My Boss Is The Rumored Beast

Katlyn 

“Reject it!”

I didn’t even look up from the tablet. I paused, then continued.“It’s a collaboration request from—”

“Reject it.”

I inhaled slowly through my nose, already feeling the headache brewing behind my eyes. “Sir, this is the third partnership proposal from the textile conglomerate in Zurich,” I said, clutching the leather-bound tablet to my chest. “They’re offering a forty-percent stake in—”

“I said reject it, Katlyn.” The words came out in a clipped, rapid-fire tone, followed by a sharp, shallow breath as if he were suppressing a groan.

My pen paused mid-air. For a second, I considered stabbing the paper. Or him.

Instead, I smiled tightly. “Noted.”

“Next.”

I felt my eyes twitch. It was only 4:15 PM, but the usual corporate hum of the building had shifted into a frantic, hushed energy. Outside the glass doors, I could see staff moving in a blurred rush, desperate to clear their desks before the deadline.  “Right. And the interview request from Global Finance? They’ve been trailing us for six months.”

“Deny them.”

Of course he would.

I flipped to the next page, my voice flat. “A merger proposal from—”

“Not approved.”

“Charity gala invitation.”

“Discard it.”

I finally looked up, my lips barely able to keep the forced smile. “Sir, you've rejected nearly every partnership request and…”

His eyes, a stormy, unyielding grey, darted to me. His jaw was set so tight I thought I heard the bone creak.  “I don’t approve of them indulging in personal businesses, Katlyn… reject them all and don't question me about my decisions again.” 

Right. Because only to my boss is attending a charity gala, a criminal offense. He leaned back in his chair, and reached up, his fingers fumbling with his silk tie, loosening it with a sudden, forceful tug.

I furrowed. Mr. Hart would never tug at his tie. At least not in my presence. 

He adjusted himself, his broad shoulders shifting under his perfectly tailored suit. It was honestly unfair. Painfully unfair.

Because sitting right in front of me was one of the most ridiculously beautiful men I had ever seen. Sharp jawline, dark sleek hair, that stupid husky voice that always sounded like it belonged in a sinful late-night radio ad.

And yet… A complete nightmare.

A low snort escaped me before I could stop it. Good thing he didn’t hear it. Or maybe he did and just chose to ignore it like he ignored everything else that didn’t align with his very specific, very annoying standards.

To the world, working at Varlor Group was a dream. Countless articles portrayed Lukas Varlor Hart as the untouchable billionaire and a boss supposedly kind enough to let his employees off early. He was the golden boy of the corporate world, a man who had built an empire stretching across continents without ever seemingly breaking a sweat.

And the same man who enforced a strict closing time of six p.m. No one stayed a second longer.

People called it generous but I called it hell, because if you worked with him, you’d understand that those hours before six? They drained your entire soul.

“Anything else?” he asked again, already bored.

I flipped another page, resisting the urge to sigh loudly. “A media house requesting a sit-down interview. They’re offering—”

“Fuck sake Katlyn, is there nothing else on that pad in your hands that's actually lucrative?”

   ‘Maybe it will be if you let me complete reading it.’ I snorted inwardly, biting the extreme urge to say it out loud. But I sighed instead.

“They are but you have to let me read them all out—”

“No!”

“Okay,” I muttered, giving up.

I was about to continue when he raised a finger. His hand was trembling slightly, a strange contrast to his usual iron control.

 I paused mid-sentence, already annoyed.

  “Yes sir?” 

He looked up, and for a split second, the cold steel of his gaze was replaced by something else. A flicker of raw, unadulterated pain that made my heart skip a beat. Was I seeing things now?

"Are the staff preparing to evacuate?" he asked suddenly, his voice rasping. "Send out the reminder. I want no one on the premises after the clock strikes."

"They're getting ready, sir," I replied, my brow furrowing again. He hadn't always been this erratic. In the early days, he was just a demanding billionaire; now, it felt like he was a man under siege. "Are you alright, Mr. Harts?"

He snapped his head toward me, a sharp glare pinning me to the spot. "Has there ever been a time when I wasn't alright, Katlyn? Do your job."

"Right. Sorry, sir.”

“Get me coffee.”

Of course. 

“Yes, sir,” I said, voice dripping with politeness that deserved an award.

I turned, clutching the iPad to my chest, and headed for the door. The moment I stepped out and it shut behind me, my face dropped. 

“Arrogant dude,” I muttered under my breath.

At least let me finish the briefing. How he made billions while rejecting every partnership in existence was a mystery I wasn't paid enough to solve. Another mystery was his strictness with the 6pm rule. It made me wonder if the rumors about the janitor who went missing after returning a minute late were actually true. 

It was a story literally everyone in Varlor Group knew by heart.

I made my way to the private kitchen. There were staff for this, obviously. But no—Mr. Control Issues had decided I was the only one who "didn't make it taste like burnt dirt.”

