The Fake Confession Bonus

[ Zelle Transfer Received: 0-05,000. ]

A bright notification slashed across my phone screen. My fingernails dug into my palms as I stared at that familiar landscape profile picture. A cold sweat broke out across the back of my neck.

That wasn't my dad.

It was Julian, the billionaire boss in a bespoke suit who, like a cold-blooded tyrant, had just thrown seven versions of my proposal straight into the trash.

And for the past seven consecutive days, I had completely mistaken him for my father. I had been spamming his number, whining and aggressively begging for pocket money. Exactly ten minutes ago, I had even fired off an unhinged text.

[ Why the hell didn't you take me on vacation with you?! ]

Thirty minutes later, I was strapped into the plush leather seat of his private jet. Julian leaned into my personal space, his broad shoulders blocking out the cabin light. The crisp, icy scent of his cologne instantly swallowed the oxygen between us.

"You love me that much?" he murmured, his gaze dark and heavy as it dropped to my lips. "Can't even survive a single day without me?"

Chapter 1

After seven consecutive days of soul-crushing overtime, the entire team was on the verge of a mental breakdown. During our lunch break, everyone huddled around the breakroom island, bitching about our boss being a literal slave driver. I, however, took a completely different approach.

"I'm not like you guys," I sighed, staring dreamily into my iced coffee. "For you, this job is torture. For me, it's an absolute privilege."

I paused for dramatic effect. "Working here is the only way I get to spend every waking hour with the man of my dreams. Your hearts might be on the left side of your chest, but mine? Mine belongs entirely to our boss."

I ignored the fact that my coworkers were staring at me like I had suddenly sprouted a second head, letting my cheesy lines flow like free tap water. "Julian's face is my daily dose of serotonin. His waistline is my premium fuel. Haven't you guys noticed? Whenever he's around, even the recycled office air smells like sugar."

Obviously, I wasn't actually in love with the billionaire tyrant. I was only saying this because I saw Julian's shadow looming right outside the glass door. Seven straight days of overtime. Seven different versions of my proposal, all ruthlessly shot down by him.

Love him? I wanted to strangle him with his own silk tie.

But just a moment ago, when I caught a glimpse of his annoyingly perfect face in my peripheral vision, a viral TikTok strategy flashed through my mind. Some girl had confessed her undying love to her boss, gotten brutally rejected, and then comfortably coasted through the next six months doing absolutely nothing because things were "too awkward." I decided to test this theory myself.

If it worked, I got a free pass to slack off.

If it failed, at least I successfully grossed him out.

Soon enough, a highly suspicious flush crept up the back of Julian's neck. Ha. Hahaha. Mwahaha. My inner monologue was practically howling.

Freaked out by the crazy girl, aren't you? Come on, banish me!

It was as if Julian heard my silent prayers. He pushed the glass door open.

"The eighth draft" he started, his voice clipped.

I deliberately straightened my spine, letting my gaze sweep shamelessly over his tight jawline. A suggestive smirk tugged at the corner of my lips as I took a half-step forward, boldly invading his personal space.

He actually took a step back, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"The eighth draft will be presented by Peyton." He pointed a stiff finger in my direction, clearly so rattled he completely blanked on my name. "You. You've worked hard these past two days. Go home and rest."

I rapidly cycled through every single traumatic memory in my entire life just to stop myself from bursting into triumphant laughter right then and there. I immediately squeezed out two dramatic tears and clutched my chest, acting as if I had just taken a brutal punch to the gut. "Julian, I'm not tired at all! I don't need to go home, I can"

"No, no, no. You need to go home." The boss practically fled the scene.

My coworkers' jaws hit the floor. Before they could even start processing whether this was all some calculated strategy, I spun around and wailed at Peyton.

"Why?! Why would he rather have you than me?!" I shrieked, totally committing to the bit. "What do you have that I don't?! I only rewrote it seven times, I can do an eighth! You stole my chance to fix my proposal!"

I stomped my feet, thrashed around a bit for good measure, and before anyone could snap out of their shock, I grabbed my tote bag and bolted.

