009

SHAYLE

If I knew my new look would land me in this kind of situation—where an arrogant, disrespectful fuckboy assumed I was trying to crawl into his bed—I would have stuck to my plain Jane self.

Because this was too much. Too damn much.

My mouth hung open for a few seconds before I snapped it shut, staring at Lucien like he’d grown two heads.

“You’ve got it totally wrong,” I managed, clearing my throat.

“I don’t find you attractive at all. And I’d appreciate it if you kept your clearly personal, sex life out of work while I’m here.”

His brows lifted slightly, clearly taken back.

I refused to give him another second of my attention since I was clearly pissed.

Turning sharply, I walked out of his office with the manual clutched tightly in my hands. My palms were damp, my chest rising and falling too fast.

I entered my new office, if you could even call it that. It was small, minimalist, and directly across from his. Just close enough for him to bark orders at me whenever he pleased.

I stood there for a moment, staring blankly at the wall as I processed what had just happened.

Was I rude?

Maybe.

But hell, he was rude first, so why couldn’t I be?

I sighed, tugging off my heels and slumping into the chair. The soft leather groaned under my weight as I threw the manual on the desk. I ran a hand through my hair and let out a low groan.

Three weeks. Just three fucking weeks of working for Lucien Dorne.

I already knew it would feel like three years.

I dragged the manual back toward me and flipped it open, the smell of paper filling the air. I started reading, eyes scanning through endless company policies, meeting protocols, and rules about confidentiality that could bore a corpse.

Exactly one hour later, I was done. My eyes hurt, my brain felt fried, but I didn’t want to give him any reason to complain. So, I stood, straightened my dress, and headed back into his office.

Lucien was buried in paperwork, pen moving fast, head bent low. His sleeves were rolled up now, exposing his forearms, veins standing out faintly under the light.

I ignored the sudden flutter in my chest and focused.

“I’m done with the manual,” I said, keeping my voice as even as possible.

He didn’t look up. “Good. There’s an iPad on the table. Go through my schedules for today.”

I nodded quickly and grabbed the iPad and stylus. He still didn’t glance at me, his attention fixed on some document like I wasn’t even in the room. Fine by me though.

I scrolled through his schedule and began organizing it, checking meeting times and locations.

“You have a PR department meeting now,” I told him after a moment. “Then later, there are documents to sign for the new interns in the ICT center.”

That got his attention. He finally stood up, slipped his suit jacket back on, and adjusted his cufflinks before walking toward the door.

“Follow me.”

We headed out together, though “together” wasn’t exactly the right word. He walked several paces ahead like I was invisible.

His stride was steady and commanding, the kind that drew stares from everyone around. I trailed behind, holding the iPad like a lifeline.

The meeting went on for nearly an hour. He dominated every conversation, cutting through presentations like a blade. Sharp, confident and intimidating. I mostly stayed quiet, taking notes, occasionally catching the judgmental glances from the others in the room.

By the end of the day, I felt like I’d run a marathon.

Every small mistake I made; every typo, every misplaced file, he pointed it out. Loudly and mercilessly.

He yelled once when I printed a document in the wrong format, then gave me twice as much work to “help me improve.”

What an asshole.

By the time I finally left the building, I was completely drained. My bangs clung to my temples, my heels felt like torture devices, and my hands ached from typing.

As I stepped out of the building, the evening air hit my face, cool and light. I exhaled, shoulders slumping. I couldn’t believe that it was only day one.

My phone vibrated in my purse.

I pulled it out, frowning at the unknown number flashing on the screen. I didn’t usually get calls. I barely spoke to my family anymore after the fall out, and my ex had already moved on.

Curious and stupidly hopeful that maybe it was a delivery, I answered.

“Hello?”

“Where are you?”

My stomach dropped.

Lucien.

Just hearing his voice again made my pulse spike. I swallowed, glancing around.

“I’m… on my way home,” I said carefully.

“Where exactly?” His tone was flat, but there was something in it; a hint of control.

Shit. He was probably calling to dump more work on me. And if I told him I was still near the office, he might actually drag me back.

“I’m already home,” I blurted. “Just got out of a taxi, actually.”

A long pause followed. My throat went dry.

Then his voice came again, low and lazy. “Come back to the office.”

I blinked. “What? I just told you I’m home. What could possibly—”

“Don’t bother lying.” His voice dropped lower. “Turn around right now unless you want to forget about ever resigning.”

My blood ran cold.

I turned around slowly, and there he was—standing right inside the reception area. Two bodyguards flanked him, and those dark eyes of his were fixed straight on me.

Oh my god.

My shoulders sagged in humiliation. My cheeks burned as I lowered the phone and stared at the floor.

I forced my feet to move, every step heavy as I walked back inside. I could feel the receptionist’s curious eyes following me as I approached him.

“I… I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I didn’t mean to—”

He didn’t even acknowledge it. His jaw tightened slightly as he looked me up and down.

“Why did you leave?”

I blinked at him, confused. “It’s closing hour,” I replied weakly. “I thought I was done.”

His lips curved faintly, not into a smile but something crueler.

“There’s something I forgot to tell you, Miss Vale,” he murmured. “The normal closing hour doesn’t apply to you. You leave when I say you do.”

My jaw nearly dropped, but I managed to stop it.

He didn’t wait for a response. He simply turned and began walking toward the elevator.

“Follow me.”

I stood there for a second, too stunned to move. Then anger surged in my chest.

What was wrong with this man? Did he enjoy making my life miserable? This was just the first day for fuck sake!

I hurried after him and, before I knew what I was doing, I reached out and grabbed his arm.

“Why do you hate me so much?” The words spilled out before I could stop them. “You’ve worked my ass off all day, and now this?”

He froze. Slowly, he looked down at where my hand was on his sleeve, then back up at me. His gaze hardened, eyes dark as coal.

He took a step closer until there was barely any space between us. I could feel the heat coming off him, smell his cologne—rich, intoxicating yet infuriating.

His hand reached up and pried my fingers off his arm, one by one, until they fell away.

“Just so you know,” he said quietly, voice edged with disdain, “I don’t find you attractive either. So do us both a favor and don’t touch me again.”

My heart thudded painfully.

He didn’t wait for my reaction. He just turned and walked away, his bodyguards following behind.

I stood there, frozen, mouth slightly open as I felt humiliated beyond words.

Turns out my shitty boss was the pettiest human on earth.

And I hated him. I hated his attitude, his stupid expensive suits. I hated that he could make me feel so small in a single sentence.

And yet… as I stood there in the bright light of the company's lobby, clutching my phone and biting back a curse, one thought cut through the anger—I still had three more weeks of this torture.

God help me.