I reached for the mug when my phone buzzed. Then buzzed again, and again.

I frowned, pulling it out quickly.

Rowan, my boyfriend of five years. 

I leaned against the counter and opened the messages.

Rowan: You didn’t forget tonight, did you?

I blinked.

Shoot!

Another message came in almost immediately.

Rowan: That “shoot” you just said? Yeah, I heard it in my head. Which means you forgot.

I winced. He knows me way too well. 

Rowan: Katlyn, it’s our fifth anniversary. Don't tell me you forgot. 

My shoulders dropped and I hate to admit how right he was. I had forgotten. I exhaled slowly, guilt creeping in as I kept reading.

Rowan: Ever since you got that job, I’ve been somewhere between your schedule and an afterthought. Six p.m. after work isn’t too late to spend time with someone you claim to love. Anyways,  I’ll pick you up for dinner by 8:30.

We had both made plans and thank God he mentioned it. 

I stared at the screen for a moment before typing back.

Me: I’m sorry baby. I didn’t forget intentionally. It’s been a lot lately. Don’t pick me up, I’ll meet you there. I promise I’ll make it up to you.

He wasn't entirely wrong, but he wasn't right either. Between Lukas’s demands and helping out at Nana’s restaurant since her health started dipping, not to mention Dad’s surgery bills, I was drowning. 

Rowan was a good man, steady and kind, even if I wondered why he hadn’t popped the question after five years. Not that I was in a rush; I barely had time to sleep, let alone plan a wedding.

I finished the coffee, brought it back, and set it on his desk. Thankfully, the kitchen was adjacent to his office. I did not collide with the staff all rushing things to beat the deadline.

Lukas was on a call, speaking rapid-fire German. He took a sip, gave a curt nod, and muttered, "Note down the schedule for next week and submit the presentation for review before leaving. The conference is tomorrow."

I nodded, finished the notes, and retreated to my desk outside his door.

The next hour passes in a blur. Just as I pulled the flash drive containing the final presentation from my laptop, my phone rang and without checking the caller I.D, I picked it up and pressed it to my ear.

  “Hello…” 

“Katlyn! It’s Nana—she collapsed!”

My heart dropped into my stomach, and without thinking, I threw the flash drive into my bag, grabbed another from my desk, and sprinted into Lukas's office.

“Sir, family emergency. I have to go,” I said, my voice breathless. I dropped the drive on his desk. “That’s the file for the presentation.”

He didn't even look up from his papers, just flickered his fingers in a 'go away' gesture. 

***

By the time I reached the hospital, the panic had subsided. Nana was sitting up, looking annoyed at the doctors.

“It’s just exhaustion, Katlyn. I’m fine,” she insisted.

“You’re seventy-two, Nana. You can’t run a kitchen alone,” I scolded, though I felt the weight of relief. My parents were there, looking worn out but okay.

Once we got her home, I helped her into bed. My mother told me to go get some rest, mentioning she’d be heading back to the hospital to stay with Dad. I kissed Nana’s forehead and headed to my room. I’d moved back home after Dad’s surgery to help save money, but I missed my space.

It was almost 7:00 PM. I looked at the black dress I’d bought online—a sleek thing with a ripped-out back that was definitely too sexy for a casual dinner, but perfect for an apology. I showered, did my hair, and applied enough makeup to look like a human being again.

“I still have time,” I thought, looking at the clock. “I can finish that chapter.”

Aside from the corporate grind, I had a secret. I wrote steamy romance novels for an app—vivid, high-tension erotica. It was my only escape. I pulled the flash drive from my bag, pushed it into my laptop, and waited for the files to load.

My blood ran cold.

There were no chapters. No scenes of "The Alpha's Possession." Instead, there were spreadsheets of the New York expansion plan. The Varlor Global presentation that we have tomorrow! The same ones my Boss was supposed to go through tonight!

Holy shit!

In my panic at the office, I’d swapped them. Which meant… Lukas had my flash drive. Lukas had the drive containing thirty chapters of the most graphic, scandalous romance I’d ever written.

“Oh, no!”

I checked the time. 7:45 PM.

If I moved now, I could get to the office, swap them, and still make it to the restaurant by 8:30. Lukas was a workaholic, but even he usually stayed in the private residence upstairs after six. He wouldn't have checked the drive yet. He couldn't have.

But then the rule?

Fuck the rule. I would rather have him kill me for breaching the strict 'no entry after 6:00 PM' policy than have him go through my… fuck. My family had no idea I was a popular erotica writer, and my boss certainly wasn't about to find out!

Without thinking, still dressed in my date-night best, I grabbed my bag and dashed out of the house.

“Where are you going looking all pretty, Sis?” Killian, my brother, asked as he passed me in the hall.

“To save my damn life!”