The second I stepped out of the office building, reality hit me like a truck. The afternoon sun was blinding. It was so freaking hot. After living inside an air-conditioned corporate prison for a week, I had genuinely forgotten what the outside world felt like.

I decided to call an Uber. But surge pricing was insane.

So, once I finally dragged my exhausted body onto my bed, I opened iMessage and naturally demanded a 0-000 Zelle transfer from my dad to cover the ride. A few seconds later, three slow bubbles appeared. Then:

[ ??? ]

Tch. Cheap old man. Sitting on a fat 401(k) and a solid pension, and he couldn't even toss his own daughter a hundred bucks. I effortlessly typed out a threat:

[ Heartbroken. Wanna die. Are you sending it or not? If you don't, I'm jumping. ]

My phone buzzed almost instantly. The money hit my account.

[ Ugh, I always have to throw a fit before you pay up. ]

[ Can't you just spoil me unconditionally for once? ]

[ It's all going into my inheritance anyway, isn't it? ]

[ Do better next time! ]

After successfully lecturing the old man, I tossed my phone aside and passed out with a massive grin on my face.

The next morning, I strutted into the office practically vibrating with energy. The rest of the team was running around like headless chickens, but Julian didn't assign me a single task. He didn't even dare to look in my general direction. I had successfully become the invisible, marginalized outcast of the department.

Hahahahahahaha. I kicked my feet under my desk, absolutely thriving.

Chapter 2

At noon, I shot my dad a text demanding 0-05 for a matcha latte. At night, while the rest of the office was drowning in a sea of spreadsheets, I clocked out on the dot and hit him up for another $30 for a movie ticket. This went on for a solid week. My dad was my personal ATM, answering every request with a seamless Zelle notification.

Julian, meanwhile, avoided me like the plague.

I was slacking off on my boss's dime and milking my dad for cash. I had reached the absolute peak of my existence.

Until day seven.

Out of nowhere, my dad transferred me 0-05,000. He dropped a message saying he was flying out to Italy for a few days. He wouldn't have cell service and couldn't act as my on-demand wallet, so I was supposed to pull whatever I needed from this fifteen grand.

[ ??? ]

Ahhhhh. This old man was going to Italy and not taking me?! My fingers flew across the glass screen in a furious text-bombing session.

[ You're going abroad and not taking me?! ]

[ Am I not your favorite baby anymore?! ]

[ You are such a disappointment! ]

I was aggressively tapping out another threat when a shadow fell over my desk. A voice rumbled right above my head. "Let's go."

I snapped my head up. Julian was staring down at me, his jaw tight, looking like he was physically choking on his own words.

I blinked at him, totally lost. "Go where?"

He ground his back teeth together. He looked like a man who had just made a terribly reckless decision. "Didn't you just say I was going abroad without you? Get up. I'm taking you."

I stared at his perfectly tailored suit, then slowly looked down at my phone screen. Wait. I didn't know when he did it, but Julian had changed his profile picture to a wide-open skythe exact same boomer-energy landscape my dad used. His display name was set to: The Boss. And as luck would have it, the sarcastic nickname I used for my dad's contact was also The Boss.

Oh, sweet Jesus.

For an entire week, I had mistaken my billionaire boss for my dad and shamelessly harassed him for pocket money. And the most unhinged part? He actually paid it without saying a single word. Was he a psycho?!

Thirty minutes later, I was strapped into a plush leather seat across from him on his private Gulfstream. We stared at each other in suffocating silence.

Julian cleared his throat, finally breaking the tension. "So." He adjusted his French cuffs, not quite meeting my eyes. "You really like me this much? You can't even go a single day without me?"

He leaned back, adopting a tone of magnanimous pity. "Look, I get it. I'm exceptional. It's only human nature to fall for someone of my caliber. But you really don't need to be this desperate. I actually prefer women who play a little harder to get."

"Not that your complete lack of boundaries is a bad thing," he added hastily. "The main reason I'm rejecting you is simply because I'm not looking for a relationship right now. I swore to my old manuntil my company hits its IPO, I'm not putting a ring on anyone's finger. It's not that you're lacking. It's just the wrong time for us."

Julian rambled on, delivering a full TED Talk on why we couldn't be together. Great. At least I didn't have to open my mouth and expose the mortifying truth.

