Auctioning the Billionaire

Forced overtime on Thanksgiving eve snapped my last thread of sanity.

I went feral online. I filmed a video, panning across my boss's office and taking a ruthless inventory of every single item inside. Everything from the custom leather sofa right down to his used toothbrush.

I stared dead into the lens and declared that the second I clocked out, I was tossing the whole lot on eBay and blowing the cash in Vegas on eighteen male strippers.

The video blew up.

And the pinned comment sitting at the very top? It was from my boss, Julian.

[ Are you psycho? Why not just list me on there too? What, waiting for a better offer? ]

Chapter 1

As the CEO's executive assistant, part of my job is pure survival. Right now, I stood outside the conference room doors, balancing a freshly brewed cup of coffee.

The heavy soundproofing couldn't even muffle the man's relentless mockery. His words were rapid, clipping through the air like bullets.

"What exactly am I paying you all for? Did you write this proposal with your toes?"

"Throw this proposal into a Los Angeles slum, and even a homeless guy would think it's an eyesore! It's absolute garbage!"

"And this project brief. I'm twenty pages in and I still have no clue what your point is. Can you articulate a single coherent thought? With your communication skills, I could attend a funeral and not even know who died!"

"Are your brains stuffed with moldy donuts? You produce a pile of dog shit, and you're confident enough to serve it to me as the main course without even wiping it up!"

"Did you all skip the brain-distribution phase of human evolution? Use your heads. Do I pay your salaries just to spike my blood pressure, or to actually get things done?"

Inside, a room full of highly paid executives tucked their heads down like turtles, not daring to breathe.

Hearing enough, I pivoted on my heel and walked away.

The boss was on a rampage, and I didn't have a death wish. Julian could survive missing his caffeine fix. I, however, could not survive an unnecessary firing squad.

I took a tactical bathroom break. By the time I looped back, the conference room was empty. The immediate danger had passed.

I brewed a fresh cup and headed straight for the CEO's office.

The door was slightly ajar. Someone beat me to it. It was Bianca, the trophy assistant shoved into the finance department thanks to her sugar daddy's money.

She wore a skin-tight pencil skirt and four-inch Louboutins, her makeup flawless. She pitched her voice up an octave, dripping with fake sweetness. "Mr. Julian, your coffee."

She leaned over the desk, deliberately plunging her neckline as she prepared to set the cup down.

The man sitting behind the desk possessed a tall, imposing frame. His features were sharply handsome, his dark eyes deep and unreadable. He radiated an effortless, untouchable wealth.

But right now, those eyes were glacial.

He pointed a pen at the door. "Who are you? Who let you in?"

"Is this your job? Get out."

Her smile froze. "Mr. Julian, I I'm the new secretarial assistant, Bianca. Blair was busy, so she asked me to bring this to you."

Wait, what? Considering I am Blair, I definitely didn't remember giving that order.

Julian didn't even look up from the document he was signing. "Get out. I won't repeat myself."

Bianca took a deep breath. Her ankles gave out like she forgot how to walk. She pitched forward, hot coffee in hand, aiming straight for him.

Julian didn't even flinch. His voice dropped to a lethal calm. "Think very carefully before you spill that."

"This custom suit cost thirty grand. Ask yourself if you can afford it."

She wobbled wildly, but miraculously found her balance at the very last second.

Julian finally looked at her. His gaze swept up and down her ridiculous outfit. He let out a cold scoff.

"Dressed like that, what exactly is your job description? Are you trying to get me arrested for soliciting?"

"I have no idea why HR let you in the building when you can't even function as decent window dressing. Trying to take Blair's place?" He leaned back in his leather chair. "You're nowhere near as pretty as her, and you don't possess a fraction of her competence."

Chapter 2

I couldn't help but let the corner of my mouth twitch upward. After tormenting me for so long, my bastard boss finally recognized my worth.

But I celebrated too soon.

He wasn't finished. "Of course, I'm not complimenting her, and I'm not insulting you. I'm simply stating a fact. Just like it's a fact that Blair dresses more frumpy than my deceased grandmother."

