Home with my bosses 1

Ivy’s POV

I instantly fell in love with my bosses the first time I saw them.

I mean, who wouldn’t? They were ridiculously handsome, sharply dressed, and oozed the confidence that made you forget how to breathe. They were billionaire twin brothers: Alex and Asher Anderson, the ruthless young tech gurus tearing Wall Street apart one deal at a time.

So yeah, I was thrilled to be hired as their executive personal assistant.

That is, until I actually met them.

I realized they were complete jerks the second I walked into their office. Arrogant. Cold. Insufferably demanding. They made me question all my life choices. I should’ve quit, but the paycheck? Too damn good.

Now, two years later, I’ve grown used to them and learned their routines, moods, and tempers. I've adapted and survived.

But this morning, everything changed.

An email was sent to everyone at the company: Due to a contagious flu spreading through the office, all employees will work remotely until further notice.

At first, I was thrilled, finally a break from their icy glares.

But then came the catch.

As the executive assistant to the CEOs, Ivy Patterson will continue in-person support. Please report to their Seattle residence effective immediately.

Great. Just great.

I packed a small suitcase with enough clothes to last a few days and drove to their estate in Seattle. The house was bigger than I expected. More like a mansion ripped straight from a billionaire’s fantasy.

The massive front gate opened automatically as I approached, and I drove in slowly, taking it all in. The house was modern and sleek yet somehow still warm. It screamed power.

As I stepped out of my car, the front door swung open, and Asher was standing there, waiting for me.

For the first time since I met him, he looked human.

No suit. No tie. Just jeans and a fitted grey t-shirt that clung to his toned frame. His messy dark hair looked freshly tousled, and his face was free of that usual smug expression.

God help me, he looked hot.

“Ivy, glad you could make it,” he said, flashing a grin that made my stomach flip. He stepped aside, motioning for me to come in.

“It’s part of my job, Mr. Anderson,” I said as I walked past him.

“You can call us by our names. We’re not at work anymore,” he replied casually.

“Alright, Mr—” I caught myself as he raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, Asher,” I corrected.

“That’s my girl,” he said with a wink.

My girl.

The words hit me like warm honey. Why did I suddenly feel like blushing?

Just then, Alex walked into the room.

Shirtless.

My eyes widened. He wore nothing but a pair of low-slung jeans that hugged his hips and left little to the imagination. His abs were perfectly sculpted, and every line and dip of muscle was on full display.

Holy. Shit.

I was shamelessly staring at his V-line, mouth slightly open, until—

“You’ve got a little drool there,” Asher teased, biting back a laugh.

Heat rushed to my face as I tore my gaze away, mortified. Alex, of course, looked completely unfazed.

After a few awkward pleasantries, both of them escorted me upstairs to my guest room. It was breathtaking—floor-to-ceiling windows, soft sheets, and a private bathroom that looked like a spa.

“If you need anything,” Asher said, pausing at the door, “my room’s at the end of the hallway.”

He winked before walking off.

And just like that, I realized something:

I might not survive this week.

At least not with my sanity intact.

Asher disappeared down the hallway, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts and a flutter in my stomach I couldn’t quite shake.

I took a deep breath and stepped into the room.

It was stunning—soft cream walls, a king-sized bed draped in silken sheets, and a chandelier that sparkled like a sky full of stars. I set my suitcase down on the bench at the foot of the bed and began unpacking slowly, trying to ignore the heat crawling across my skin.

But damn it, I could still see Alex’s abs in my mind. The man looked like sin dipped in sunlight.

And Asher? That wink had no business making me feel that warm.

After changing into something more appropriate, black leggings and a fitted white top, I pulled my hair into a loose bun and left the room. I needed to focus. I was here to work, not daydream about bending over the kitchen island while one of them whispered filthy promises in my ear.

No. Stop it, Ivy.

I made my way downstairs.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air. Jazz music played low from hidden speakers. The house felt too calm for what it was doing to my pulse.

I found them both in the living room. Alex was lounging on the leather sofa, now wearing a plain black shirt that still hugged every muscle like it was custom-made for his sinfully broad chest. Asher was at the bar area, two laptops open and a stack of papers spread out between two mugs.

“Ready to work?” he asked, eyes roaming my body for a second too long.

I nodded. “Of course. Where should I set up?”

Alex patted the space beside him on the couch. “Right here. Between us.”

Between them?

I walked over slowly, careful not to show the panic or the thrill stirring beneath my skin. I sat down, only to realize how close they both were. I was sandwiched between pure testosterone and heat radiating from both sides.

Alex handed me a tablet, his fingers brushing mine. His touch was electric, even that small contact sending a shiver down my spine.

“We need you to review the Q3 investor report,” he said in a low voice. “And we might have a few… additional tasks for you later.”

He didn’t mean paperwork, I could tell.

I tried to stay calm, but the way his voice dipped and his eyes lingered on my lips made my thighs clench involuntarily.

Asher leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear. “You’re tense, Ivy. Relax. You’re home.”

Home? This wasn’t home. This was a lion’s den.

And I was the prey.

Still, I nodded, trying to play it cool. “Okay. Let’s work.”

For the next thirty minutes, we reviewed spreadsheets, answered emails, and discussed logistics. It was regular, routine, and professional… if you ignored the tension thick enough to slice with a knife.

Then it happened.

I leaned forward to reach for a file on the coffee table and felt a warm hand on my lower back.

Asher.

I froze.

He didn’t move it. He just let it rest there, firm and possessive, not inappropriate, but not innocent.

“I’ve always liked watching you work,” he murmured beside me.

I turned slightly, about to respond, but then Alex’s hand brushed my thigh slowly, deliberately, lingering.

“Very focused,” Alex added, his voice a husky rumble. “And very… distracting.”

My lips parted, breath hitching.

This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

But it was.

“You guys—” I started, heart pounding.

Asher gently took the tablet from my hands and set it aside. “There is no more work for today.”

Alex leaned in closer. “You’ve been working hard for us for two years. Don’t you think it’s time we reward you?”

My throat went dry. “Reward me how?”

They didn’t answer. Instead, Asher leaned forward, his hand sliding up my spine to cradle the back of my neck. His lips hovered just a breath from mine. His eyes searched for me, asking permission.

I didn’t pull away.

His mouth met mine hot, firm, and so utterly consuming I forgot how to breathe. I melted into the kiss, gripping his shirt, arching toward him like I’d been starving for this.

Then Alex’s hand gripped my thigh harder, turning me toward him. The moment Asher pulled back, Alex claimed my lips, rougher, deeper, needier. I gasped into his mouth as his fingers dug into my waist.

I was being kissed by both of them.

And I liked it.

No, I craved it.

When they finally pulled back, I was breathless, lips swollen, heart thundering in my chest.

Asher’s voice was low and full of heat. “You’re ours now, Ivy.”

“And we don’t plan to share you with the world,” Alex added. “Only with each other.”