After agonizing minutes of corporate-speak rejection, he delivered his closing statement. "Even though I am completely out of your league, there are still plenty of beautiful things in this world worth pursuing. I brought you on this trip to Italy so you could broaden your horizons. Feel the world a bit."

He leaned in slightly, and the crisp, icy scent of his cologne instantly swallowed me. A flash of undeniable panic broke through those usually calculating eyes.

Julian looked at me with deep, earnest conviction. "Please don't lose your passion for life just because you can't have me. You're young. You have potential. I can't be your boyfriend, but as your boss, stick with me and I promise I'll take you straight to the top. I'll show you a bigger, better world."

He stared at me as if he were personally guaranteeing my spot on the Forbes 30 Under 30 list. Honestly? The man knew how to pitch.

Before this, Julian had treated words like they cost him a thousand dollars a syllable. His entire vocabulary with me consisted of sharp, two-word executions: Wrong. Redo. Trash. Overtime. Fix it. Again. Back then, he was nothing but a ruthless, tailored machine designed to sign my paychecks.

Now, I glanced at the display on my phonehe had been running his mouth for a solid twenty minutes. And amidst his long-winded, narcissistic rejection, I bizarrely detected a microscopic trace of sincerity?

Wow. He really was terrified that I was going to off myself over my unrequited love for him.

He was literally gaslighting his lowest-ranking employee into staying alive with empty corporate promises.

Chapter 3

I was actually a little touched. I grabbed Julian's wrist, putting on my best earnest face. "Julian, don't worry. I get it now. From this moment on, I will fiercely value myself. I'll channel all this burning love I have for you directly into my productivity."

"I will be the ultimate stepping stone on your path to success. Though, if you could bump up my salary, that would really help the healing process"

I stared back at him with the same wide-eyed sincerity. Just as capitalist bosses were experts at dangling fake carrots, we corporate drones were masters at pretending to eat them.

The earnestness on Julian's face fractured into hesitation. "You really understand? Look, you don't need to force it so quickly. You're still young. It's completely normal if you can't just flip a switch and let go of your feelings for me. I get it."

I opened my mouth to assure him that yes, I really, truly did get it, but my stomach betrayed me with a loud, hollow growl.

Julian exhaled a sharp breath. "After all that talking, you must be starving. Eat." He waved a hand over his shoulder, his face radiating the distinct relief of a man who just successfully dodged a conversation about giving his employee a raise. Classic cheapskate capitalist.

Seconds later, the private flight attendant arranged an immaculate Bulgari-branded afternoon tea set on the mahogany table between us. The attendant offered a flawless, professional smile. "Mr. Lin specifically requested I prepare this right before takeoff. Since he never touches sweets, I rushed to put together a selection that is universally popular."

"I wasn't sure what would suit your palate. If it's not to your liking, please let me know, and I will ensure a better selection next time."

I stared at the exact tiered dessert stand that had been breaking Instagram for months. Forcing down the absolute feral joy threatening to burst out of me, I offered the attendant a polite, restrained smile. "You're too kind. This is perfect."

Julian waved his hand dismissively. "Don't thank him. It's his job. Just eat it. Let's see if it's any good."

I swore I saw the attendant's eye twitch, but Julian was already leaning forward, staring at me with intense expectation. For some bizarre reason, the way he was looking at me perfectly mirrored how my dad looked at Bruno, our golden retriever.

Whenever my dad cooked up a new batch of premium dog food, he'd stare at Bruno with that exact same eager intensity. The second Bruno wagged his tail, my dad would pat his head with immense satisfaction and coo, Good boy.

Shaking off the thought, I elegantly picked up the porcelain teacup. I took a delicate sip. I picked up a perfectly glazed petit four and took a dainty bite.

And then, pure, unadulterated, obscenely expensive sugar exploded across my taste buds.

I couldn't help it. My head snapped up, and I shot Julian the most blissed-out, satisfied grin of my entire life. I practically had the urge to bark for him.

Julian's Adam's apple bobbed. His large, broad hand reached across the table and covered the top of my head. His thumb brushed against my scalp, radiating a rough, startling heat as he slowly tangled his fingers in my hair, messing it up just a fraction.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. "It's all yours."

