one night stand with my boss

CHAPTER-FIVE

Ella

Ella

Jess interrupts my sip of coffee by asking, "So what happened between you and hot stuff the other night?"

We’re sitting in my kitchen, with my laptop in the middle of the table. I'm still searching for a job. Kenny kept his promise: no one will hire me. It’s frustrating, but there’s nothing I can do about it right now. I continue to apply, but some people reject me instantly.

Her unexpected question catches me off guard, making me cough and sputter on my coffee.

With her eyes wide, she taps my back and asks, "Are you alright?"

I respond in a croaky voice, "Yes, I’m fine… Nothing happened."

“El, don't lie to me. I know you had s*x me and Elijah could hear you from down the hall, oh Jackson,” she says with a smile on her face. Making my cheeks turn red

I push her away and shrug, "Why ask if you already know we had s*x? It’s no big deal.”

She raises her brows and asks, “Was it good?”

“More than good. It was amazing, but it’s over now, so let’s change the subject.”

Pointing at her, I say, “Speaking of that night, you left without me, you bitch.”

“Hey, in my defense, you weren’t done when I left. I knew you’d be fine. Elijah said he wouldn’t hurt you, and I trust him.”

“Wait, you’re still seeing him?”

“Maybe,” she smirks.

After I take another sip of my drink, I ask, “You like him, don’t you?”

Her cheeks turn pink as she replies, “Yes, he makes me feel special.”

“Good for you, Jess. I love to see you happy.”

“I want you want to be happy too? Should I ask Elijah for his friend's number for you?”

“NO!!!”

Her brows furrow. “Why? Isn’t he a nice guy?”

''yes but I don't want a relationship, it was just me wanting to have s*x, I had a moment of weakness, it won't happen again''

“Hmmm, if you say so, sweetie. Come on, let's keep looking.”

After two hours of searching, frustration builds as I plonk my head on the table and groan.

“I’m never going to find one. Kenny has really messed me up.”

She rubs my back soothingly. “No, he hasn't. Just give it time.”

A few minutes later, she suddenly shouts, making me jump. “Bingo! Look, apply for this. It’s just been added!”

Turning the laptop toward me, I read the post aloud:

“Ambrose's Investments is seeking a dedicated assistant with experience who can be on call 24/7. If you're interested in applying, please contact us via email. We eagerly await your response.”

Without hesitating, I apply, and within 20 minutes, I receive an email back:

“Hello Miss Morrison, I am pleased to inform you that Mr. Ambrose has requested an interview with you today at 11 a.m. If you are available at that time, kindly let us know immediately so we can schedule the meeting. Best regards, Emily Brown.”

In shock, I stare at the screen. “Hello, Ella, anyone home?”

“I have an interview in one hour… Oh God, an hour! No, I won’t make it!”

“Wait, hold up, calm down. You have work clothes. Use them for now. Tomorrow we’ll get you some new things, but you need to get ready right now, so get your ass up and move, woman!”

We rush around my apartment, gathering everything I need to be ready on time. She throws some clothes at me. “Here, put this on.”

“Can you see my scars?”

“Yes, a little, but it’s not a problem. You’re beautiful with them. Change, and then we will leave. I’ll put your hair up.”

After a few more minutes, I’m finally ready to go. She picked out a black skirt, a pink blouse, and a black suit jacket. My hair is in a high ponytail, and my makeup is light. I can’t fight with hiding my scars; I don’t have time, so it will have to do.

“Are you okay?” Jess asks as we get into the car.

“I’m nervous. This is happening way too fast. They must really need an assistant for them to interview me today.”

“Yeah, maybe the other one got fired and they couldn’t cope. I don’t know.”

We take 15 minutes to reach the address, and I can tell it's the right place. The name is in big white letters, announcing, “Here I am, you found me.”

Pulling up to the curb, she says, “Hey, you need to go. You only have two minutes.” However, as I open the car door, she stops me.

“Look at me, El.”

When I turn to her, I see her serious expression. “Don't be anxious; be confident. Take this opportunity and nail that interview. You’ve got this, girl. I can feel it.”

“I will. I promise. I love you.”

I sprint toward the building doors and make my way to the reception desk, where a woman with bright pink hair sits, wearing a dark blue dress and bright red lipstick.

“Hello, I have an interview with Mr. Ambrose at eleven.”

In the most bitchiest tone she says ''Would that be Mr Ambrose junior or Mr Ambrose senior''

''I'm sorry, but I don't know. They never told me just to be here at 11 o'clock''

She tuts, and all I can think is, it's not my fault, lady. Take it up with the person who emailed me.

