LOGIN“You have to seduce him, kiss him, fuck him, and do whatever you can to get the code from him without him knowing your true intentions. Or risk jail terms.” After making a mistake in her last operation, Charlotta Garcia Peréz was forced to work as a personal secretary to Bruce Moore, the CEO of LOTEX Group in Los Angeles. Charlotta was on a mission to get a code from Bruce to validate a transaction that had gone wrong in her last mission. She has no idea that Bruce Moore was not the type of man that most people would want to work for. He was demanding, ruthless, and incredibly particular about every aspect of his business. He had a reputation for being a tyrant, and one wrong move could cost your job, and even worse, your reputation. The thought of going against Bruce's wishes was enough to send shivers down anyone's spine. But Charlotta was determined to find a way to get the code from him no matter what it took. Will she succeed? Or will her growing feelings for Bruce Moore make the whole MISSION IMPOSSIBLE?
View MoreCHARLOTTA“Follow me home,” Bruce said, his voice low as the car door opened beside him. The twins had already disappeared into a separate vehicle, their laughter and ridiculous cologne still lingering like smoke.I paused with my hand on my own door handle, half-turned, just long enough for his request to hang in the air.For a second, I considered it.I considered letting the night stretch, letting the memory of his hands on my body replace the cold weight in my chest. Letting myself fall back into his bed like it meant something.But then I smiled softly. Controlled. Safe.“I can’t,” I said, adjusting the strap of my duffel bag on my shoulder. “I need to check on my roommate. She’s one moment from dying of boredom. Probably already talking to plants and naming them after her exes.”Bruce’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes flickered. Not anger. Not hurt.Something else.Possession, maybe.Or suspicion.“Roommate,” he repeated.I shrugged. “She’s dramatic. And she’s been alone
BRUCEHer perfection should’ve been a red flag. I no longer trust her. But I couldn’t give her up. Which made me hate myself a little.The way she moved—graceful, efficient, deliberate. The way she handled files, learned projections, memorized names and figures faster than some of my own analysts. She was everything a secretary shouldn’t be—too sharp, too polished, too… intentional.I should’ve pulled away.But I didn’t.Because every time I watched her walk across a room, hips swaying in unconscious provocation, or when she turned and met my stare without flinching—it was like trying to resist gravity. Impossible. And God, when I touched her…Yesternight still lingered on my skin like smoke.Her mouth. Her thighs. The way she let herself break open beneath me—then wrapped around me like I was both her weapon and her sin.I leaned back in the leather armchair of the hotel lounge, sipping from a crystal tumbler as Harvey flipped through contract documents beside me. Harley, ever the mo
CHARLOTTAThat night, when Bruce returned from the investors’ call, I decided to confront him about how he treated me earlier, and he flared up. He told me bluntly, “I have a feeling you’re not who you claim to be, and I no longer trust you.”The suite was dimly lit, shadows stretching long across the walls as the tension between us reached its boiling point. I stood near the window, arms crossed, teeth clenched, trying not to scream.“You no longer trust me?” I snapped, voice low but shaking. “You never did.”Bruce paced like a storm barely contained, his eyes glinting with something darker than anger—frustration, confusion, maybe even desire. He stopped short, facing me fully.“You give me every reason not to.”I felt the air choke in my throat. “Then why keep me here? Why not just fire me, Bruce?”He stepped forward, slowly, deliberately, like a predator with no leash. “Because,” he growled, “I can’t fucking stay away from you.”My breath hitched.And then he moved.One second I wa
CHARLOTTAI woke with a pant of pain rippling through my skull, sharp and unforgiving. The room was too still, too silent. The plush hotel duvet tangled around my legs like a noose. My mouth was dry, and my throat ached as if I’d been screaming in my sleep. I blinked, the sunlight slicing through a sliver in the curtains, making my headache pulse harder.I turned to the other side of the bed instinctively—expecting warmth, the weight of him, maybe even the soft exhale of sleep.But the sheets were cold.Untouched.Empty.Bruce was gone.I pushed myself up, squinting against the bright daylight pouring through the windows. The suite was pristine, his side of the bed perfectly made, his watch no longer on the nightstand, his tie that I’d pulled off last night—gone.I checked the time.11:42 a.m.A cold pit opened in my stomach. No message. No missed calls. No note. He’d just… left.I snatched my phone and called him. One ring. Two. Three. He answered.“Where are you?” I croaked, voice h
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