Dropping his hand, a deeply satisfied smirk played on his lips as he stood up and strode over to his laptop to review some reports.

Excellent. The second his back was turned, I abandoned all pretense of elegance and started inhaling the pastries like a vacuum. But my stomach simply didn't have the real estate. Staring at the mountain of sugar still left on the tiers, I admitted defeat.

I couldn't finish it. Not a chance.

Barely an hour after the afternoon tea massacre, it was time for dinner. Julian closed his laptop, a dangerous little smile on his face, and took the seat across from me again. Without even looking back, he snapped his fingers.

The attendant immediately materialized, rolling out a cart loaded with an absolutely obscene spread. Caviar. Black truffles. Palams red prawns

But I was tapped out. The macarons were still sitting heavy in my stomach, and I was actively fighting back a sugar burp. Julian completely ignored my subtle look of distress, fixing me with that same intense, expectant stare. Under the weight of his burning gaze, the words I'm full died in my throat.

I loathed my ingrained corporate-drone instinct to please.

And so, locked in the crosshairs of his attention, I brutally forced myself to consume the entire Michelin-star feast. Julian watched my every bite, his smile growing wider and more terrifyingly satisfied by the second.

"Great appetite," he mused, leaning back in his leather seat. "Exactly what I expect from one of my people."

I was becoming more convinced by the minute. To Julian, I was exactly what Bruno was to my dad. The sick thrill he got from watching his lowest-tier employee devour luxury ingredients was the exact same high my dad got from watching a golden retriever gnaw on a premium bone.

There's a line between employee perks and total humiliation, and I was currently choking on it!

Chapter 4

I slammed my hands onto the table and pushed myself up. Leaving Julian blinking in sheer surprise, I rubbed my temples, muttered an excuse about a killer headache, and bailed from the dining area.

He didnt try to stop me this time. He merely shot the attendant a look and ordered him to bump up the cabin temperature so I wouldn't catch a chill.

I kept a plastic smile plastered on my face, but internally, I was flipping him the bird. Filthy capitalist. Im going to bury myself under the covers and sleeplets see him try to treat me like his personal entertainment then. I pulled the blanket up to my chin.

Okay, I had to admit, the cashmere on this private jet smelled incredible and was ridiculously soft.

Who would have thought that falling into a sugar coma would trigger a full-blown night terror?

My lungs felt like the air had been instantly vacuumed out. My limbs were trapped, bound tight like thick vines were wrapping around them, and every desperate, ragged gasp tore through my chest. Just as I was completely drenched in cold sweat, drowning in the nightmare and bordering on asphyxiation, a sudden burst of light pierced through.

A solid, powerful arm suddenly yanked me against a scorching hot chest. A deep, gravelly voice rumbled right against my ear. "Hold on to me. You're okay."

I blinked my heavy eyes open, trying to process reality. The cashmere blanket was tossed onto the floor, and I was completely caged in Julian's arms. He was staring down at me, his gaze dark and unblinking, his large hand rubbing slow, heavy circles into my spine.

I snapped fully awake, my body rigid.

Thankfully, the moment he realized I was conscious, he released his grip. He pressed a silk pocket square into my hand. "You had a night terror. Your hair is soaked."

I took the square in dead silence. Holy crap, even this smells expensive.

Just as I was debating whether I needed to thank him, he turned to dim the cabin lights, snatched the silk square back from my fingers, and started wiping the sweat from my forehead himself. "It's the middle of the night. Once you cool down, go back to sleep. I'm not leaving."

In the dim lighting, I could hear a muffled snort from somewhere down the aisle.

Oh my god. This guy seriously thought he was the brooding alpha male lead in a movie. The emotional burden was suffocating! Was it too late to ask to be dropped out of the plane with a parachute?

I flashed him a stiff, panicked smile, squeezed my eyes shut, and dropped back onto the mattress. If I couldn't see it, it wasn't awkward.

But why was it that even with my eyes closed, relying purely on my hearing at thirty thousand feet in the air, the awkwardness was absolutely deafening? I mentally counted to three hundred, and the mattress hadn't shifted. His weight was still planted right on the edge of my bed. Was it possible he had passed out sitting up?

