to the back.

"Give them to her," Raphael muttered, not once turning his head.

Franco handed me the bag and the hoodie. The fabric was incredibly soft, smelling brand new and expensive. "Thank you, Franco," I murmured softly, making sure my voice sounded small, weak, and appropriately grateful.

I pulled the large hoodie over my head. It swallowed me whole, the hem reaching past my thighs and the sleeves completely covering my hands. It was warm—blissfully warm—and it carried the faint, lingering scent of the car's interior.

"Where to, sir?" Franco asked, his eyes catching Raphael’s in the rearview mirror.

I held my breath, wondering if Raphael would force the issue. If he demanded my address again, I would have to give him a fake one—perhaps a random street in a middle-class subdivision—and figure out how to get home from there later.

Raphael finally turned his head, his dark eyes sweeping over me. Seeing me swallowed up in the massive black hoodie seemed to do something to his composure. The harshness in his eyes softened, just an inch, replaced by a strange, brooding irritation.

"Take us to the Horizon Residences," Raphael commanded flatly.

My heart skipped a beat.

Horizon Residences.

That was one of the most exclusive, hyper-luxury condominium high-rises in the heart of the Bonifacio Global City. It wasn't my destination. It was his.

"Mr. Leonardo—" I started, my eyes widening in simulated surprise.

"You're in no condition to travel across the city in a flood, Soriano," he interrupted, his voice dropping into that authoritative, non-negotiable baritone. "And I have no intention of spending my night playing navigator in a storm. My place is closer. You will dry up there, freeze your ankle, and my personal doctor will look at you. Tomorrow, you can go home."

"But... that's inappropriate, sir," I whispered, lowering my gaze, letting my eyelashes flutter nervously. "I'm just your assistant. What would people say?"

"Nobody says anything about what I do," he replied coldly, though his eyes lingered on my face a second too long. "And frankly, I don't care. Franco, let's go."

"Yes, sir."

The car glided into the night, navigating through the flooded avenues with effortless grace. I sat quietly in my corner, my mind racing.

His place.

I was going to his penthouse. This was moving faster than I had ever anticipated, a dangerous acceleration of my own design. I had wanted a crack in his armor, but I had just been handed the keys to his fortress.

---

Twenty minutes later, the Mercedes smoothly entered the private, underground parking bay of the Horizon Residences. The area was brightly lit, filled with rows of sports cars and luxury SUVs.

The moment the car stopped, Raphael opened his door and stepped out into the dry, air-conditioned garage. He didn't wait for Franco. He walked right around to my side, opened the door, and reached in.

Before I could even brace myself, those same powerful arms wrapped around me, lifting me out of the leather seat. I gasped, my hands instinctively gripping his broad shoulders.

He pulled me flush against his chest, holding me firmly as he turned and walked toward the private elevator lobby.

"I can try to walk, Mr. Leonardo," I lied, leaning my head slightly closer to his neck, breathing in the intoxicating scent of his skin.

"Quiet," he grumbled, his chest vibrating against mine. "You'll only make it worse."

I sighed. I wish no one can see u in this situation.

The elevator doors opened automatically as he approached—activated by a biometric scanner. He stepped inside, and the elevator shot upward toward the penthouse suite with terrifying speed.

When the doors chimed and slid open, I was breathless.

The penthouse was vast, a minimalist masterpiece of marble, glass, and dark wood. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic, blinding view of the Manila skyline, the city lights twinkling like fallen stars beneath the dark, stormy sky. It was beautiful, sterile, and entirely lonely.

Raphael carried me across the expansive living room and gently placed me down onto a massive, cloud-like white leather sofa.

"Stay here," he ordered, before turning and walking down a hallway, pulling out his phone to make a call—likely to his doctor.

I leaned back against the plush leather, taking a deep breath. My ankle was throbbing painfully, a sharp reminder of the physical price I was paying for this gamble. I reached into the plastic bag Franco had bought, pulling out the cold compress gel pack.

By the time Raphael walked back into the living room, his tie was gone, and the first three buttons of his dress shirt were undone, revealing the shadow of his collarbones and the lean musculature of his chest. He looked devastatingly unraveled compared to his usual corporate perfection.

"The doctor is on his way," Raphael said, stopping a few feet away from the sofa. He looked down at me, his gaze dropping to my bare legs peeking out from beneath the oversized hoodie.

"Thank you, sir," I said softly. I reached down, pretending to struggle with the ice pack, letting out a sharp, pathetic little gasp as I touched my swollen ankle. "Ah..."

Raphael's jaw clinged, an annoyed but helpless sound. He walked over and knelt down on the polished marble floor right in front of me.

My breath caught. The billionaire CEO of Leonardo Enterprises was on his knees in front of me.

"Give me that." he murmured, taking the cold gel pack from my hands.

His large, warm fingers gently wrapped around my heel, lifting my foot to rest on his knee. His touch was incredibly tender, a jarring contrast to his harsh words and cold demeanor. As he pressed the cold pack against my swollen skin, his eyes drifted up, locking onto mine.

The proximity was dangerous. I could see the golden flecks in his dark brown eyes. I could see the slight part of his lips.

"You're a very troublesome assistant, Amara." he whispered, his voice a low, velvety purr that seemed to echo in the quiet penthouse.

"I didn't mean to be, Mr. Leonardo," I breathed, leaning forward slightly, my hands resting on the leather sofa on either side of my hips, bringing my face inches closer to his. I let my voice drop into a soft, intimate register. "But maybe... maybe I just wanted you to notice me."

Raphael’s hand froze against my ankle.

The air in the room turned scorching hot, despite the air conditioning. His eyes darkened, a fierce, burning hunger flaring to life within them. His gaze dropped to my lips, lingering there with an intensity that made my entire body tremble with a mix of fear and genuine, terrifying anticipation.

"Notice you?" he repeated, his voice raspy, a dangerous edge bleeding into his tone.

He slowly rose from his knees, shifting his weight until he was towering over me, leaning down so close our noses almost touched. "Amara, if I notice you the way you want me to... you won't be able to handle it."

I scoffed.

"Try me," I whispered, my heart hammering like a war drum, completely intoxicated by the danger of the game I was playing.

Raphael let out a low, ragged growl, his hand slamming onto the back of the sofa right beside my head, trapping me between his body and the leather. He tilted his head, his lips hovering a mere millimeter away from mine.

And in that dark, shadowed room, with the city weeping outside, I knew I had him right where I wanted him.

Oh boy, I know you want me.