The Irresistible Billionaire

Chapter 19

“Respect in the workplace. That’s the most important part of working for this corporation. And that was entirely your idea, yes, Mr. Miles?”

Doctor Weathers, a woman in her late fifties, directed her attention toward Johnny. She peered over her sleek rectangular glasses, hands resting gracefully on her lap as she sat on the long sofa.

Her strict, stern, serious aura brought out a sweat all over me. I suddenly felt so hot—even with the air conditioner on.

“I did?” Johnny replied, unsure. Or basically just clueless about the policies, ethics, protocols, or whatever else. Because for real—it was Tamara and her power moves that shaped the company. Johnny? He just kept it breathing with minimal effort. Or should I say… with his "magic".

After what happened in his office, I thought I was going to lose my soul.

What those expensive people saw? Scandalous. It was wrong—a really bad sight. Total eye-sore.

Now I’m branded as a low-grade woman. And HR-approved behavior? Miss T’s idea. Not mine.

Tamara had to whip up an excuse. Johnny just kept living his life like nothing happened. And me? I died.

HR got involved. And now I’m five meters apart from Johnny, sitting in front of a therapist I just met today.

And honestly… my brain can’t help but wonder—Did Johnny bang this doctor, too?

“Mr. Miles, well… according to the reports, yes, you did.” She replied calmly. “Now, both of you are here, and I’ve been briefed on the workplace issue—by your mother, no less. This needs to be cleared up. Neatly.”

Johnny just sat there, eaten by boredom. He crossed his legs lazily and started wiggling his foot midair.

Meanwhile, I looked like a victim "and" a suspect. Sitting hunched, fidgeting with my unpainted fingernails.

“Ms. North,” she turned to me.

My back snapped straight like someone had just yelled “attention on deck.”

“You’ve been working at the company for years. I assume you're aware of the corporate norms, yes?”

I nodded. “Yes,” I replied, timidly. I felt small.

I glanced at Johnny—and choked on my spit. Mentally writing my resignation letter already.

He was just sitting there, existing, being such a huge distraction while checking out my legs.

What is wrong with this bastard?

My head throbbed from the counseling. Even worse was Johnny’s subtle, sensual body language.

“No up-close interaction for fifteen days,” she said firmly. “Let’s see if the situation stabilizes. If not, you’ll both return to me. And I mean it—no closer than five feet apart.”

“Is that all?” Johnny asked, already getting up.

I frowned. That’s fine with him?

So… what was all that anger, that jealousy, those demands? Just him flexing? Did he do all that just to slap reality in my face and prove I’m just another notch on his bedpost?

Shit. What a jerk.

As soon as Dr. Weathers dismissed us, Johnny left first—without looking back.

He’s really taking this seriously.

Darn him and his huge d**k. This is all his fault.

“I know you’re just doing your job, Ms. North,” Dr. Weathers said before I could stand. “But if you want to keep it professional, you have to resist a beautiful mistake. No matter how pretty it looks… it’ll cost you everything.”

If she only knew…

I gave her a tight, forced grin, then excused myself to go back to work.

As soon as I got out, I rolled my eyes and started grumbling.

“Bastard,” I wanted to scream. But I kept it in, kicking the air with a restrained groan. “He’s giving me false hopes—good afternoon!”

I was in the middle of acting out when someone passed by, gave me a weird look, and just kept walking.

“b***h,” I mumbled, heading to the elevator—only to bump into a wall.

Wait. Not a wall.

“Took you long enough. Didn’t I say I hate waiting?” Johnny stood in front of me, hands on his hips, looking at me like he wanted to gut me open.

He was still wearing the stained clothes. I’d pity him for not having time to change, but—hell nah.

I took a big step back like he had some contagious disease and made a cross with my fingers.

“The therapist said no interactions. I should stay away from you, you should stay away from me. And let's mind our own business. So let’s do that. Sir.”

He raised an eyebrow, then swatted my hands down. “She’s just a therapist. I’m your boss. If I say stay close to me—you’re staying on my ass. Got that?”

“On your ass?” I repeated with a grimace.

He smirked. Right on cue, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open.

Without a word, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me in.

“Why do you keep dragging me?” I bleated, snatching my hand back and adjusting my glasses.

