Seduced by My Boss

Chapter One

The alarm buzzed before the sun even touched the skyline. Amira Cole’s hand shot out from under the covers, blindly slapping at her nightstand until the irritating noise finally stopped. For a moment, she lay frozen under her blanket, heart pounding, eyes wide open, listening to the silence that followed. Her room still smelled faintly of vanilla and fresh laundry, the soft morning light barely creeping through the thin curtains. Today was the day. Her first real job. Her first step into a world far, far above everything she’d ever known. She sat up slowly, pushing her glasses higher on her nose as her gaze flicked to the outfit she’d laid out the night before: a charcoal-gray pencil skirt, a tucked-in cream blouse, and a soft brown cardigan. Conservative. Neat. Safe. She didn’t want to stand out. She wanted to blend in, do her job quietly, and hopefully keep it. Her phone buzzed again, this time with a message from her mom. "Good luck today, sweetheart. Be confident. You belong there." Amira smiled. Her mother always said things like that, like she truly believed her daughter could handle anything. It made her feel braver, even if her stomach was tight with nerves and she couldn’t eat more than two spoonfuls of cereal without feeling like she might throw up. Thirty minutes later, dressed, brushed, and double-checking her portfolio, she stepped out into the cool Manhattan morning. Her breath fogged up slightly in the air, and her heels clicked against the concrete as she made her way to the subway station. The ride was uneventful, though she kept rehearsing introductions in her head, adjusting her glasses every five seconds, and whispering things like, "Good morning, I’m Amira Cole. I’m the new intern," under her breath. By the time she stood in front of the SilverCorp building, her heart was in her throat. It looked like a skyscraper made of polished glass and money. Sleek. Unreachable. The kind of building that didn’t just house businesses—it devoured smaller ones and spat out luxury. She could see her reflection in the massive glass doors, and for a second, she questioned everything. Her simple makeup. Her no-brand handbag. Her whole existence. She was here. No turning back. Inside, the lobby was silent except for the faint clicking of heels, low murmurs, and the hum of expensive perfume and powerful egos. Men in suits. Women in blazers that probably cost more than her rent. She walked carefully to the front desk, praying her voice wouldn’t betray her. "Um... good morning. I’m Amira Cole. I’m starting today as an intern?" The woman behind the desk barely looked up, typing something into her computer. "Thirty-first floor. Take the elevators to your right." Amira blinked. Thirty-first? She thought interns started in HR or media. Not the top floors. Clutching her tote like a lifeline, she moved toward the elevator, dodging a tall man barking into his phone and a pair of women arguing over some account strategy. She stepped in just before the doors closed. The moment she turned around, she realized she wasn’t alone. A man stood beside her, facing forward, his hands in his pockets. Sharp black suit. Tailored. He smelled faintly of something clean and expensive. His jawline looked like it had been carved by a designer with a deadline. And he was tall. Not just tall, but imposing. His presence filled the elevator. Her eyes dropped to his shoes, sleek black leather. And then it happened. The coffee in her hand tilted forward. It was just a little. A slosh. Barely anything, but enough. Her breath caught as a few drops splattered on the tip of his shoe. "Oh God... I am so sorry," she gasped, fumbling for a tissue from her bag, nearly dropping the cup entirely. He finally looked at her. His eyes were dark. Sharp. Cool as ice. They didn’t flash with anger, but something worse—amusement. "Careful," he said, voice smooth and calm like he hadn’t just been splashed with caffeine. "Most people wait at least a full hour before committing workplace sabotage." Amira felt her cheeks burn. "I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. I—" She stopped, pressing the tissue to the shoe awkwardly, unsure if she should even be touching him. "Relax," he said, watching her closely. "You’ve already made an impression." The elevator chimed. He stepped out first. She blinked at the open doors, wondering what kind of joke the universe was playing. This wasn’t her floor. She’d hit the wrong button. Great. Heart hammering, she hit her assigned floor and tried to disappear into the wall of the elevator as it closed again. When she finally reached the HR department, she was still flustered. A woman in her forties with sharp eyes and a sleek ponytail stood near the desk. "You’re Amira Cole?" "Yes. Sorry I’m late, the elevator—" "You’re not late. Just... early for chaos, it seems." Amira blinked. Was that a joke? "Mr. Silver has asked for you specifically. He’ll be your supervisor." Amira froze. "Mr. Silver? As in..." The woman gave a small smile. "Yes. The CEO. He asked to meet his new assistant personally. Something about a... bold first impression." Amira’s heart sank. She followed the HR manager through a sleek hallway of tinted glass offices, her footsteps soft but full of dread. When the woman knocked on a thick wooden door and opened it, Amira stepped inside. He was there. Sitting behind a large desk, suit crisp, fingers steepled, those same dark eyes looking directly at her. He didn’t stand. He didn’t smile. He said, "Well, if it isn’t my elevator assassin." And smiled like the story had just begun.

