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Home / Romance / Oops, I Kissed My Villain Boss / Kabanata 11 - Kabanata 20

Lahat ng Kabanata ng Oops, I Kissed My Villain Boss : Kabanata 11 - Kabanata 20

97 Kabanata

ELEVEN.

Florence POV.Gunfire cracked like thunder splitting the day. Screams tore through the air as the pedestrians scattered in every direction, heels slapping against pavement, groceries spilling, car doors slamming shut in panicked haste.The crowd was frantic, people running, stumbling and climbing over others that had fallen in a bid to get to safety.Anthony shoved me down, one arm locking around my shoulders, the other pressing my head to his chest as bullets whistled over us. "Godswill!" His voice was like steel cutting through chaos. "Shoot back! Don't let them pin us down."My ears rang. My body was shaking so badly I could hardly breathe. I clutched at his sleeve, nails digging into fabric, too stunned to move.Another round of gunshots came, destroying the glass walls behind us. We ducked down, Anthony shielding me as the broken pieces rained over us."Godswill, shoot back damn it." Anthony roared drawing me closer to him. Godswill’s gun barked in return fire, sharp and mercile

TWELVE

Anthony cut me off with a sharp look. "Sit."I didn’t. My hands were shaking again, breath shallow, panic creeping up my throat."You had a minor seizure and your blood pressure was too high," he said finally, setting the pan aside. His tone was clinical, almost detached, but his eyes flicked to me—watchful. "Shock. You passed out before I could get answers.""I—" My voice cracked. "I don’t— have any history of that. Even in my family.""It's not genetic, the doctors checked you out. You just need to rest.""Just rest?""Yes, just rest. Which is why," he continued, "you’re not running off again until we know exactly who’s behind this."I stared at him, chest heaving, thoughts racing too fast to pin down. Fear, confusion, anger—everything tangled together.And yet, beneath it all, one thing stuck stubbornly in place: I was alive. I was here. And the man who terrified me, infuriated me, confused me—had carried me through it. Anthony was the biggest puzzle in this entire situation. This

Thirteen.

The car rolled to a stop in front of the police station, and before the driver even shifted into parking, I was already tugging at the door handle ready to fly off into the station. “Miss Florence,” the driver blurted out frantically, leaning his torso halfway across the console. “Please, let's go back. Just… don’t do this. Let’s go back and do what My St.Louis. You don’t need to be here and I don't need to be caught as well. The boss gave me specific instructions that I have to compile with no matter what. Please don't do this to me and to yourself.” I froze, one foot already on the ground, turned around staring back at him. His face was pale, beads of sweat clinging to his hairline though the air-conditioner hummed softly. “Go back?” I echoed, feeling confused. “After what just happened? After bullets rained down in broad daylight? You think I’m just going to sit in Anthony’s house twiddling my thumbs while people try to kill me? Come on I don't trust that man to the point I will

Fourteen

Florence POV The inspector’s phone buzzed, and within seconds, his expression turned sharp. "Unfortunately there is an emergency,”he muttered, already halfway out of the room. “Mr St Louis I will inform you if anything comes up.” The door slammed shut, leaving only the faint hum of the overhead light and Anthony’s silence. I swallowed, suddenly aware of how loud my own breathing sounded. Anthony adjusted the cuff of his shirt, his jaw tight, his movements precise and cold. He wasn’t looking at me and he definitely was not speaking to me. He was like a storm that I had no map for. I could sense his was angry but it was inevitable. He likes being obeyed and I liked doing what I wanted.When he turned toward the door, I panicked and quickly stepped in front of him. “Wait.” He stilled, his gaze flicking briefly to me, flat, unreadable, and then he looked away again. My mouth moved before my brain caught up with it.“I..I couldn’t just… just sit there like some helpless little mouse,

Fifteen

Florence POV.The ride back home felt endless, a silent purgatory. The driver’s eyes, glimpsed in the rearview mirror, were carefully, professionally blank, which was somehow more humiliating than judgment would have been. My mind was a broken reel, replaying every micro-expression on Anthony’s face: the flatness, the coldness, the final, devastating flicker of disgust. I had told myself his opinion was irrelevant, that I was the one playing him, but the hollow, aching void in my chest was a traitorous, physical truth. When the car finally crunched to a halt on the gravel driveway,I didn’t speak. I just shoved the door open and stumbled out, wanting only the sanctuary of four walls, however fragile, to contain my shame. But the moment my hand touched the cold brass of the front door knob,I knew sanctuary was a fantasy. The house didn’t feel empty; it felt just wrong. The air that seeped out from the crack in the door was thick, stale, and humming with a dissonant energy. It was th

