The CEO Couldn't Walk, But I Made Him Fall For Me

Back To The Office

Two months later.

The first time I saw Damian Harrison walk into the Harrison Corp building without a wheelchair, I cried in the elevator.

Not in front of him. Obviously.

I waited until the doors closed.

"6th floor," I said. Professional. Because he said that we're just a boss and his secretary in the office.

"Thank you, Arabella," he said, professionally. CEO voice.

Yes, for these past two months, CEO Damian Harrison is back.

Damian who is bossy.

Damian the businessman.

He made some excuses, like he had been absent for months, and he needed to catch up with some important deals and documents.

But his hand was gripping the cane. White knuckles.

And he was sweating.

Is he in pain again?

Switzerland worked.

60% became 100% for him.

The surgery, the 8 weeks of hellish rehab, the screaming at 3am in Zurich... all of it led to this.

Damian Harrison walking back into his own company.

And everyone was shocked because, in 2 months, he stood up and even walked.

"Everyone's staring," he murmured as we stepped out.

"Let them stare," I said. "You earned it."

We didn't look at each other.

We haven't looked at each other like that since Zurich.

Since the almost real couple things.

We're back to business. And I've been back to my daily occupation as a perfect secretary.

Back to contract.

My new title: Executive Secretary to CEO.

Pay raise: 40%.

Contract duration: Still 1 year. 8 months left.

"Morning reports on my desk by 8:30," Damian said, sitting behind his massive desk.

He sat down himself. No help.

It took him 10 seconds, and I was proud of him.

He's putting effort into his rehab without doing too much.

"Yes, Mr. Harrison."

"Arabella."

"Yes?"

"Don't 'Mr. Harrison' me when it's just us."

I blinked. "What should I call you?"

"Damian."Pause. "When it's just us."

He cleared his throat and looked at his computer.

"Meeting at 10. Be ready."

How could I not call him Mr Harrison when he speaks to me with this tone?

Right now it's time to go back to work.

---

The day was chaos.

Board members who thought he’d never return. Investors asking if he’s "fully capable."

Reporters outside.

And Damian handled all of it. Standing. Walking to the head of the table.

Gripping the podium so no one would see his hands shake.

I took notes. Poured water. Smiled at clients.

And every time he stumbled over a word from exhaustion, my heart stopped.

At 6 PM, the office emptied.

"Come on," he said, grabbing his cane. "Rehab."

"Rehab?" I frowned. "You still have to go?"

"Twice a week. Doctor's orders. For life, probably."

The rehab center was 10 minutes from the office. Private. Expensive.

And empty at night because Damian paid extra for that.

"Why do you want me to come?" I asked in the car.

"Because you were there in Zurich," he said simply. "And because... I trust you."

We didn't talk about the fact that "trust" wasn't in the contract.

Rehab was brutal.

"10 laps of the parallel bars, Mr. Harrison."

"That's new," Damian gritted out.

"You can do it."

I sat on the bench. Watching.

Every step he took was a victory and a reminder.

He didn't need me to hold him up anymore.

On lap 7, he stumbled.

My body moved before my brain.

I was at his side in 2 seconds.

"I'm fine," he said, but he was breathing hard.

"Let me—"

"I said I'm fine, Arabella."

His tone was sharp. The CEO tone.

I stepped back. Hurt.

I know he's in pain, but he doesn't need to speak to me like that.

I just wanted to help him not to be embarrassed like that in front of his therapist.

The therapist intervened. "Maybe take a break?"

Damian nodded. Sat on the bench next to me. Not touching.

5 inches of space between us. Might as well be a mile.

"Sorry," he said after a minute.

"For what?"

"For snapping. I hate that you saw that."

"I've seen worse."

He laughed. Tired. "Yeah. Zurich."

Silence again.

But this time it was comfortable.

"Do you remember what you were mumbling in your sleep?" I asked quietly.

"I was on pain meds."

"Oh."

"That doesn't mean I didn't mean it," he said quickly. Too quickly.

Then he stood up. "Lap 8."

9 PM. Back to the office.

He insisted on finishing emails.

"Go home, Arabella. It's late."

"I'm your secretary. My job is to stay until you leave."

"That wasn't in the contract."

"I added it myself."

He looked at me over his laptop.

"You're stubborn."

"If I wasn't stubborn, I wouldn't be your secretary."

"And you haven't changed."

I dropped a file on his desk.

"Sign this."

He signed. Our hands brushed.

His touch burned my skin.

And that sent a shiver down my spine.

Neither of us pulled away for 1 second too long.

"Damian," I whispered.

"Arabella," he whispered back.

The phone rang, pulling us out of our moments.

He answered it. The moment was gone.

---

11 PM. Walking him to his car.

"You should let the driver take you," I said.

"I can walk to my car."

"I know you can."

We stopped at his black Maybach.

He leaned on it. Tired.

"Today was good," he said.

"It was."

"Thank you. For being here. For all of it."

"I'm just doing my job."

"Liar," he said softly. "This isn't in the contract either."

My heart was racing.

"Goodnight, Damian."

"Goodnight, Arabella."

He got in the car. I watched it drive away.

Alone in the parking garage, I pressed my hand to my chest.

Step 1: Make him walk.

Step 2: Don't fall for your boss. Failed.

Step 3: Don't let your boss fall for you. Loading...

My phone buzzed.

`Rehab again on Thursday 6pm.

Don't be late.

- D`

P.S: `Thank you for today.`

I smiled. Stupidly.

We're not a real couple.

We're boss and secretary.

We have a contract.

So why did it feel like he was asking me on a date?