I cracked one eye open. Julian was staring right at me.

The second he realized I was peeking, he leaned in a fraction of an inch closer. "Relax. I told you I'm staying, and I mean it."

I gave him the most sycophantic, pathetic smile I could muster. I was seriously starting to regret that fake confession. I snapped my eyes shut again. Footsteps padded softly down the aisle toward us.

The attendant lowered his voice to a whisper. "Mr. Lin, please go get some rest. I can keep an eye on Ms. Quinn."

The attendant's offer sounded professional, but why did I detect a heavy dose of nosy gossip in his tone?

Julian went dead silent for a few seconds before replying in a hushed murmur. "This girl confessed her feelings to me recently, and I had to let her down gently. She's in a very fragile emotional state right now."

"Since I can't give her the love she wants, I'm trying to compensate her in other ways so she doesn't spiral. She's obviously having night terrors because she's heartbroken over my rejection. So I need to stay right here and watch over her. Step down. Until she wakes up, keep the noise to an absolute minimum."

The attendant breathed a soft, "Understood, sir," and quietly backed away.

I didn't know if I was hallucinating, but I swore I heard another suppressed snort from the front of the cabin.

Julian's self-righteous speech made me feel like I was lying on a bed of nails. I couldn't believe he actually bought into his own delusion that I was dying of unrequited love for him. Whatever. By the time I woke up again, we'd be touching down in Italy.

Italian hotties, here I come!

I actually slept like a rock after that. When I finally opened my eyes again, the jet was already making its descent.

As we were gathering our things to deplane, Julian suddenly turned to me. "I'm here strictly for business. I'll have the driver take you straight to the hotel so you can rest. I'll come find you once I wrap up my meetings."

I had no idea why he was giving me his itinerary. The only thing my brain registered was: He has to go to work, and I don't.

Perfect. Absolutely flawless.

Chapter 5

The cabin door swung open to an unexpected welcoming committee. The second Julian's Italian leather shoes hit the tarmac, he was surrounded. Judging by the way they addressed him, they were executives from his father's conglomerate. I had been at our company for two years, and I had absolutely zero clue we even had an Italian branch.

Scanning the insanely gorgeous Italian airport staff, my mood skyrocketed. I was just waiting for Julian to ditch me so I could finally taste sweet, European freedom.

But after shaking a dozen hands, he spun back around, fixing me with a dead-serious stare. "I will wrap things up here as fast as humanly possible. Wait for me at the hotel. Do not wander off."

A dozen pairs of eyes snapped to me. The unspoken gossip practically set the tarmac on fire. I pasted on my best polished corporate smile, playing it cool. "Take your time. I am in no rush."

Under the flight attendant's meticulous arrangements, I was quickly checked into a world-renowned luxury hotel. Let me just say: this place was practically crawling with drop-dead gorgeous men.

I hesitated for exactly one second before dropping an obscene amount of money on a designer bikini and oversized sunglasses at the boutique. After a record-speed glow-up, I strutted out to the pool deck.

Sprawled out on a lounger, I soaked in the visual feast of prime European muscle. I knew damn well that I, Quinn, deserved this. My twenty-six-year-old body was not meant to rot in a fluorescent-lit cubicle every single day. I was meant to flirt with the hottest men on the planet, make them fall for me, and then ruthlessly break their hearts!

Mwahaha. A wicked smirk crept onto my face.

Right on cue, a walking, talking thirst trap sauntered in my direction. Even better? This tanned, sculpted masterpiece had a face that looked like a carbon copy of Michele Morrone.

"Ciao!" he called out, waving.

"Ciao!" I waved back, instantly dialing up my charm.

He closed the distance between us and unleashed a long string of Italian in a voice so deep and criminally sexy it could probably get someone pregnant just by listening. I assumed he was telling me I was gorgeous. I flashed a blinding smile. "Thank you. You are not so bad yourself."

He chuckled. Sweet mother of god, he was going to be the death of me.

