My Boss by Day, My Husband by Night

Elena

"Baby Girl, spread your legs."

A low male voice pulled me out of the haze of my own consciousness.

The words seemed laced with some kind of magic, instantly igniting the excess of hormones flooding my body. My mind had already shut down, leaving me with a single thought: I wanted him to fill my emptiness, right now.

I hooked my arms around his neck, my legs obediently wrapping around his powerful waist.

"Give it to me! Now!"

As if obeying an order, the man pressed me down beneath him, tore off my underwear, and pushed his way into me. In an instant, every hair on my body stood on end, and an overwhelming sense of satisfaction dragged me under. Like a fish craving water, I drowned in desire, unable to pull myself free.

...

Harsh sunlight fell across my face, and I couldn't open my eyes.

I pulled the blanket over my head to escape the glare—only to catch a scent that wasn't my own. It wasn't the perpetual damp, briny smell of my apartment. It was a refreshing, high-end cedarwood fragrance.

No—this wasn't my home!

My eyes flew open.

The first thing I saw was the crystal chandelier directly above me. The room was spacious and silent, and the shaft of light spilling in made my eyes sting. I sat up at once, the blanket sliding away, and the cold air in the room made me shiver.

Oh my God—where were my clothes?

I've never slept naked in my life.

I looked down. There were faint red marks scattered across my neck, and a clear fingerprint bruise on my side. When I shifted slightly, that suggestive, aching soreness came rushing in.

My mind went completely blank.

Where was I? Why was I here? What on earth had happened last night?

Maybe all that thinking overworked my brain, because a headache began to throb. And with it, fragments of the previous night surged back like a rising tide.

Last night had been Charlotte's birthday party. She'd made a point of introducing me to Mr. Beckett, one of the investors backing her husband Jude. I knew Charlotte badly wanted me to win Mr. Beckett's favor. But Mr. Beckett was absolutely not my type—balding and running to fat, with a belly round as a wine barrel. Whenever I spoke to him, he'd fix me with an appraising stare, like a wolf eyeing a rabbit. So I'd spent the whole party avoiding him.

Charlotte tracked me down and handed me a cocktail I'd never tasted before. We sat together by the pool, drinking glass after glass. I must have gotten drunk—so dizzy I couldn't even walk. After that, I remembered nothing.

Naked, I climbed out of bed to search for my clothes. From the entryway to the bedroom, they'd been flung along the way, each piece a reminder of how frenzied the night had been.

When I picked up my clutch, a business card slid out. Beckett.

His greasy face and enormous beer gut leapt instantly to mind. My stomach heaved. I bolted into the bathroom and retched over the toilet, but nothing came up. I splashed cold water on my face again and again, desperate to calm myself. But the woman in the mirror only looked exhausted and helpless.

What was wrong with me?

My phone suddenly rang, yanking me back to reality. I stared at Charlotte's photo on the screen and pressed answer.

"Elena, did you sleep well last night?"

There was a faint, almost imperceptible smugness in her voice.

My heart plummeted, and a chill crept up from the soles of my feet.

"Charlotte, what did you do to me last night? I can't remember anything after I got drunk."

Charlotte put on an innocent act. "Sweetie, you have to trust that whatever I do, it's for your own good!"

"What did you do to me?" I could no longer contain my anger—I nearly screamed the words.

Charlotte was silent for two seconds, then let out a soft, mocking laugh. "Mr. Beckett is very taken with you. He promised me yesterday that he'd treat you well!"

"So? Elena, they say Mr. Beckett is amazing in bed. Bet you had the time of your life!"

My blood ran cold.

"Charlotte, I was raped by Beckett!"

"Don't put it so ugly," Charlotte blurted out. "Getting into Mr. Beckett's bed is the dream of every girl in America. Elena, if it weren't for that drink I gave you last night, how would you ever have landed a golden opportunity like this?"

I'd never understood how I—someone who could hold my liquor—had gotten drunk on just three glasses. No wonder I remembered nothing about last night. The drink Charlotte gave me had been spiked.

And what disgusted me even more: because of the drug, I'd thrown myself at Beckett last night, even begged him to take me.

"Charlotte, this is a crime!"

Charlotte remained unmoved, lecturing me with a straight face. "I'm doing this for your sake. Mr. Beckett comes from old money. As long as you're with him, he'll solve every financial problem you have."

"There are plenty of women in our circle, but I went out of my way to set you up with a rich man. I really don't understand what you're so upset about."

I let out an anguished scream, all the bitterness in my heart dissolving into ragged sobs.

"No! This isn't what I wanted!"

Charlotte listened calmly, waiting until I'd steadied myself before she spoke again. "Elena, don't be so ungrateful. If I were you, I'd be happily coaxing Beckett into paying off my debts. Take just one step forward, and you'll be free of that miserable life of yours. You should be thanking me!"

Then she hung up in a huff.

Charlotte wasn't wrong. Hooking up with a rich man was the shortcut out of my financial crisis. A law firm intern's salary was nowhere near enough to cover my bills and rent. Just yesterday afternoon, my landlord had given me a final warning: if I didn't pay the rent within three days, he'd throw me out on the street. My mother, addicted to drugs, had run up a mountain of debt and then gone into hiding—so naturally her creditors had come after me. They'd warned me that if I didn't help pay off her debts, they'd come make a scene at my firm.

Right now I had thirty dollars in my bank account. Forget rent and debts—I was about to run out of money for food.

To an outsider, Charlotte had done nothing wrong. She really had pulled me out of the fire. But this wasn't what I wanted.

In college, my advisor had offered to fund the rest of my degree—if I became his mistress. During my internship, my boss had promoted me over everyone else to be his personal secretary, with top-tier pay, on the condition that I let him have his way with me. Even the debt collectors, seeing how broke I was, had suggested I start an OnlyFans, then had the gall to lecture me: "There's no need to live so poor. Once you set aside your pride, making money is easy."

But none of it had ever shaken my resolve.

My dream was to become a licensed attorney, and so I refused to let a single stain fall on my record.

Yet Charlotte had ruined everything.

She had personally delivered me into Beckett's bed. Was she truly doing this for my good?

Not a chance.

Last month, Jude's company had gotten tangled in a tax lawsuit—and that case happened to belong to my firm. According to my coworkers, the scandal had made Jude's investors lose all faith in him. To salvage the situation, Charlotte wanted to use me, a blind date arrangement, to buy an investor's goodwill. If I really did win over the investor the way she'd hoped, Jude's company would be saved.

I looked at Beckett's business card on the table, and my stomach churned again. I could almost still smell that rank, oily scent of his in the air.

And the mastermind behind all of it was Charlotte's scheming. She had sold me out.

I couldn't let this go.

I had to expose Charlotte's true motives. She needed to apologize and compensate me for my losses. And if she refused, I wouldn't hesitate to put my own expertise to use and drag her into court.

With that, I threw on my clothes and got ready to leave.

Just as I opened the door and rushed out, I slammed into a solid wall of black suit and alcohol. My briefcase dropped to the floor, and the documents inside scattered everywhere.

Before I could even apologize, a teasing male voice sounded in my ear.

"Baby Girl, where are you off to?"