Fake marrying my new boss

A new side to her boss

*Kiera*

A few days later when I am coming back from a late lunch, I spot Marissa, another secretary that I have been talking with a couple of times, leaning against the wall, scrolling through her phone.

“Hey, Kiera!” she calls out, her voice brightening the otherwise dull office space. “Have you settled into the routines of the job yet?”

“I am starting too,” I reply, forcing a smile despite my exhaustion. Everything is still new, and the move here has caused me not to sleep well. “I still feel a bit like I am constantly catching up.”

She gives a small chuckle, “No worries, everyone is a bit slow the first couple of weeks.”

I nod, hoping my smile is convincing enough. Marissa is friendly, and her energy is infectious. She’s the kind of person who can make a mundane day feel a little less ordinary, soI would like us to become friends, at least at work.

As we chat, Mr. Lund walks past us, his presence commanding immediate attention. I can’t help but glance over, watching how he moves with an effortless grace, his tailored suit hugging his form perfectly. I’m not the only one who notices; Marissa’s eyes widen.

“Ugh, he is so handsome,” she sighs, leaning against the wall with a dreamy expression. “Too bad he’s gay.”

I raise an eyebrow, curious. “Really? Is he?”

She shrugs, her casual demeanor suggesting she’s heard this before. “That’s what the rumors say. He’s never officially dated anyone. The only person he ever brings to any events is his best friend, David. And trust me, David is definitely gay.”

I feel a twinge of disappointment at the thought, irrational as it may be. Why does it matter? I remind myself that my focus should be on my work, on proving my worth in this new role. Also it is not like being gay makes him less handsome.

Marissa continues to chat about office gossip, but my mind drifts. I can’t help but wonder what the truth is behind Mr. Lund’s guarded exterior. He’s enigmatic, a man wrapped in mystery. I feel myself drawn to that, yet I know better than to let my curiosity lead me astray.

As the afternoon wears on, turning into evening, I find myself still sitting at my desk, surrounded by a sea of papers. The office is eerily quiet now, the glow of the fluorescent lights casting long shadows across the room. I glance at the clock, dreading how late it’s getting. Everyone else has left, but I’m determined to finish the Greentech files. I promised Mr. Lund I’d have them done before tomorrow morning, and I’d keep that promise even if it meant staying half the night.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, I finish the last document. The sense of accomplishment washes over me, mixed with relief, I do not want Mr. Lund to be angry with me… even if I have never seen him angry. I gather the papers and take a deep breath, steeling myself for the final task of the day: delivering them to Mr. Lund’s office, he is the only one beside me who is still here.

I walk through the hushed corridor, my heels clicking against the polished floor, echoing in the silence. As I reach his door, I knock softly, waiting for him to tell me to enter, before stepping inside, heart in my throat.

Somehow he still manages to maintain that perfect, cool facade, even at this time, after twelve hours of work, making me feel kinda scruffy.

The moment I enter, his phone rings. He holds up a hand, indicating for me to wait as he answers. I stand there, clutching the stack of papers, trying to ignore the flutter of nerves in my stomach.

His voice is low, speaking in a foreign language that I can’t quite place. The tone feels urgent, and I can sense the worry etching deeper lines across his forehead. Then, suddenly, he stiffens, his expression shifting from concern to something darker. The phone slips from his hand, clattering against the desk, and I instinctively step forward.

“Mr. Lund?” I call out, alarmed. He doesn’t respond. He simply sits there, frozen, tears streaming down his cheeks, and my heart drops.

Without thinking, I reach for his phone, my fingers trembling as I pick it up. “Who is this?” I ask, my voice steadier than I feel.

The voice on the other end is calm but laced with a gravity that sends a chill down my spine. “This is the Royal Danish Hospital. May I ask who I’m speaking with?”

“I’m Kiera, Mr. Lund’s… assistant,” I stutter, my heart racing. “What happened?”

There’s a pause, and I can almost hear the gears in the persons head, considering if they can tell me, so I add. “I need to know, Mr Lund seems in shock and I need to know how to help him.”

“I’m afraid it Was bad news.” The person says. “Vera Lund, his sister, has passed away. His niece is currently in critical condition.”