Tangled In Bed With My Boss

“The shareholders' meeting is at 8 a.m. and will run until 9 a.m.” I peered up to make sure he was listening. “Then you'll have breakfast with your stepmom and your younger sister at Santiago Restaurant by 12, before joining Dr. Luke for the hospital tour at 1 p.m.”

“Anything else?” he asked, flipping through the document with that deep scowl that never failed to show up.

I smiled.

“That will be all, sir.”

I shut the door and went back to my office.

My name is Jasmine Harrison, and I am the personal assistant to the CEO of the largest construction company in New York City.

George Corporation.

It was a wonderful feeling to manage his time and make his life much easier.

I turned around my desk and smiled at how much I had achieved.

My mom passed away, leaving us overwhelmed with business debt. The loan sharks constantly hounded us, and Dad often came home with bruises from being beaten.

It was heartbreaking.

I knew we needed to act.

I came to New York despite my dad's warnings.

It turned out to be a terrible decision.

I burned through my small savings in just a few days and ended up washing dishes at a restaurant for a rough paycheck.

That was where I first heard of him.

Almighty George Lincoln.

The architect whose designs transformed the New York skyline.

Magazines dubbed him Angel Hands. But the women were more stirred by the way he looked, and his name remained on the lips of every woman who entered that restaurant.

I was intrigued.

Every day, while cleaning, I would linger near the TV, waiting for his face to appear on the daily business news.

After work, I would browse his company's website to admire his photos and designs, wondering what it would be like to work for a man like him.

Then one day, I saw a post.

Personal assistant to George Lincoln needed.

I applied immediately.

The next day, I entered a room filled with women and men dressed in Gucci and Chanel for the interview, while I shrank in my thrifted clothes when it was my turn.

I still didn't understand why he chose me, but I still remember that velvety voice.

“You are hired, Ms. Harrison.”

Everyone said I wouldn't last at George Corporation. He fired assistants every week.

But—

A loud ring cut through my little reminisce.

I grabbed the phone. “Yes, Jasmine from George Corporation speaking.”

“I’m calling to inform you that General Ray has agreed to a meeting.”

I nodded, already reaching for my notepad. “Date and time, please.”

I jot it down accurately, then dropped the receiver and hurried toward Mr. Lincoln’s office.

The elevator dinged as I shut my door, and Abbie, the sales manager, stepped out of the elevator with two cups of coffee. “One vanilla latte for you, and a black coffee for our cold boss.” She winked.

“Like you didn’t bring that up here just to see him,” I said, taking the cup now used to her bringing coffee up here instead of going down to get it.

“A girl has to take risks for what she loves.” She winked again.

I chuckled softly. “If you say so. Thanks.”

I took a sip and nearly groaned. It tasted even better on an empty stomach.

Abbie tapped my shoulder.

“What?”

“Is the boss still in?”

I nodded.

She shook her head.

“How do you stay so calm around him? Don’t you get flustered?” she whispered. “If I were you, I’d faint.”

I rolled my eyes. “You wouldn't.”

“That’s a lie. I would pee myself if he looked at me the way he looks at you.”

I frowned. “What does that even—”

George’s door clicked open.

Abbie gasped. “I’m leaving. Good luck.” She dashed for the elevator.

“Miss Harrison.”

I turned, and there he stood, every woman's fantasy dressed in a perfectly tailored suit.

My breath caught, even though I had just been in his office minutes ago.

I steadied myself, warning my brain not to get flustered by this man.

It was no use.

Still, I froze when he made that move, pulling his suit jacket closer to himself.

The fabric barely hid the sharp lines of his body.

Only a few hearts could resist skipping for him, including mine.

“Mr. Lincoln,” I said quickly, hoping he hadn’t caught me staring. “I was just on my way to your office.”

“Were you? I heard voices.” His gaze flicked briefly to the elevator before returning to me.

I couldn't implicate Abbie.

“No. I stepped out to get the coffee.”

His eyes lingered on my face for a moment longer.

I quickly changed the topic.

“General Ray's assistant called. He agreed to a meeting.”

“That’s good.”

I smiled, checking my wristwatch.

It was two minutes to eight.

I lifted his coffee. “I'll take this to the boardroom first.”

“Mm. Let's go.” He was already striding forward.

I hurried behind him.

This was one of the reasons he was so respected. Time bent around him, not the other way around.

All his partners had to adapt to his style.

The boardroom was already packed.

Mr. Lincoln took his seat. I placed his coffee in front of him and moved to sit next to him when one of the investors, Mr. Mark, grabbed my wrists.

“Where have you been all these days, Jasmine?” He lifted them to his lips and kissed them tenderly.

I shook my head at his playful gesture.

He was the youngest shareholder at George Corporation. At just thirty-two, he owned several successful businesses and even had a private jet.

We had worked together once on the Federal Project for George, and he had been unusually hands-on.

“I know. I have been very busy.” He reached for my hands again, but Mr. Lincoln suddenly appeared beside me.

When did he even get up?

I lowered my hands, allowing them to shake hands.

I turned to take my seat but bumped into George. I stumbled back before I could reach the chair.

George's hand slid around my waist, steadying me as I stood up. I caught my breath and opened my eyes to find myself face-to-face with Mr. Lincoln. A shiver ran down my spine. I was panting in his face.

“Get seated,” his hand tightened around my waist, and his frown deepened. “I don't pay you to be mingling with my investors.”

He let go and sank into his seat as if nothing had happened.

I huffed and sat down.

He slid a document in front of me and said, “Review them.”

I glanced at him, frowning. “Right now?”

“Is there a problem with that, Miss Harrison?” he murmured. “Do you have something more important to do?”

“Like taking notes for the meeting?” I met his hostile gaze, feeling my chest tighten.

Did I offend him?

He shrugged and gestured toward the documents. “That's more important.”

I picked them up, my frown deepening.

Since when did legal review become my responsibility?

I slightly shook my head and forced myself to focus on the pages.

My phone buzzed.

I hesitated before glancing at George and then checking the message.

Mr. Mark texted.

Would you mind having lunch with me?

A clearing of the throat drew my attention. I turned toward George, who was glaring in my direction.

“You are distracting me!”

I quickly set my phone down, bowed to apologize, and resumed reading the files.

But the meeting hadn't even started yet.

Most of the shareholders around the table were chatting or scrolling through their phones.

I shook my head and flipped to the first page.

When the meeting finally began, I quietly put down the document, saving myself the headache of decoding penalties and clauses.

My phone buzzed a second time.

Mr. Mark sent another text.

I couldn't risk getting in trouble, but curiosity got the better of me when my phone stayed lit.

George was now presenting the Zee Hotel project. His voice was steady and commanding the room.

He wouldn’t notice.

Carefully, I slid my phone off the table and onto my lap.

Do I have a yes, Ms. Harrison?

I shook my head with a smile.

George would be busy with his stepmother and sister at lunch.

I could go.

I started typing—

“Ms. Harrison—”

The sudden bark sent a ripple through my chest, and my hand trembled.

The phone almost slipped out of my hand.

George had stopped his presentation, his eyes fixed on me with a hard scowl, while all his partners turned to stare in my direction.

I wished I could shrink under the table.

“What is your problem?” he threw a marker onto the table.

I started when it hit my arm.

The conference room fell silent.

“Why are you on your phone?” he snapped.

“I—I...” My voice wavered despite my efforts to keep it steady.

His eyes darkened, and he lowered his chin.

“Turn it off or get the hell out of my boardroom.”