Using a chaotic mix of broken English and heavy hand gestures, I easily figured out he was inviting me to the poolside bar for a drink. The math was not hard. One drink turns into two, two turns into three, and then jackpot. My brain was already fast-forwarding to the part where I ruthlessly dumped this absolute god and watched him weep over losing me.

Right at that moment, the Italian guy's large hand slid smoothly around my bare lower back. A jolt of pure electricity shot straight down my spine.

Then a brutal, invisible force ripped me backward.

Julian materialized out of thin air. His broad, muscular back formed an impenetrable wall, caging me in behind him. The heavy scent of his cologne severed the Italian man's line of sight, radiating pure, territorial hostility.

Julian fired off a rapid, lethal string of Italian. The gorgeous guy took one look at his face, visibly swallowed, and bolted.

Are you kidding me?! My exotic hookup! My meticulously planned heartbreaker fantasy! Gone.

Once the Italian guy was completely out of sight, Julian finally turned to face me. The muscles in his jaw were ticking dangerously.

"Did I not tell you not to wander off?" His voice dropped to a lethal decibel. "Did I not tell you to wait for me in the hotel?"

My blood spiked. I stepped right up to him, refusing to back down. "What the hell did you just say to him?"

"I told a piece of trash like him to get as far away from you as physically possible." Julian's words were coated in ice.

I was too furious to even speak. I crossed my arms and glared at the pool deck. A heavy, highly combustible tension thickened the air between us, suffocatingly tight.

Julian broke the silence first. He let out a harsh breath, his tone shifting into something a fraction less murderous. "Look, just because I rejected you does not mean you need to completely let yourself go and throw yourself at the first stray dog that looks your way."

He adjusted his cuffs, his eyes dark. "It makes my employees look cheap, which in turn humiliates me. Got it? The men out here are garbage. Do not be so naive."

Chapter 6

I sneered internally. If it weren't for you, I'd already be on my villain era right now.

Honestly, I really wanted to remind Julian of his own words. Didn't he literally just tell me he was going to show me a bigger, better world? Last time I checked, a gorgeous Italian man was a very appealing part of that bigger, better world. But Julian looked entirely too worked up right now. To preserve whatever fragile male ego he was protecting, I opted for complete silence.

Julian clearly misinterpreted my silence. He let out a long, heavy sigh and reached out, his hand awkwardly ruffling the top of my hair. "I know you're heartbroken. I know you're not in a good place right now. You probably resent me," he continued, his tone softening. "You're probably thinking, 'If he won't give me the love I want, why is he restricting my freedom?'"

"But you don't understand how things work out here. The security here isn't like it is back home. Italy, especially? The mafia is everywhere. A pretty young girl like you showing up here is basically tossing a little lamb straight into a wolf pack."

Julian leaned in, his expression dead serious. "One wrong move and you'll get kidnapped by the mob, thrown straight onto a dark web auction block. A pretty girl like you? They won't even leave your bones."

I gave him a blank stare, my internal monologue screaming. Does this billionaire actually think I have an IQ of 40? But on the surface, I remained perfectly obedient. I acted like I was two seconds away from throwing myself at his legs and crying about how terrified I was.

Julian looked incredibly satisfied with my performance. He gave my shoulder a reassuring pat. "Don't blame me for being strict. I'm doing this for your own good. Since I brought you out of the country, I am personally responsible for your safety. Otherwise, how am I supposed to explain anything to your parents when we get back?"

Listen, I thought, handing me over to a gorgeous Italian man would be the absolute best explanation you could give my parents. Nobody in our family lineage has ever bagged a European before. Of course, I kept those thoughts strictly locked away.

Instead, I seized the opportunity. I threw my arms around his waist and buried my face in his chest, unleashing a fake, dramatic sob. "Julian, you're just too good to me! You're such an amazing man how am I supposed to just stop loving you?! Sob"

"I'm just so heartbroken so devastated" I choked out, forcing a theatrical sob.

Let's see it, I thought. With me crying this hard, exactly how much luxury compensation are you going to buy me to make up for my 'shattered heart'?

Julian took the bait instantly. His body went rigid, and he gave my back a stiff, awkward pat. "Don't cry. Don't cry. Tomorrow tomorrow, I'll take you home."

Home?! Excuse me?!

