Sleeping With My Boss

The rain pelted down in angry sheets, soaking Ivy Scott’s clothes as she stood in the middle of Thorn Enterprises’ private parking lot. Her chest heaved with a mix of frustration and adrenaline, her fingers clutching the strap of her handbag like it was the only thing tethering her to reality. “Are you out of your mind?” a voice snapped behind her. She spun around to see Ethan Thorn striding toward her, his six-foot-two frame cutting through the storm like it didn’t dare touch him. Even in the chaos of wind and water, his suit was immaculate, his expression carved in stone—powerful, unyielding, and utterly infuriating. “You don’t get to talk to me like that,” Ivy shot back, raising her voice to compete with the pounding rain. “I’m not one of your board members, Mr. Thorn. I don’t just sit there and nod at everything you say.” It was reckless, she knew. She’d only been his personal assistant for three weeks. Most employees lasted months before daring to question him, let alone shout back. But Ivy had had enough. Enough of his impossible deadlines, enough of the constant criticism, and enough of the way he looked at her—like she was both a challenge and a mistake. Ethan stopped just a foot away, his sharp jaw clenched. “You’re making a scene,” he said, voice low but dangerous, the kind of tone that made grown men in the finance department swallow their pride. “You humiliated me in front of the entire floor, Ethan,” Ivy said, forgetting to add the respectful “Mr. Thorn.” Her hands trembled, whether from the cold or from sheer anger, she didn’t know. “You think because you sign my paycheck, you can talk to me like I’m disposable? I am not disposable.” Something flickered in his gray eyes—annoyance, maybe curiosity—but before he could respond, a flash of lightning illuminated the lot. That was when Ivy saw him—Oliver Grant, Ethan’s notorious rival, leaning casually against his black Aston Martin a few meters away, smirking like he’d just been given front-row seats for free entertainment. This was bad. Very bad. “Perfect,” Oliver said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he approached. “The Ice King melting for his assistant? This’ll make headlines by morning.” Ethan’s jaw tightened, and Ivy instantly realized the trap: Oliver had been waiting for this, for any crack in Ethan’s iron reputation. Her heart raced. She had two choices: walk away quietly, let Ethan take the brunt of Oliver’s taunting, or act fast—make a split-second decision that could either save them both or blow up her career. “Enough,” she muttered to herself before stepping between the two men. “Oliver, right?” Ivy said, forcing a sweet smile despite the storm chilling her to the bone. “It’s funny you’re here, considering Thorn Enterprises owns half the shares your company’s begging for. You really want to add ‘creepy stalker’ to your résumé?” Oliver’s smug expression faltered just enough for Ethan to notice. Ivy seized the moment, yanking Ethan by the wrist and pulling him toward his car. “Come on, boss, we don’t have time for this.” For a moment, Ethan didn’t move—he wasn’t used to being dragged anywhere, especially by his assistant. But then, unexpectedly, he let her. Inside the car, the rain muffled into a dull roar. Ivy gripped the steering wheel, though she wasn’t driving, adrenaline making her tremble. Ethan stared at her, unreadable, until he finally said, “You’re reckless.” “You’re welcome,” she replied, trying to steady her voice. He almost smiled. Almost. “Don’t ever do that again.” But she saw it—the tiniest glimmer of respect in his eyes, like maybe she wasn’t disposable after all. When Ivy finally reached her apartment hours later, drenched and exhausted, she slumped onto her couch. Her phone buzzed. It was Sophie, her best friend. You on the news, girl. What happened? Sophie’s message read, followed by a link. With shaking hands, Ivy tapped it open. A grainy video of the parking lot confrontation played, zoomed in on Ethan grabbing her arm as she pulled him away from Oliver. The caption blared: “CEO Ethan Thorn in secret relationship with assistant?” Her stomach twisted, but then something worse happened—her bag tipped over, spilling its contents onto the floor. Among them was the small envelope from her doctor’s office. The pregnancy test results she hadn’t had the courage to read yet. Sophie, standing at the door with a shocked expression, stared at the envelope before looking at Ivy. “You’re… pregnant?” Ivy froze, eyes wide, every word lodged in her throat.