FAZER LOGINJasmine.
“Em, Ma’am, I think there's a mistake somewhere.” I protest, walking into the secretary's office, completely confused at the post assigned to me on my file.
One that clearly wasn't in the email.
I didn’t want to take the job. I spent the whole morning at Walter’s place contemplating what this could mean for my future, and after seeing the pay of ten thousand dollars per month, I find myself here. Knowing that in three months I could afford the security deposit, first month's rent, furniture... and finally get out of my mother's house.
My determination shatters the moment I glance at the file and read my assigned role.
“I was hired as an Investor Relations Analyst, not a personal assistant…” I say, handing her the file, knowing there’s a mistake somewhere that needs to be sorted out. Walter is already in the meeting room, where they’ll be addressed, and there’s nothing wrong with his assignment.
The lady behind the desk tilts to the side, away from the monitor in front of her, one brow raised, asking the question she doesn’t say.
She clearly doesn’t care.
“A quad-shot black Americano—extra hot, no sugar,” she responds, and her gaze immediately returns to the monitor.
“Excuse me?” I sigh, my breathing suddenly becoming heavy.
“Coffee. He’ll be here in five.”
Simple. Cold. Dismissive.
“I’m not making Coffee for anyone…” I scoff, rolling my eyes.
She can’t be serious.
I spent two years working hard for this role, and now that I’m here, I’m being asked to make coffee?
“Suit yourself,” she breathes with no concern in her voice.
What?
I’m not going to take that attitude.
Fuck this, I’m going to HR.
I storm out of her office and head for the hallway.
My heart continues to thunder in my chest, a storm violently building its way up.
Standing in front of the elevator waiting for the door to open, I clench my fist, my nails digging into my palm, holding back the rage clogging my throat.
I pull out my phone, dialing Betty immediately.
“Hey girl, how’s your first day at work?” she beams as though I’m about to give her some good news.
“I hate him… I hate him so much it’s killing me.” I snap.
“Whoa, Jasmine, what’s wrong?”
“Vladimir! He’s an asshole! Can you believe he made me his PA? A fucking personal assistant, Betts…” I continue to ramble, not caring that my voice echoes through the hallway.
“Your stepdad? Why would he do that?”
“He hates me; that's why! He wants to punish me. I can’t do this, Betts… I thought I could survive this; I thought I could hold on, but a PA?”
“Jas, I need you to breathe and listen to me.”
I’m panting now, sweat rolling down my temple as I try to collect myself.
“I don’t believe he hates you; the man doesn’t even know you,” she tries to calm me down. “I know you're good at what you do, but have you thought about how this could be for your own good?”
“My good? I know getting a job was hard, but my CGPA—”
“For fuck sake, Jas, just listen! You don’t have to like him, just pull yourself together and when the day is over you don’t have to go back there anymore… but remember you need that money.”
My jaw tightens.
He must be punishing me!
It must have something to do with that night!
I scoff.
I still don’t remember what really happened, and he’s punishing me!
“Are you there?” Betty’s voice comes over the speaker again, but it doesn’t clear my mind of the one thing that seems to be the only reasonable solution to this.
I have to confront him!
“Jas…”
“I’m here… i’m better now…” I say, trying to catch my breath.
“Jasmine, I know you… Please be professional, don’t lose yourself and forget he’s your boss because he’s your stepdad.”
My mind is already made up. There’s no need to go to HR; I’m going to talk to him myself.
“Okay, fine…I won’t, " I respond, clearly a lie, but that’s the only way to get her off my back.
If only she knew. If she knew he was my mystery man, I’m sure she’d see things differently.
“Thanks, Betts, I’ll see you later…”
“Hm mm. Sometimes I feel like I’m your mother. I should spank some sense into you…” she exclaims tiredly before the line disconnects.
The moment my body attempts to move, the elevator finally dings open and… fuck.
My body freezes as the thick oud scent of his cologne drifts out before he even comes into view.
My heart skips a beat.
Grey old-money suit and a black tie. Black slick shoes and a black Richard Mille watch; my breath is snatched from my throat once again by the sight of him.
He moves, his eyes scanning me from head to toe very detailedly, and they linger around my waist for a second. But his expression doesn’t change. Just that locked jaw, perfectly aligned lips around a clean shave—
“Rookie!”
My body flinches.
Fuck!
He stretches out his hand, his eyes locked on me.
My vision blurs for a second, a sharp jolt coursing through me.
His brow furrows.
“What are you doing standing there? Where’s my coffee?”
That question slams against me like a truck, knocking me back to reality.
“Coffee? What coff—”
Right…
I shake my head, fist clenched around my phone, ready to dissect him.
“We need to talk…” I blurt out, and my voice creaks at the end, but I hold his gaze, trying not to blink.
He looks above my shoulder, and his body moves. He walks past me without saying a single word.
NO…
“I mean it…” I turn and follow behind him.
Silence still.
I continue to walk behind him, heading right back down the hall to the conference room. His height gives him a great advantage of taking a step when I have to take two, and when I finally get out of breath, I snap.
“Hey!”
He halts, but doesn’t turn to face me.
I walk until I’m two feet away, and the second I stop to catch my breath, he turns.
“You forget yourself, Miss Sinclair. This is a workplace, and you’ll treat it like such,” he snarls.
Oh no, he doesn’t!
“You shouldn't be wandering into strangers' rooms at night; men are cruel… aren’t they, Mr Kensington?” I retort almost immediately. It’s as though his coldness pushes me over the edge, forcing his words right out of me.
His eyes widen, and he snatches me by the arm.
I gasp out loud before I can control myself, heat shooting up my spine and spreading across my entire body the moment his palm comes in contact with my skin.
It’s a flash, just for a second, but the image his clear.
