My Flash Husband Is My Boss

Chapter 3

"Don't worry, wife. I will tell them you are my wife. Right now. In front of everyone. Unless you kiss me first."

His lips were inches from mine. His hand was still on my waist. His other hand was holding my left hand with the gold band he just forced back on my finger.

And outside his locked office door, my cousin Chloe Monroe was waiting for her interview as Senior Designer.

My body was shaking. Anger and panic.

"Seth, are you insane? Let go. She will hear you."

"Then kiss me," he whispered, eyes dark. "One kiss, wife. And I will keep our secret. I will not tell the board that my Junior Architect is actually Mrs. Vega who married me in a laundromat dried wedding dress."

"You are blackmailing me," I hissed. "My own husband is blackmailing me."

"I'm negotiating," he said with that slow dangerous smile. "CEO skill."

The knocking came again, louder.

"Mr. Vega? Chloe Monroe is here."

It was Sarah from HR.

Seth did not move. He stared at me, waiting.

"Elise," he said quietly, voice serious now. "If she comes in and sees you here with the door locked, with your ring on, she will know. She will tell everyone you married a stranger two days after Daniel. Do you want that? Or do you want to give me one kiss and we walk out like professionals?"

He was right. I hated that he was right.

Chloe would destroy me if she knew. She would tell the whole office I was a desperate runaway bride.

I had to keep this secret. At least until I was stable.

"One kiss," I whispered. "And you will not tell anyone I am your wife. Not Chloe. Not HR. Not the board. We are just boss and employee here."

"At work," he repeated, eyes dropping to my lips. "At home, you are still my wife."

"Fine."

"Deal, Miss Monroe," he said.

He leaned down, giving me the chance to back out.

I didn't.

I stood on my tiptoes, my cheap H and M blazer brushing against his $8,000 Tom Ford suit, and I kissed him.

It was supposed to be quick. A peck. A deal.

It was not.

The second my lips touched his, his hand tightened on my waist and pulled me flush against him. His other hand tangled in my messy bun, tilting my head. He kissed me like he had been waiting since City Hall. Since the bar.

It was deep, possessive, hungry. Nothing like Daniel's soft boring kisses.

I gasped against his mouth and he deepened it. I forgot where we were. I forgot about Chloe outside. I forgot about Vega Tower.

Then the door handle rattled.

We broke apart, both breathing hard.

My lips were swollen. His tie was crooked. My blazer was wrinkled.

"You are terrible at keeping contracts, wife," he whispered, voice rough.

"You said one kiss," I hissed, fixing my blazer.

"That was not a kiss. That was a war," he said.

He walked back to his desk like nothing happened, straightened his tie, and pressed unlock.

Click.

"Come in," he said, his cold CEO voice back perfectly, as if he had not just kissed me against the wall five seconds ago.

The door opened.

Sarah came in first, smiling. And behind her, Chloe.

Chloe looked like she walked out of Vogue. Blonde hair curled. White Chanel blazer. Red lipstick. The same red lipstick she wore when she was in my bed with Daniel.

Her eyes landed on me. Her smile froze.

"Elise?" she said, loud, fake sweet. "Oh my god, Elise! What are you doing here?"

Sarah looked confused. "You two know each other?"

"Know each other?" Chloe laughed. "This is my cousin. My little cousin Elise. Oh my god, I didn't know you applied here. I thought you were busy with your wedding? How was the wedding? How is Daniel?"

She knew exactly how the wedding was.

I felt Seth's eyes on me from behind his desk.

I forced a smile. "Hi, Chloe. The wedding was canceled. Daniel and I broke up."

"Oh no," Chloe said, hand over mouth, fake shocked. "I'm so sorry. Daniel didn't tell me."

Liar.

"Anyway," she turned to Seth, soft, flirty. "Mr. Vega, thank you so much for seeing me. I'm Chloe Monroe, I applied for Senior Designer. I graduated from Parsons, top of my class. I interned at Dior in Paris."

She walked to his desk, swaying her hips. She placed her resume on his desk, her hand brushing his.

I wanted to vomit.

Seth did not even look at her resume. He looked at me.

"Miss Monroe," he said, but he was looking at me, not Chloe. "There are two Miss Monroes here. This will be confusing."

