The Boss Behind the Mask

[Alexander's POV]

The glow of my phone lit up the dark room. You handled yourself better today. Her name flashed in my head before I even opened the message. Luna.

I stared at it longer than I should have. My hand tightened around the glass of whiskey I wasn’t really drinking. She didn’t even know I was watching her all day, that every step she took, every nervous glance, made my chest tighten like a vice. She was reckless. Careless. Completely oblivious to the storm she stirred inside me. And maybe that was exactly why I couldn’t stay away.

I sent the next message without thinking. Don’t ever lie to me, Luna. I always know.

I hated the possessiveness in my words the second I sent it. Hated that she made me feel like I’d lost control without even trying. And yet part of me wanted her to read it and shiver just like I had when she walked past my office this morning.

Sitting in the dark, I replayed the day over and over. How she tripped over that stack of files and how my hand had instinctively caught the last one before it hit the floor. I told myself it was reflex, a reaction any man would have. But the truth was, I hadn’t just saved the paper. I’d been saving her, in a way, even if she didn’t know it.

I hate how much my mind refuses to shut off. I’m a man who built an empire, who thrives on control, who bends people to his will, and yet she has me twisted around her finger without even trying.

And she’s completely unguarded. I don’t know if it’s courage or stupidity, but there’s something raw about her honesty that cuts through me. Most people are careful around me. They calculate every word, every smile, every move. Luna? She’s too real, too impulsive. Too dangerous.

I poured another glass and didn’t even drink. My thoughts were poison, each one a reminder that I was losing the battle I didn’t even realize I’d started.

By the time the city outside my window drowned in rain, I knew I had to see her again. Not because I liked her. Not because I wanted her. But because she belonged to this world, my world, whether she liked it or not.

I leaned back in my chair and considered my options. She would come to work tomorrow, clueless about the tension spiraling around her. And I’d be there, watching, pushing, testing, making sure she learned her place. But every instinct screamed that I’d be testing more than her ability to file papers.

She didn’t belong here. She wasn’t like anyone else. And that terrified me.

Sleep didn’t come. My phone buzzed again. Another text, same unknown number. I watched you today.

I gritted my teeth. How does she do this? How can one person make a man like me feel so alive and so… unsettled?

Her presence had invaded my office, my thoughts, my carefully built walls. And the truth I refused to admit even to myself was that I didn’t want her to leave. Not yet.

I closed my eyes and imagined her tomorrow. Walking into my office like she owned nothing but stepping into everything I controlled. My empire, my rules, my life. And maybe, if I let myself, her heart too.

I hate that thought. I hate that feeling. But it’s real.

The next morning, I walked into the office earlier than usual. My assistant wasn’t here, and I knew Luna would be waiting. That thought alone sent an unexpected pulse through my veins. I needed her there, in my office, fumbling over papers, asking questions, learning. I needed to see her in the chaos she didn’t know she caused.

And when she came in, bright-eyed and slightly terrified, my chest tightened. She tried to act normal, tried to act professional. But she was a hurricane contained in a glass building, and I had no interest in keeping it bottled up.

I didn’t speak at first. Just watched her. Every movement, every flicker of hesitation, told me more than words ever could. And I knew I would push her, test her, make sure she stayed sharp. But a part of me, the part I hated admitting, wanted to protect her too.

Because the truth was that protecting her felt as addictive as controlling her. And control alone was no longer enough.

When she handed me a report and our fingers brushed, I caught myself lingering longer than necessary. Too long. My pulse spiked, my mind went blank, and I had to remind myself that she was my employee. Nothing more.

I forced myself to sit behind my desk, cool and collected. “Good morning, Miss Reyes,” I said, voice steady. “Let’s start with your tasks for today.”

She nodded, but I could see the tiny flicker in her eyes. Fear, curiosity, and something I couldn’t name. She thought she was nervous around me, but the truth was the opposite. I was the one losing control.

Every word she said, every question she asked, made me want to bend the rules. To push boundaries. To see how far I could let her into my world before it broke me.

And then, just as I was thinking I could handle it, she laughed. A soft, unguarded laugh at a mistake she made filing papers. And in that moment, all the rules I swore by shattered.

I didn’t look away. I couldn’t. Because I realized something dangerous. Something I couldn’t fix with power or money. Something that made me want to risk everything.

Luna Reyes had claimed a part of me I didn’t even know existed. And tomorrow, and the day after, I would have to decide if I could survive letting her stay.

Later that night, I found myself staring at her name on my phone again. I hadn’t texted. I hadn’t called. And yet I wanted to.

I typed a single message and deleted it. Then typed another. And deleted that too.

Finally, I sent one. Short. Simple.

Be ready tomorrow. I’m testing you.

And I knew she wouldn’t understand yet. She couldn’t know that the test wasn’t about work. It was about her. About us. About the chaos I was too proud to admit I wanted.

And that was dangerous.