SIXTEEN

Florence's POV I cleaned my tears and braced myself. I was not going to fall just yet. I picked up my mom, it was not a struggle due to her light weight, and took her to her room. Her hands were bloody and so I got warm water and a cloth to clean her up. I got twizers from the first aid kit to remove the broken shards that were embedded in her skin. Once I saw done I left the room not before staring at my mom. The woman who gave me life and filled my life with light and love was now swamped with darkness.I went back downstairs and got to work. I cleaned up. I swept the glass, each scritch-scritch of the brush a condemnation. I bagged the ruined food, the physical manifestation of her rage. I wiped the greasy smear from the wall. My arm throbbed, a deep, aching pulse beneath a clumsily applied bandage. Now,I sat in the middle of the tidied-up wreckage, curled into the corner of the sofa, hugging a cushion for an anchor. The heavy, medicinal silence pressed down on me, a physical we

Seventeen

Florence's POV.I pushed my way through the revolving doors of the towering glass building, my heels clicking against the marble floors with a rhythm far too cheerful for the atmosphere i stepped into.My steps slowed down. Something was… off. Very off. The lobby was unrecognizable. It was like I had entered into a new world.Flowers in elaborate vases lined every corner—lilies, roses, carnations—all in shades of red. Petals dusted the polished marble floors like crimson confetti. Heart-shaped balloons floated against the ceiling, their glossy surfaces reflecting the lights in mocking pinks and reds. Even the usually austere reception desk had ribbons trailing down its sides.My brows shot up. “What in the name of tacky Hallmark…?” I whispered under my breath.But it wasn’t the decorations that unnerved me. It was the silence. No chatter, no phone calls, no hum of busy workers rushing about. The place felt frozen, as if i had walked into a mausoleum disguised as a carnival. And the

Eighteen

Florence's POV.Anthony’s stride was brutal—long, unrelenting, the kind that dared anyone to get in his way. I had to half-jog to keep up, with Daddy long legs over here, my heels tapping too loud on the marble floors, while the storm brewing on his face cleared out the hall faster than a fire drill. Employees ducked into side offices, pretending to be suddenly fascinated by printers or paperwork, just to avoid being caught in his path. He was such a menace and I was stuck with him.I clutched the strap of my purse tighter while balancing the stack of files and muttered, “I still don’t get it. Why on earth does the office look like Cupid threw up in there? It’s June by the way. We are nowhere near Valentine’s Day.”He didn’t so much as glance at me. His eyes stayed forward, jaw clenched, voice clipped. “I’m well aware of what month it is.”“Well, could’ve fooled me. Balloons, roses, chocolates—half the place looks like a Hallmark warehouse exploded because Cupid got the address wrong

Nineteen

Florence's POV.I stood in the middle of the office, my arms folded tight across my chest like a shield. The hum of whispers and the shuffle of papers around me weren’t subtle—every single employee was stealing glances, watching me and Anthony like we were some cheap soap opera. The air was thick, like it was daring one of us to snap.He stopped in his tracks, turning to see that I hadn't moved an inch. My disapproval was evident on my face.Anthony’s gaze was steady on me as we walked forward, his jaw carved from steel. “Florence,” he said, low but sharp, “we need to move away from here.”I should have listened. I should have taken the easy way out, kept my head down, and walked quietly to wherever he wanted me. But no—my anger was boiling too close to the surface. The more I saw the people watching, the more my insides screamed that I wasn’t going to back down. Not this time.“Why?” I hissed, my voice cracking slightly, betraying the tremor underneath. “Because you don’t want your

Twenty

Florence POV.The morning of the event, my heart was already doing a nervous tap dance against my ribs before I even stepped out of the taxi. I had spent the last couple of days in a whirlwind of calls, becoming a second hand interior decorator, and logistical nightmares, all to make this night completely perfect. It was my first task and I wanted to prove myself and also wipe off the smug look on Anthony's face. I kept repeating a mantra in my head, that I was ready and I had done everything possible—but the moment I walked through the towering glass doors of the office and the full, breathtaking scope of the event hit me, my nerves flared all over again.The transformation was total. Our dull, corporate office, usually a sea of beige cubicles and fluorescent lights, had been reborn into streamers in rich gold and ivory draped gracefully from the high ceiling, catching the soft glow of uplighting. Every table was a masterpiece, draped in elegant cloths with delicate centerpieces of

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