She stood in the center of his office, stiff as a statue, her hands gripping the strap of her bag like it might anchor her to the moment. The walls were all glass, the air still and quiet, but nothing about the space felt open. It was suffocating. Modern. Sleek. A place designed to intimidate. Xander Silver didn't speak right away. He was seated at his desk like a king who didn’t need to raise his voice to be heard. One hand rested on a thick stack of black folders. The other drummed against the glass tabletop, each tap echoing a little too loudly in Amira’s ears. "So," he said finally, his voice low and smooth, "you're the intern HR sent to ruin my week." Her mouth parted, but nothing came out. She wasn’t sure if he was joking. His tone was unreadable. "I didn't mean to spill the coffee. I mean— I didn't know that was you. In the elevator." His eyes moved slowly over her face, and she felt them like heat sliding over her skin. "Do I look like someone who minds coffee on a thousand-dollar shoe?" She blinked, confused. "Um... yes?" That made something in his mouth twitch. Almost a smile. He leaned back in his chair. "Relax, Ms. Cole. Sit down. You're sweating." Her cheeks burned. She sat, clutching her bag in her lap, trying to still her fidgeting fingers. The chair felt too soft, like it would swallow her whole. "You studied communications, correct?" he asked, glancing at a tablet on his desk. "Yes. I graduated last month." "Top of your class. No experience. No connections. Why SilverCorp?" Her throat felt dry. She cleared it. "Because... it's the best. And I want to learn from the best. I don’t have a network or an impressive background, but I work hard. I'm not afraid to start from the bottom." His brows lifted slightly, just for a second. Then his face returned to its careful calm. "Good answer. But let’s be clear. I don’t do babysitting. I don’t coddle. If you make mistakes, I won’t give you second chances just because you’re new. Understand?" Amira swallowed and nodded. "Yes, sir." "Good. HR will get you set up. Your desk is right outside this office. If I call, you answer. If I need something, you get it. If I say jump—" "I jump," she finished quietly. He looked amused. Or maybe impressed. She couldn’t tell. Everything about him was locked behind this unshakable cool. "Let’s see how long you last." She stood as he returned to his screen, clearly dismissing her. She turned too quickly, nearly bumping into the edge of his desk before escaping the room. The hallway felt ten degrees cooler. Outside the office, a cheerful voice cut into her panic. "New girl? You look like you just got out of a lion’s cage." She turned. A slim woman with caramel-colored skin and short red curls leaned against a file cabinet with a half-eaten protein bar in one hand. "I’m Tasha. Marketing. Been here two years. You must be the new PA." "Yeah. Amira." Tasha gave her a once-over, not unkindly. "Poor thing. You got Silver?" Amira nodded, still trying to regulate her breathing. Tasha whistled softly. "D*mn. You're brave. Or cursed. Most girls last a week. A few days if they cry easily. You cry easily?" "Not at work," Amira whispered. "Good answer. Tea or coffee?" "Tea." "Excellent. I’ll bring you one at noon. Just survive till then." Her desk sat in an open corner space right outside Xander’s door. Glass walls on both sides. A small screen, a sleek keyboard, and a leather chair that was far too fancy for someone who felt this out of place. She sat down and took a shaky breath. Emails. Calendar. Calls. She could do this. She had to. By 10 a.m., she’d already messed up. A calendar mix-up. She had accidentally booked two overlapping meetings for Mr. Silver. She didn't even notice until a man from operations appeared at her desk and asked why his time was clashing with someone from finance. She apologized, cheeks hot, and corrected it in a panic, fingers trembling. Then the call came. "Ms. Cole. Inside. Now." His voice was calm. Which somehow made it worse. She entered the office, trying not to trip on her own panic. "You double-booked me. You realize I run an empire, not a birthday party?" "I’m so sorry. I—" "Don’t apologize. Fix it." "I already rescheduled one of them—" He stood, walked around the desk, and stopped beside her. "Show me," he said, pointing to the tablet in her hands. She turned the screen toward him. He leaned in. She felt the shift in the air immediately. His presence. The heat of him. His shoulder nearly brushing hers. She could smell that same expensive cologne from the elevator. Clean. Deep. Slightly spicy. Her chest tightened. "You corrected it here, but not in the global calendar. That’s what my department heads use." His voice had dropped, low and firm. Not angry. Just disappointed. That was somehow worse. "I’m sorry," she said again, quietly. "Stop apologizing and learn. That’s how you stay employed." He walked back to his desk without another word. She returned to her desk, humiliated and breathless. "Hey," Tasha whispered, sliding a cup of tea beside her elbow. "How bad?" "Not yelling bad. Worse. Quiet disappointment bad." Tasha made a face. "Oof. That’s Silver’s favorite weapon. You’ll build immunity. Or quit." Amira stared at her screen for a long time, rechecking every entry, making sure every meeting was in place. She wasn’t going to cry. Not today. Everyone left by six. Most of the lights dimmed. But she stayed. She stayed because she refused to let this place beat her in a day. She stayed because every mistake had to become a lesson, and she wasn’t going to be another assistant on his turnover list. At 7:13 p.m., the elevator doors opened. She looked up. Xander stood there, coat folded over his arm, expression unreadable. "You’re still here," he said. "I was fixing my mistake." He looked at her for a moment longer, then nodded once. "At least you’re not a quitter." And then he walked away. She stared at the screen for another minute, trying to calm the flutter in her chest. Not a compliment. But not cold either. Somewhere between ice and fire, his voice lingered in her mind. And Amira realized this job was going to be nothing like she expected.