He’s seated on a bed with white sheets, the lights somewhat purple? I’m straddling him, his hands firmly on my waist…
He pulls away immediately, almost like my touch could burn. I catch the slight discomfort in his eyes, his adam’s apples bobbing in his throat as he swallows hard. Then he clears his throat and adjusts his suit like nothing happened. Like he didn’t feel the heat that made him pull away.
“Get my coffee and be at the meeting before it starts…”
Jasmine The movie seems to be quite interesting, but my mind is cut off by the heat radiating off me as Walter’s finger draws slow circles on my hand. He hasn’t even touched me yet, and I’m losing control. That’s when I realise I’m ovulating. It explains a lot and makes me feel better about my reaction to certain things. Yes, to Vladimir, of course. It had to be why I felt so… No! I can’t let the thought of him ruin this! I adjust closer to Walter, spreading my palm wider. He only smiles but doesn’t stop. We’re four hours in, and we’ve eaten the Chinese takeout he brought, talked about work, and even gone as far as greeting my mother in her room just because he said it’s wrong if she doesn’t know he’s here. He’s so perfect it makes me feel like a fuck up. Now I want more, but I don’t know how to ask or make the move. It should have been obvious because I changed into really loose shorts he only needs one hand to take off and a tiny top that makes my nipples poke out. My hair is
Jasmine “It’s okay, Walter; you don’t need to take sick leave from the office,” I continue to persuade him. “Babe—” “I mean it. You could come over to the house later; I’m literally not going anywhere. It doesn’t hurt as much anyway.” I sigh, sitting upright in bed, carefully adjusting the pillow under my left leg. As much as I hate being here, the second we got to New York, Vladimir drove me home, and we haven’t said a word to each other ever since. It’s been two hours since then, and he hasn’t come to check up on me. Not like I even want to see his stupid face. “Okay, I’ll come over after work. Would it be okay if I sleep over?” he asks, and I can hear the worry in his tone. “Walter, you don’t need to ask; we’re adults. Of course you can,” I say, a familiar warmth blooming in my chest. “I know it’s a day late, but we could have dinner in my room…” He gives a sheepish, low laugh. “What are you thinking… I know what it means when you talk that way.” “Oh my God, stop… you’re d
Jasmine I can feel it; everything inside me is so heightened that my body doesn’t stop shaking. Our breathing is synced, fast and rapid, his fingers digging into my waist as his grip tightens possessively. We’re pressed so tightly against each other, his intoxicating breath filling my lungs. Pull away… Jasmine. Please! My mind pleads with my body, but I don’t. I stay still until his lips almost touch mine. He freezes, eyes widening as though he’s just recovering his senses. It’s almost like he’s now thinking it through. “Get off…” he says sharply, leaning backward and pulling away. My heart stops. “But, your… you were…” I stutter, trying to peel myself off him. His fingers retract from my waist. His legs shift apart, creating enough space for him to push me away as though I’m suddenly a hot potato. Every heat inside me drains into pure horror and anguish as the look in his eyes changes. I push myself upright, scrambling backward. My heel catches against the edge of the flo
Jasmine Two options: get to the hospital and get him an EpiPen, or run back in there and look like a fool. I can’t alert him of that when he’s with her, even if some wicked part of me would enjoy watching his perfect composure shatter. He deserves to suffer for being such a fucking hypocrite. But I know how bad a peanut allergy can get, so the latter doesn’t really seem like an option. I’d messaged him the address to his suite at Santo Mauro and sent a cab to take him there; hopefully he’s still breathing in his room. The thud of my heels against the tiles echoes through the silent hallway as I sprint toward his room, my heart pounding against my ribs, the EpiPen clenched tightly in my fist. I don’t wait to catch my breath; I press the key against the scanner and pull the door inward. My body stills; my breath sticking in my lungs. Heat. In a single breath, heat shoots up my spine, flooding my veins.I stand still, gasping as an image flashes in my mind. My fingers trail the
Jasmine I’ve never been on a really important business meeting, but I’m sure this isn’t what it’s supposed to look like. Why did he have to rent out the entire restaurant and have a buffet being prepared for her? My jaw tightens, my eyes still on Vladimir, who now seemingly has a smile on his face. That's a ten on the scale of unprofessionalism. That's because I’ve never seen him smile. “The last time I saw you in Paris, you promised me a dinner and a building I can’t refuse…” Isabella’s rich, feminine, light voice comes. Paris? Dinner? So much for work is work. “And here we are,” he responds smoothly, not taking his eyes off her. My left eye twitches uncontrollably, another wave of repulsion surging through me. Why the hell am I here? It’s almost like I’m a disturbance to them, having to occupy the empty seat opposite to stop this from looking like what it really is. A fucking date! I swallow hard, watching her giggle at him in her red beaded dress and fancy hat. Her lips
Jasmine‘Thank you for last night.’ Five words that shouldn’t mean so much, but I’ve never heard those two words from Violet before. It’s the only thing that puts a smile on my face this morning.I’m standing by the private jet, a quad-shot black Americano in one hand, my phone in the other, and a messy bag of clothes slung over my shoulder. I’d dragged myself out of bed at five just to make it here on time. I hadn't even heard him leave this morning, and we’d driven to the airfield in separate cars. My eyelids flutter, a tired sigh slipping past me. I can’t help the wave of exhaustion from my lack of sleep that threatens to pull my body to the ground. “Miss Sinclair…” My breath catches as a familiar face comes into view. It’s her. The secretary from KGH. She has a tag on her. Hope. Really? How ironic. Her eyes scan me from head to toe, her brows furrowing in disgust. “Why do you look like this?” she asks, forcing my head down toward my body. Fuck! The drowsiness in my eye







