All Chapters of My Love, My Boss: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The first time I met him, I didn’t know he was my boss but I knew I wanted to slap him. It started in the kind of chaos New York makes look normal: late morning, two taxis double-parked in front of Wolfe Industries, a valet kid sweating bullets as he stared at a long, deep scratch across the passenger door of a matte black Mercedes. People were filming yet pretending not to film. The driver was a man in a black suit built like arrogance with cheekbones that could cut glass and a voice like calm before a storm. “You had one job,” he said to the kid, low and lethal. “Open the door. Not redecorate it.” “I… I think someone else clipped it while I…”The valet’s face burned red. I shouldn’t have opened my mouth. I really shouldn’t have opened my mouth but I’d been watching for ten seconds, and I hated men like him for twenty-three years. “Maybe if you weren’t parked like you owned the sidewalk, this wouldn’t have happened,” I said, stepping between them before I could stop myself. “You

The door to his office opened smoother than it should’ve; like it had been left unlocked on purpose. The air inside smelled colder. A captivating smell of expensive leather and wood and a trace of something smoky. Cazien Wolfe stood by the window, one hand in his pocket, the other swirling a glass of wine. The skyline stretched behind him like a crown he never had to earn. He didn’t turn. “I’d say I’m surprised,” he said, voice slow, “but I was counting the minutes.” My heels tapped once against the floor before I stopped, planting myself in the center of the room like I belonged there. “You humiliated me,” I said. Finally, he turned slowly towards me took a sip from his glass while his eyes raked over me with casual violence. “No,” he said,“ I reminded you whose house you walked into swinging an axe.” “This is my life Mr. Wolfe. I worked to get here. I earned this. You think this is a game?” I stepped closer, pulse rising like a dare. “No. I think it’s a hierarchy. You just for

The room was full. Senior execs, the client rep, two people from legal, and Cazien Wolfe seated at the end of the table like he was already bored with the outcome. I stood at the front, clicker in one hand, palm sweating against a notepad I wouldn’t use. The screen behind me glowed with the opening slide of a branding concept I’d built in forty-eight hours on too little sleep and too much caffeine. I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t stutter. I pitched. Clear, focused with Strategy-first. They all listened. Not out of respect at first just curiosity. Interns didn’t lead decks. Interns didn’t fill rooms like this but by the second slide, they leaned forward; by the fourth, they nodded and the final slide, no one was breathing through their mouths anymore. I clicked the remote once. The screen went black. There was silence - the contemplative kind. Then the client rep said, “That’s what we’ve been asking for.” A few heads turned my way. One woman even smiled but I didn’t move. I just looked a

The alarm hit like a punch. There was no warning and no email. Just a blaring, high-pitched screech followed by the overhead lights cutting into pulses of red and white. I dropped my pen. Someone near the copier swore. The floor scattered instantly - people grabbed their phones, bags and others yelled orders while others completely ignored the orders. This was chaotic. “Drill,” someone muttered. “Has to be.” I moved with the crowd toward the stairwell. Elevators were already dead. I hit the landing of the fourth floor and turned the corner. Then ran straight into someone. It was their shoulder first so, I backed up fast. Cazien Wolfe? Not again! He looked down at me with tight jaws, shirt sleeves already rolled up and no tie. It wasn’t panic on his face; it looked more like annoyance. “Seriously?” I muttered. “Do you follow me everywhere or is this the universe telling me to quit?” He didn’t answer. A wave of people passed behind us, yelling to keep moving. The air was thick wi

There was a box on my desk. It hadn’t been there when I left for the strategy floor twenty minutes earlier. Now it sat dead center on the matte surface, as if it belonged there. Square and Black. About the size of a hardback book. Wrapped in a single band of white satin ribbon, drawn tight across the middle and tucked under itself at the bottom. No bow, no card and no writing on the box, under it, or anywhere near it. I looked around. Nobody was paying attention. Devlin’s door was shut. Mira’s desk was empty. Across the bullpen, a few staff were locked into their screens, headphones in, coffee cups half full. I sat down slowly, kept my body still, and reached for it with one hand. The box was heavier than it looked. Solid and well-made. The kind of packaging you didn’t find at an office supply store. This had been chosen specially for someone special - or so I’d like to think. I untucked the ribbon and peeled back the lid. Inside, a square of crisp white tissue paper covered someth