“Because it's always hard for you to keep up,” he said, like it was obvious.

I scoffed, crossing my arms—but my stupid eyes kept flicking over just to get a glance at him.

“You know, if you want to look at me, just do it. No one’s around to remind you about that ‘code of ethics’ or whatever s**t that woman said,” he uttered confidently, leaning his back against the cold wall of the elevator.

And I did.

He gave the CCTV a quick glance, and then suddenly, the elevator stopped. The lights went out, and the sound of machinery whirred into silence.

I gasped in panic.

Then, the red emergency light flicked on.

“What’s happening?” I asked, eyes wide, scanning the space.

“Blackout,” he replied casually, like it didn’t bother him at all.

“Oh no. Oh no. Oh no!” I exclaimed, rushing to the emergency phone. I tried to contact someone outside—but of course, it didn’t work.

What? Isn’t this supposed to help?

“Why is it not working?” I turned to Johnny, only to find him watching me like I was some coward in a bad sitcom. “You own a whole-ass company, and this silly telephone doesn’t even work?!”

“Relax, the power’ll come back soon.”

“Why are you so calm?”

“Because nothing bad is going to happen,” he said, tilting his head and flashing a small smirk. “So... what are we gonna do to pass the time?”

I squinted at him. The little red lights didn’t help my anxiety one bit—if anything, they made Johnny look even more like the devil of the day.

With a scoff, I turned my back on him, silently wishing I’d taken the stairs instead and worked on my cardio.

“Why so cranky?” he asked, filling the awkward silence.

“Cranky?” I repeated with a mocking tone. “I’m not.”

He hummed, then hooked his finger around the waistband of my pencil skirt and tugged—clearly becoming his new habit.

I stumbled in my shoes, thanks to their uneven height. The heel was still broken, and it made it easy for him to pull me around like a ragdoll. This time, my back landed right against his hard chest.

“Could you please stop touching me like that?” I asked, trying to wiggle free. “I already changed my perfume. No reminder left of whoever it is you're obsessed with.”

“Yeah, I can smell your new sweet perfume. I like it. Kinky,” he chuckled.

I pushed his hands off and stepped away.

“Why act like this? Still thinking about our night in Boston?” he asked, letting me go but trailing a finger along my earlobe. “Oh, yeah. I forgot—'nothing' happened that night,” he sneered.

I didn’t know why, but my teeth were grinding. “It wasn’t that memorable, you said, right? So there’s nothing to think about, then,” I shot back, quoting him.

“Why sound so bitter?”

My patience was wearing thin for reasons I didn’t want to unpack. I turned—and his eyes were fixed on me, burning with something close to lust.

“Do you feel bitter because you had it with me and not the nice guy architect with the manners and kind face you like?” he asked, voice laced with fury.

If there was bitterness in my tone, his was poison.

“Did you wish it was him instead?”

“What are you even talking about?” I snapped. “That night was a huge mistake. You were drunk, and I was... hormonal or something, and I let you use me to meet your needs. Don’t bring Stefano into this conversation—he didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I see you’re still taking his side.”

“I’m on nobody’s side. I’m saying Stefano is innocent. But if you wanna hear what you’re trying to imply, then fine—yeah, maybe I do wish it was Stefano I spent that night with in Boston. Not my self-absorbed boss who values nothing beyond women and living a fantasy with thousands of them kneeling before him, not caring about a single darn thing in the world.”

His fist slammed into the wall, making me yelp. He charged in, cornering me in a flash.

“What did you just say?” he growled, his voice cold and threatening.

“I said, f**k you, Johnny.” With every ounce of courage I had left, I cursed him—filled with all the fury, all the pain. And then I spit in his face.

He chuckled. “Glad to give you my permission,” he said, grabbing the back of my head and slamming his lips onto mine.

Just like that, my anger melted in a millisecond. And all I could do was kiss him back—moaning against his mouth and savoring the moment like I was starving for it.

A gasp left my lips when his hand cupped my chest and started massaging.

“Now tell me... you still wish it was him?” he demanded, fully expecting the answer he wanted.

I had no words. None.

The lights flickered back on, and the elevator resumed its climb to his office floor.

“We’re not done yet,” he said, a flame in his eyes that warned me—loud and clear—of what was about to "come".