I flew thousands of miles across the globe to Italy, barely even got a look at the local talent, and he was already shipping me back?! I was violently cursing him out in my head.

But it didn't take long for me to realize exactly how wrong I was. I had vastly underestimated exactly how filthy rich my boss was. When he said "home," he meant his Italian home.

Still mentally cursing him, I followed him to the "home" he had mentioned. It was a sprawling, ultra-modern villa on the island of Sardinia. Clear blue skies. Pristine white sand. Standing in front of the villa's massive floor-to-ceiling windows, the beach stretching out below looked like a sheet of flawless, transparent sapphire.

I was convinced I had accidentally died and walked into a fairy tale.

Julian came up beside me, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Do you like it? Once we finish eating, I'll take you diving. The marine life here is incredible. Hopefully, it'll help heal your unhappiness."

I stared at him, and actual, unforced tears of sheer joy welled up in my eyes. "Julian. You are literally the best person alive. From this day forward, you are the only man I will ever respect. I swear I will never call you a capitalist slave-driver again."

Naturally, I kept that last sentence to myself.

Julian actually looked flustered by my intense praise. He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm not that great. Just as long as you're happy."

I was so happy. I hadn't been this happy a single day in my entire miserable, corporate life. After a quick, Michelin-quality lunch, Julian ushered me out to the water. We took a sleek speedboat straight out into the middle of the ocean.

With the sea breeze washing over me and the sun warming my skin, I practically melted into the plush boat seats like a lazy cat. And then, Julian casually tossed a set of premium diving gear straight at me.

I had seen TikToks about diving. It looked fun. But I had never actually done it. And more importantly, I absolutely despised trying new things. Pure instinct kicked in, and I immediately started waving my hands in aggressive refusal.

Chapter 7

Julian stared at me. "Are you sure you do not want to try? The marine life here is incredible. I want to show you."

His gaze was so intensely focused, stripping away his usual corporate ice, that it actually managed to melt the knot of anxiety in my chest. I gave a slow, mechanical nod. "Maybe just a quick try?"

He strapped the heavy gear onto me. The whole time, my calves were trembling so hard they felt like jelly. My internal alarm bells were screaming. Abort mission. What if I drown? This is not worth the hazard pay.

Standing on the edge of the swim platform, weighed down by the tank, I was half a second away from backing out. But when I looked up, Julian was already extending a large, wet hand toward me. "Hold onto me. You will not be scared."

I could not describe the sudden jolt in my chest. But the second my fingers wrapped around his solid grip, the paralyzing fear actually started to recede. We hit the water. The impact swallowed us whole.

Instantly, the world went dead silent, leaving only the mechanical, pressurized hiss of my regulator. Heavy, suffocating water crushed in from every single direction. It was absolutely terrifying. Pure survival instinct hijacked my brain.

I thrashed. I needed the surface. I needed air.

But Julian's grip on my wrist was like iron. He ignored my frantic pulling, dragging me deeper into the blue abyss. Panic clawed at my throat. Let me go. Let me go. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the end.

This was it. This was how I died. The ruthless capitalist bastard had flown me all the way to Italy just to assassinate me because my fake love confession disgusted him that much.

Right as my morbid conspiracy theories peaked, something tapped firmly against my cheek. I snapped my eyes open.

Julian's masked face was inches from mine. He pointed into the distance.

Schools of neon fish darted past, the rush of water brushing against my bare skin. Vibrant reefs swayed in the gentle current. It was like crashing into an alien world. The sheer, vibrant beauty of it instantly short-circuited my panic.

While I was hypnotized by the reef, Julian's gaze was locked entirely on me. Even behind the thick glass of the diving mask, I could see the hard lines of his eyes softening. He was watching me with a dangerous, heavy intensity. A breathless smile pulled at my lips. A school of silver fish swirled between us, but our eye contact did not break.

I had worked for this man for two years, but right now? He looked devastatingly gorgeous. It had to be the deep-sea lighting washing away his ruthless corporate stench.

Drawn by some invisible, magnetic pull, the space between us evaporated. We drifted closer. Closer.

Clink.

The hard plastic of our diving masks collided.

