Monday Morning
578 Words
Olivia considered two options.
Option A: Pretend she was having a stroke and collapse dramatically.
Option B: Run.
She chose Option C: Stand there like a freshly tasered pigeon while her new boss leaned against the edge of his desk—the same desk she’d been bent over two nights ago—and smirked.
“Olivia Lane,” he drawled, eyeing the résumé folder in his hand like it had personally betrayed him. “Executive assistant. Graduated top of your class. Fluent in French, Spanish, and sarcasm, apparently.”
Her mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.
Words. She needed them.
“I—um. Hi.”
Hi. Brilliant.
He walked toward her, each step slow and deliberate, like a man completely in control—and very amused by her lack of it. Her brain helpfully flashed back to the way his hands had gripped her thighs.
He held out his hand. “Nathaniel Blackwell. CEO.”
Olivia stared at it like it might detonate.
Finally, she shook it.
Big mistake.
That same electric pulse zipped through her bloodstream like caffeine laced with sin. His palm was warm. Strong. And his thumb casually grazed hers like he remembered exactly what she tasted like when moaning into his mouth.
“Well,” he said softly, “you took ‘first impressions’ to a whole new level.”
She yanked her hand back. “I didn’t know! I had no idea you were—”
“The boss?” His smile widened. “I figured.”
She scowled. “You didn’t tell me your name either.”
“I was going for mystery. You were going for tequila and vengeance sex.”
“I regret everything,” she said immediately.
His eyes sparkled. “I don’t.”
---
The rest of the morning was a blur of chaos.
He acted professional. Mostly. Introduced her to the team. Didn’t mention the one-night stand once… until they were alone in his office again.
“I’m a big believer in workplace boundaries,” he said smoothly, sipping coffee. “Of course, we’ve already shattered most of them.”
“You think this is funny,” she muttered, clutching her notepad like a shield.
“I think it’s fate.”
She nearly threw a stapler at him.
---
At lunchtime, she snuck into the break room only to find two junior staff whispering.
“I heard Mr. Blackwell was at that gala this weekend,” one said. “Rumor is he left with someone.”
“Someone hot?”
“Always.”
Olivia backed out of the room like she was in a horror movie.
Rule #1: No one could know. No one could ever, ever know.
Unfortunately, her body language screamed I slept with the boss and now I’m malfunctioning internally.
---
By 5 PM, Olivia was emotionally exhausted, professionally humiliated, and sexually frustrated—because why did he have to look so good in a suit?
As she gathered her things, Nathaniel appeared at her desk.
“Dinner?” he asked casually. “To clear the air.”
She blinked. “Clear the air?”
He leaned down, voice a low murmur. “I’m trying to be a gentleman. But I keep picturing you on my desk again.”
Her knees buckled.
She recovered with pure spite. “Then I guess you’ll just have to suffer.”
And she left him standing there, smirking like a man who enjoyed the pain.
---
- Writer