"Oh, she is Elise," Chloe said quickly. "I'm Chloe. We are cousins but very different. I'm Senior Designer level. She is Junior, right? Just starting?"

Her words were knives.

Seth finally looked down at Chloe's resume. For two seconds. Then he pushed it aside.

"Parsons, top of class," he said, voice cold, bored. "Impressive. But Vega Corporation does not hire based on where you studied. We hire based on loyalty. And discretion. Two qualities that are very rare in New York."

Chloe blinked.

Sarah jumped in. "Chloe has excellent references, Mr. Vega. Her last boss at—"

"I don't care about references," Seth cut her off, eyes still on me. "I care about character. Miss Chloe Monroe, are you a loyal person?"

"Of course, Mr. Vega. I am extremely loyal. To the company, to my team—"

"To your family?" Seth asked, voice sharp.

Chloe froze. Then smiled again. "Of course. Family is everything to me."

I almost laughed.

Seth leaned back in his chair.

"Good. Because we have a strict policy here. No office drama. No sleeping with your cousin's fiance and then applying for a job in the same building as her."

Silence.

Complete silence.

Sarah's mouth dropped. Chloe's face turned white, then red.

"I... I don't know what you mean," Chloe stammered.

"Don't you?" Seth said, voice dangerously soft. "Let me be clear, Miss Chloe Monroe. Vega Corporation is a family company. We value family above all. And we do not hire people who betray their own family for a man."

He stood up. Tall, imposing.

"Sarah, Miss Chloe Monroe is not a fit for Vega Corporation culture. Please escort her out. And make sure she is removed from the candidate list."

"What?" Chloe shrieked, mask breaking. "You can't do that. I will sue,"

"You can try," Seth said, smiling coldly. "My lawyers are on floor 50. They love lawsuits."

Sarah, pale, grabbed Chloe's arm. "Miss Monroe, please, let's go."

Chloe looked at me, eyes full of hatred.

"This is your fault, isn't it?" she hissed at me. "You told him. You jealous little,"

"Chloe," Seth's voice cracked like a whip. "One more word to my employee and I will make sure you never work in fashion in New York again."

Chloe flinched.

"This isn't over, Elise," she whispered before Sarah pulled her out.

The door closed. Click.

Silence again. Just me and Seth.

My whole body was shaking.

He fired her. He fired my cousin for me. Risking a lawsuit.

"Why did you do that?" I whispered, tears in my eyes.

He walked around his desk and cupped my face with both hands, wiping tears I didn't know had fallen.

"Because she made my wife cry," he said quietly, voice soft and possessive. "No one makes my wife cry. Not even family."

"I am not your real wife," I said, but no fight left.

"You are wearing my ring, Elise," he said, looking at my hand. "You kissed me back. You are my real wife. Contract or not."

He leaned down, forehead touching mine.

"And now the whole 48th floor knows I protected you. They will talk. They will think we are sleeping together."

My eyes widened. "Seth, no,"

"Let them think," he whispered against my lips. "Let them think my wife is my mistress. It is more interesting that way."

He kissed me again. Soft this time.

Then his desk phone rang loud.

He groaned and answered on speaker.

"Mr. Vega, your mother is here," said the receptionist. "Mrs. Eleanor Vega is here to see you. She says it is urgent. She is coming up now with the board."

Seth's whole body went rigid.

My blood turned to ice.

His mother. Mrs. Eleanor Vega. The matriarch. The woman who, according to Google, hated gold diggers and chose her son's wife herself.

The woman who had no idea her billionaire son married a broke Junior Architect from Brooklyn two days ago at City Hall.

Seth looked at me, panic flashing in his eyes for the first time.

"Elise, you need to hide. Now. In my bathroom. If my mother sees you,"

Too late.

The double doors burst open without a knock.

A tall, elegant woman in her 60s, wearing a black Chanel suit and pearls that cost more than my apartment building, walked in. Behind her, three old men in suits. The board.

And she looked straight at me. At my hand in her son's hand. At my swollen lips. At my cheap blazer.

Her eyes narrowed.

"Seth Alessandro," she said, voice cold and aristocratic, with a heavy Italian accent. "Who is this girl? And why is she wearing the Vega family heirloom ring that belonged to your grandmother?"