The sharp noise snapped us out of the trance. We jerked back simultaneously, kicking away from each other. Holy crap. Was I actually catching real feelings for my tyrant boss? My chest tightened with absolute mortification.

But Julian looked even more wrecked than I did. He immediately turned his back to me, refusing to make eye contact.

The mood was instantly killed. Julian quickly signaled to ascend, and we broke the surface gasping for air. The second we pulled our mouthpieces out, the silence was excruciating.

Julian pushed his wet hair back, coughing awkwardly. "Wow. The sky is really blue today."

I gripped the edge of the boat. "Yeah. So many fish down there."

We made eye contact for half a second before he violently looked away. "You are probably exhausted. Let's head back."

I let out a hollow, entirely fake laugh. "Haha. Yeah. Totally exhausted. Let's go."

Julian was a no-show for dinner that night. The attendant claimed he had caught a chill from the ocean breeze.

The next day, he ghosted me again. He ordered the staff to escort me to a private beach club, but he stayed completely barricaded in his master suite. Lounging in a cabana was great, but his aggressive avoidance actually stung a little. We did not even actually kiss.

Even if we had locked lips, did he really need to panic and lock himself away like a Victorian maiden?

Chapter 8

For the sake of Julian's mental health, and more importantly, my own career trajectory, I fully intended to keep coasting on his dime once we got back. I needed to find the right moment to explain that I harbored zero inappropriate feelings for him.

That moment underwater was fueled by the mesmerizing marine life temporarily short-circuiting my brain. But before I could find the perfect opening, the flight attendant informed me on day three that we were heading back to New York.

On the flight back, Julian abandoned his previous lecture mode and morphed into a complete mute. He kept shooting me covert glances. The second I looked his way, his eyes would violently snap to the window.

As the jet began its descent, I finally gathered the courage to clear the air. "Julian, please do not feel pressured. Thank you for taking me abroad to clear my head, but I really, truly do not have feelings for you anymore." Please do not fire me.

Maybe because I stole his lines, Julian's expression darkened. "Do not misunderstand," he clipped out. "That day underwater, I was not trying to kiss you. I was trying to kiss the fish."

He delivered that completely straight-faced, stood up, and strode toward the cabin door. Incredible. A flawless corporate pivot.

I immediately trotted after him. "That is fantastic. Glad we cleared that up. The fish were gorgeous, who wouldn't want to kiss them?" I was trying to be agreeable, but somehow, that made it worse. His jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked. The unpredictable wrath of a capitalist.

I carefully trailed him into his waiting Maybach, riding back to the office in terrifying silence. When the car pulled up to the headquarters, I went into full sycophant mode, opening the car door, holding the elevator, pressing the buttons.

The second the elevator doors finally slid shut behind me, I let out a massive, shaky exhale. He let me walk right back into the building. He did not fire me. My paycheck was secure.

I practically hummed a tune as I strutted back to my desk, soaking in the intense, burning stares from every single coworker on the floor. The news that I had flown out on the CEO's private jet had clearly infected the entire office. Right now, they definitely pegged me as a manipulative office siren.

Even though absolutely nothing happened, this scandal was going to skyrocket my untouchable status. Thinking about my impending months of paid leisure, I decided there was zero need to clear up the rumors. Riding the coattails of his terrifying reputation felt phenomenal.

But my victory lap was cut short. My seat had not even touched the chair before a shrill voice ripped through the bullpen.

"So you are the cheap trash trying to seduce Julian!" A manicured hand swung through the air, aiming straight for my cheek.

Please. I was not some helpless damsel in a cheesy romance novel. I had fast reflexes and zero patience.

I backhanded a precise, crushing grip onto her wrist. I squeezed hard enough to instantly contort her perfectly contoured face. I let out a cold scoff, leaning in to invade her space. "Your manicure looks expensive. Swing at me again, and I will not mind snapping every single one of them off."

Just as I was about to follow through and slam her face-first into the carpet, a massive, broad hand carrying a familiar icy cologne clamped directly onto my wrist from behind, violently yanking me into a rigid, highly possessive embrace. Then, I watched in pure shock as the oncoming slap connected with a sharp smack right across the newcomer's face