Bianca's smile disintegrated.

"Or maybe you're aiming for the position of the CEO's wife?" His tone dripped with raw, unfiltered mockery. "Don't chase things that don't belong to you."

"Instead of harboring some delusional Cinderella fantasy, you should work on yourself. For starters, I suggest you get checked for Parkinson's or epilepsy before you carry hot liquids again."

I should have seen that coming. Julian's toxic mouth was practically a legend around here.

She grabbed her coffee and practically sprinted out, muffled sobs escaping her throat. As she blew past the door, she shot me a venomous glare.

What did I do?

The man's cool voice drifted through the gap. "Blair, how much longer do you plan on standing out there? Are you moonlighting as security?"

I suppressed a heavy sigh and pushed the door open. Talk about catching stray bullets.

He slowly pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. His long, elegant fingers tapped a rhythmic beat against the mahogany desk.

I recognized the posture.

Great. My turn on the chopping block.

"Blair, I don't pay you a seven-figure salary to treat my office like a movie theater. Learn from a streetlamp and understand your purpose." He leaned forward slightly.

"Show a little risk management. My net worth is astronomical. If someone manages to poison me on your watch, you'll be the one eating prison food."

I looked at his face and thought about my direct deposits.

I held my tongue.

"Get some situational awareness. If your myopia is acting up, the company can expense your LASIK. I don't want any random gold diggers getting this close to me again."

My glasses were non-prescription, and he knew it. He was just taking the scenic route to call me blind.

"And another thing. Blair, do you own a mirror? You dress so incredibly bland it's damaging the corporate image. Who's compensating me when you scare away the clients?"

I gave him a dry, tight-lipped smile.

He didn't miss a beat. "That smile is hideous. You're better off not doing it."

Julian.

Go straight to hell.

His mouth was getting more toxic by the day. If he wasn't paying me a small fortune, I would have walked years ago. Was this even a salary? It was hazard pay for emotional damage.

I stepped out of the office.

Down the hall, Bianca was stuffing her belongings into a cardboard box. She was fired. And Julian had torn the entire finance department a new one in the process.

She stomped over, her heels clicking aggressively against the floor tiles. She glared at me, her eyes narrowed into slits.

"He rejected me, but he definitely doesn't want you either. Don't think I can't see right through you. Who knows whose bed you crawled into to get this job. You aren't even fit to shine his shoes."

I let out a slow smile, dropping every ounce of the submission I kept for the boss. "I hate to break it to you, but I hold a dual master's degree from an Ivy League with a full-ride scholarship. I got in here on pure merit. Then again, how could I ever compete with Miss Bianca's community college diploma, fully sponsored by her sugar daddy?"

She was a constant headache on a good day. Today, she caught me in the crossfire, got me yelled at, and now she wanted to drag my name through the mud?

Did I look like a doormat? I only took abuse from the guy signing my paychecks.

"You"

Using my height advantage, I leaned in close, backing her up a step. "Trying to sleep your way to the top tax bracket? I can't really judge, seeing as I have zero experience in the escort industry."

"Different worlds, I guess. I wish you luck out there. Enjoy your termination, Miss Bianca."

She couldn't out-talk me, and she definitely couldn't out-fight me.

What a shame.

Chapter 3

She could only stand there, her jaw clamped tight in silence. The heavy knot in my chest finally loosened. They say taking a step back gives you peace, but honestly, holding back your rage just gives you tumors. The internet didn't lie.

That afternoon, I was loosening the soil and watering the boss's money tree. Gripping the small trowel, I dug with increasing enthusiasm. The office was empty, and my old habit kicked in. I couldn't help but hum a little tune.

"Grinding, grinding, grinding away in capitalist hell. Making minimum wage while my credit card bills swell. Working like a dog for a tyrant boss I'd love to sell"

A scoff came from behind me.

Julian leaned lazily against the doorframe. No telling how long he'd been standing there. The corner of his mouth ticked up in a half-smile. "Singing like that, Blair?"