Fidgeting again, I say, "The person who signed it was Emily Brown."

. "That would be Mr. Ambrose's assistant on the 12th floor."

Rushing to the elevator, I take it to the floor I need. When I arrive, the doors open to a corridor lined with offices on either side. At the very end, right in the middle, is the largest office, and I assume that’s Mr. Ambrose's. Finding the assistant's desk nearby, I say, "Hello, I'm so sorry if I'm late. I have an appointment with Mr. Ambrose."

"Oh yes, Ella Morrison. Please take a seat, lovely. I will call you when he is ready."

Emily seems like a lovely woman. She has a big smile that shows her perfect white teeth and a good attitude.

I take some deep breaths as I sit down, hoping I get this position. I need it badly; my savings are dwindling quicker than I thought, and Kenny didn’t pay me my last paycheck, which I was expecting from him.

"Ella, Mr. Ambrose will see you now."

My head snaps up to look at Emily. "Thank you."

I hope he is nice because I really don't want another boss who’s a jackass.

Stepping through the doorway, I see a handsome middle-aged man with green eyes sitting behind an oak desk. His perfectly tailored blue suit molds to his body like a second skin, and the corners of his mouth reveal smile lines. Although he has a dazzling smile, I freeze for a moment, taking in his familiar face. Where have I seen this man before?

He looks at me with concern. "Miss Morrison, are you okay?"

"Y-yes," I stammer. "I'm so sorry, sir." As I walk toward him, I extend my hand, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervousness. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Ambrose. I appreciate the chance to be here today."

He reaches out and grasps my hand. "It’s a pleasure to meet you too." He motions toward the chair next to him. "Please, take a seat."

“Thank you, sir.”

"So," he remarks, resting his hands on the desk and linking his fingers together as he leans toward me. Feeling slightly intimidated, I adjust my posture, straightening my back and holding my head high.

"What qualifications do you possess that make you suitable for this position? According to your reference, it states that you exhibited unprofessional behavior during your tenure at your last job." He raises his brow.

"Yes, sir, but that’s not true. I was very professional."

With a furrowed brow, he asks, "Miss Morrison, what was the reason behind that statement? Please explain, as I’m a little confused."

"I worked for a man named Kenny Jones. I don’t know if you’ve heard of him." He nods his head as I speak.

"He ended my employment after receiving an email containing fabricated messages. I never sent them, and I tried to explain it to him, but he didn’t believe me. So he fired me and said he would get me blacklisted. I’ve tried for days to get a new job with no success until now."

He raises his chin. "Ah, so it seems what they say about him is true."

My brows furrow in confusion. "What’s that, sir?"

"He's a piece of work."

I laugh. "Yes, I promise I did nothing unprofessional. It was strictly professional."

He smiles at me. "Good for you for sticking up for yourself. Not a lot of women would do that."

"Thank you, sir."

"Okay, since I'm aware of your recent termination, there's no need for me to inquire about the reason for your presence here today. Can you tell me about your past work experience before taking on the last assistant role?"

"I worked in an IT department in Chicago for four years. After that, I didn't work for about two years, and then I had the assistant job."

"And what happened at that job? Did you get fired from there?"

I shake my head. "No, something happened in my personal life, so I had to quit. I loved that job a lot. Actually, I wish I never had to leave, but unfortunately, I had to leave Chicago."

"I understand. Is there any legal basis for your departure? Any criminal record or anything like that? If I do a background check, I won't be surprised by what I find." His eyes reveal signs of concern.

I bite my lip, feeling a slight sense of worry. If he conducts a background check, will the domestic abuse report be visible? Should I inform him as a precautionary measure?

"As I mentioned before, sir, I assure you I have no criminal history. However, there is a documented case of domestic abuse."

His eyes pierce through me as he asks, "Were you the abuser?"

"No, I was not."

"In that case, there's no need for you to provide any further information. The background check will only reveal warnings, convictions, and similar matters." His gaze is filled with sorrow as he looks at me. Now he feels pity for me, which is not what I wanted.

"Ella, given your background in IT, your knowledge of computers, your experience in assistant roles involving call management and scheduling, and your ability to advocate for yourself, I am pleased to inform you that you have been selected for this position."

I sat in shock, my mouth hanging open, until I realized he was staring at me. "I'm so sorry, sir. I'm just a little in shock. Thank you so much for the opportunity to prove I have what it takes. I take pride in my work, and I promise I won't let you down, sir."

He stood up and said, "I have no doubt in my mind, my child. Come on, let’s go meet my son."

"Your son, sir?"

"Oh yes, I'm sorry, Miss Morrison. I forgot to mention that you are my son’s assistant, not mine."