"Do you have a death wish? Any aspirations of becoming a pop star? Because if you do, I'm calling the cops."

As a chronically tone-deaf person, getting caught mid-performance was mortifying. Heat rushed instantly to my cheeks.

Julian, you absolute bastard.

It was the day before Thanksgiving.

Julian had just returned from a business trip. Logan, his driver, happened to be on leave, so the boss ordered me to pick him up outside his hotel.

The curb was packed, and I scanned the crowd for ages without spotting him. So, I dialed his number. "Boss, where are you?"

His low, icy voice came through the speaker. "Right across from you."

I furrowed my brows and inched the car forward. "I don't see you. How about you wave a hand?"

His voice sounded like it was squeezed through gritted teeth. "Blair, my arm is about to fall off. I've accidentally hailed a dozen cabs."

My stomach dropped. "No, seriously, I didn't see you."

He let out a cold laugh. "You drove right past me."

When he finally got in, I offered an apologetic smile, trying to mask my awkwardness. Julian dropped into the passenger seat and crossed his long legs. He shot me a loaded sideways glance.

"Two useless glass beads in your skull. All blinking, zero seeing."

I wanted to poison his vocal cords. Not even joking.

He spoke up again. "Go home and pack tonight. You're coming with me on a business trip tomorrow."

What? My grip on the steering wheel slipped. I figured he'd just lost track of the days. "Boss, tomorrow is Thanksgiving."

He picked up the thread without missing a beat. "I know."

Was he out of his mind? Callum had asked me out to dinner tomorrow. I was a woman of simple tastes: I loved cash, and I loved eye candy.

He'd been sweet-talking me all week. I couldn't just ghost him!

I made a final, desperate struggle. "Boss, can I opt out?"

He looked at me, spitting out his words with a gentle, ruthless finality. "No. Unless you want to be unemployed."

Retaliation. This was absolute retaliation. What a petty jerk.

I slammed my foot on the gas, driving like a maniac. All the way back, I ignored him every time he looked like he wanted to say something.

We pulled up to the office building.

He didn't get out right away. His brows were knit tight, his face cycling between shades of green and pale white.

Crap. I forgot my boss got motion sickness.

His tone was rigid. "Blair, in a fifteen-minute drive, you flipped people off ten times, honked your horn eight times, and dropped the F-bomb six times. Do you have rabies?"

"If you won't think of yourself, at least think of others. Sitting in your passenger seat is a severe health hazard. I highly recommend you surrender your driver's license."

I highly recommend you zip your lips.

Back in the office, I started sorting through the files for tomorrow's trip. Callum texted me. He asked what time I was heading out tomorrow so he could come pick me up.

I bit my lower lip as I typed my reply:

Chapter 4

I typed out a quick apology.

[ No worries. It's a last-minute trip, so let's take a raincheck. Sorry about that! ]

He didn't miss a beat. He accepted it happily.

[ That's okay, I'll wait until you're free. Be safe on your trip. ]

He was so sweet and considerate. I could practically cry.

But the more I stared at the travel itineraries on my desk, the tighter my jaw clenched. The boss was gone. I grabbed my phone and gave in to the intrusive thoughts.

I filmed a video, taking a ruthless inventory of every single item in his office. Everything from his designer umbrella and his crystal espresso cup, to the custom Italian rug under my feet. From the imported leather sofa he sat on, right down to the used toothbrush sitting by his private bathroom sink.

I typed out the caption:

[ Tossing all this on eBay after work to blow the cash in Vegas on eighteen male strippers. ]

I posted it straight to TikTok.

Right before I went to sleep that night, I opened the app out of habit.

99+ notifications.

Against all odds, the video blew up.

And the top pinned comment:

[ Are you psycho? Why not just list me on there too? What, waiting for a better offer? ]

That deeply familiar, condescending tone sent a chill down my spine.

The comments section was a bloodbath of mockery:

[ Welcome to the caught in 4K exhibit. ]

[ LMAO first time seeing someone get busted by their boss for memeing. ]

[ Creator: Gets fired tomorrow for stepping into the office with her left foot first. ]

[ This office is obscenely rich. Put it on TikTok Shop for $9.99, I'm not even joking. ]

[ Boss: Is this your office to sell? ]

[ Boss: You better sleep with one eye open tonight, kid. ]

[ Look how much your boss cares, he's checking your mental health. ]

[ You're a legend. I requested to follow you, just so you can decline it. ]

[ Who sells a used toothbrush? Be so for real. ]

[ The bristles are frayed anyway, just ship it to me for free. ]

I glanced up at my own account handle: MyBossIsAMassiveJerk.

My blood turned to ice. No way. It couldn't be a coincidence. I knew for a fact Julian didn't even have this app installed.

I clicked into the top commenter's profile. It was completely blank, but the IP address matched my city.

I let out a slow, shaky breath.

Then, my phone buzzed with a text message.

[ Blair, please be prepared to explain your username when you clock in tomorrow. ]

I'd have a much easier time explaining why I didn't just put him up for auction. At least then I could confidently tell him nobody wanted to buy him.

Right now, my top priority was calculating exactly which foot I needed to step through the office door with tomorrow to minimize my chances of immediate termination.

As you can clearly see, my boss possessed a toxic, filthy mouth. He'd curse out a stray dog if it walked past him on the wrong side of the sidewalk.

As the CEO of the conglomerate and the sole heir to the family empire, he had a great face, an incredible body, and insane generational wealth. Aside from that, he possessed absolutely zero redeeming qualities.

The financial media summed him up perfectly: A corporate thug. Unpredictable and unhinged.

Normal corporate warfare: Ruthless but staying out of federal prison.

Julian's corporate warfare: Shameless and utterly lacking basic human decency.

When employees at Douglas's company screwed up and deeply offended a major client, the PR disaster went viral on X. Julian milked it for everything it was worth.

He hijacked our official corporate account and fired off three consecutive tweets, gleefully kicking his rival while he was down.

[ What's the situation, Douglas? I thought the customer was always right? ]

[ Wow, thanks for the massive market share donation, Douglas. We'll carve your name on a plaque in our lobby. ]

[ Seeing half the internet roasting you breaks my heart. Where's the other half? Did their keyboards break? ]

Douglas slammed his keyboard and blocked him on everything.

Chapter 5

To sum it up: Not illegal, but absolutely a dick move.

Honestly, the only reason I survived as his secretary was because we were cut from the same twisted cloth. My moral compass was highly negotiable, while the fat paycheck he deposited into my account every month was a cold, hard fact of nature. To properly exercise my flexibility, I had to respect the facts. I couldn't exactly reject cash in the name of morality, right?

Simply put: the man paid me too damn well. You could use that kind of money to test a saint, but I'd fail before the ink on the check even dried.

So we teamed up. Basically, he opened the cage, and I was the attack dog.

Aside from his drop-dead gorgeous face, Julian was famous for two things: a venomous tongue and holding grudges until the end of time.

Earlier this year, our rival, Mitchell's company, deliberately lowballed a bid and snatched a massive contract right out of our jaws. Later, both our companies ended up bidding for the same prime real estate on the West Side. Since our corporate headquarters sat directly across the street from theirs, Julian specifically installed a massive neon middle finger on our roof, flashing it directly at their building every single night. If anyone asked, he called it a contemporary art installation.

After a month of blinding them, we realized the financial damage to their side wasn't quite hitting the mark.

So it was my turn. I threw on a janitor's uniform, infiltrated their headquarters, and poured a pitcher of boiling water straight into Mitchell's prized, imported bonsai tree. Word on the street was the superstitious old bastard cried like a toddler that afternoon.

The very next day, Mitchell hosted a VIP dinner for his top clients. Under Julian's cover, I slipped into the restaurant's kitchen and swapped out twelve plates of Beef Wellington for expired canned baked beans. The deal instantly blew up in his face. Mitchell had no choice but to pack up and head home.

Mitchell was getting up there in years and obsessed with his cardio, so he commuted on a custom road bike. I sneaked over to the rack and let all the air out of his tires. Julian rolled up in his Maybach, pretending it was a coincidence, and graciously offered the stranded old man a ride home without batting an eye.

It left Mitchell completely screwed in the head. He couldn't cuss Julian out, but he sure as hell didn't want to thank him either. Right as he was trying to figure out what kind of twisted game Julian was playing, he walked through his front door and got his ass handed to him by his wife.

The reason? A bright red lipstick stain smeared right on the hem of his dress shirt.

By the time Mitchell pieced it all together, he was choking on his own misery, totally unable to defend himself. Beaten in the boardroom and battered at home.

Once Julian got bored of torturing the old man, he locked his sights on Callum.

Callum hadn't even graduated college yet and didn't give a damn about the family business. He was forced to clock in every day, spending his hours playing video games or binge-watching Netflix. Julian bribed Callum's secretary.

If the kid turned on Netflix, she yanked the Wi-Fi router. If he booted up his games, she stole his charger.

Within two weeks, Callum didn't just get roasted alive by his toxic teammateshis ranked standing tanked three entire tiers. We figured the idiot would catch on eventually, but instead, he stormed right into his dad's office, his chest puffed out.

"I told you this building is totally cursed! You couldn't even keep that stupid plant alive, but you never listen to me!"

So he naturally ditched the office to rent a VIP room at an internet cafe. I naturally arranged for a stunning girl in a tight dress to accidentally wander into his private room. And Julian naturally made an anonymous tip to Mitchell, claiming his son was out causing scandals instead of working.

The absolute beatdown Callum caught from his parents that night perfectly matched how hard Mitchell sobbed while complaining to Julian's grandfather the next day.

Thanks to our relentless physical sabotage, Julian's company won the bid.

To celebrate, Julian parked a set of massive, high-powered speakers right at the entrance of our building, blasting hardcore heavy metal on an endless loop.

As his devoted secretary, I knew exactly how his twisted mind worked. If he blinked, I already knew who he wanted dead. I silently pulled out a massive banner and unfurled it across the front doors:

JULIAN'S EMPIRE STANDS TALL. MITCHELL'S TRASH TAKES THE FALL.

Hardcore metal paired with a giant red banner.

Mitchell stormed out of his building, his face turning a dangerous, vein-popping shade of plum. He marched across the street, jabbing a trembling finger straight at Julian.

"You vicious little punk! I held you when you were in diapers, and you grew up into a complete sociopath!"

Julian arched an eyebrow, his tone deadpan and completely serious.

Chapter 6

"Mitchell, kind words build bridges, but nasty words just burn them down. Try not to say things that ruin the vibe next time."

On the bright side, I was currently Julian's most efficient secretary. He couldn't find anyone more sociopathicwait, I mean, more talented than me.

On the dark side, I'd spent the last six months playing the spineless pushover. Whatever he said, I nodded along. And I'd absolutely ruined my cover today.

If it were just this one incident, I could probably brush it off. The real issue was that we hated each other's guts in high school, and I'd totally screwed him over right after graduation.

I never imagined that six years later, I'd be working as my sworn enemy's secretary.

After getting my Master's, I landed a decent job at a massive corporation. But my department manager, Paul, started sexually harassing me.

I snapped and beat the living hell out of him. The old creep spent two months in the hospital. Because the old bastard was the CEO's brother-in-law, I didn't just get firedI got blacklisted across the entire industry.

Right when I was facing rock bottom, Julian showed up. He didn't settle our old scores; he handed me a massive contract. Forgave the past, recognized talent. He was truly a saint.

To keep him acting like a saint, I decided to play the obedient dog. I never expected my mask to slip today. A total miscalculation.

The man kept grudges locked in a vault. What if he cashed in the old debts and the new ones all at once? I couldn't even stomach the thought.

It was terrifying. I was going to sleep.

Goodnight, you trash fire of a world