All Chapters of Oops, I Kissed My Villain Boss : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Florence’s POVThe office was too quiet that morning. The kind of quiet that makes you feel like the world is holding its breath.I came in before anyone else. The air smelled faintly of cleaning polish and burnt coffee from the night guard’s thermos. The windows still had condensation on them, catching the light from the rising sun in thin silver lines. I dropped my bag by my desk and sat down, powering up my computer.Work. Focus. That was the plan.I’d told myself that if I drowned deep enough in routine, maybe my mind would stop wandering to the flash drive sitting in my purse. The same one Anthony had pressed into my hand last night, right before he’d told me my father was alive.Alive.The word had sat in my head like a stone at the bottom of a lake—heavy, still, impossible to ignore.I hadn’t slept. I’d replayed Anthony’s expression in my head again and again—the flicker of hesitation before he said it, the soft certainty in his voice. I wanted to believe it was a mistake. Or w

Florence's POV “Anthony, this isn't—”“I don't want Layla,” he cut in, his voice absolute, leaving no room for doubt. “I never have. I’ve made that explicitly clear to her, more than once. But you… you look at me like I’m a threat you need to survive, not a person you can trust.”I was trapped by his gaze, by his proximity. The clean, sharp scent of his cologne was everywhere. The warmth of his body was a tangible force against the chill of the wall.“Then stop acting like a threat,” I managed, my voice barely a whisper.He leaned in, his lips close to my ear, his breath a warm brush against my skin. “Maybe if you stopped treating me like one, I wouldn't have to.”A sharp, startled gasp came from our left. A small group of employees stood frozen, their eyes wide. They quickly looked away and scurried down the hall, but the damage was done.“Anthony,” I hissed, my face flushing with heat. “Everyone is staring.”He held his position for a long, tense moment, his body blocking me from v

Florence's POV.He studied me quietly, that infuriating edge of a smirk threatening his lips. “You didn’t object to it there.”“Because you trapped me in a room full of billionaires and your entire board!” I hissed, stepping closer and jabbing a finger in his direction. “What was I supposed to do? Stand up and shout ‘liar’ in your face? You backed me into a corner!”“That would’ve been an entertaining sight,” he muttered, a dark amusement in his eyes. “Anthony.” I said his name like a curse.He sighed, the sound weary but his gaze sharp. He pushed off the wall and closed the distance between us in two steps. “Fine. You want the complete truth? Harold Fielder is the one who’s been blocking our access to the Eastern Sector. The only viable route into the territory where your father's last signal was traced runs directly through his private land. His jurisdiction and everyone there is under his control even the police.”My breath caught in my chest. “What?”“You heard me,” he said, his

Florence's POV The street outside my apartment was no different from a crime scene without the yellow tape. Bright camera flashes cut through the dark. Voices shouted over each other. Microphones were thrust forward like weapons. I saw my name on the signs they held. “Anthony St Louis secret lover!” one said. “Corporate mistress exposed!” read another. “Company scandal!”A cold feeling spread through my body, sharp and heavy.Then I saw her.nMy mother.She was sitting on the wet pavement, barefoot. Her thin nightgown was soaked through. She rocked back and forth, her hair a tangled mess. Her lips moved, whispering words I could not hear. Her face was not confused. It was pure fear.Something broke inside of me.I dropped my bag and ran.“Mom!” I shouted.The reporters swarmed. The cameras turned toward me. The shouting grew louder.“Miss Davidson! Is that your mother?”“How does it feel knowing your family’s insanity is now public?”I fell to my knees beside her. The cold from the gr

(Third Person POV — Gabriel)The concrete floor was cold and damp beneath Gabriel’s knees. The chill seeped through his thin pants, a constant, aching reminder of his captivity. The air was thick and stale, smelling of rust, dirt, and the faint, metallic tang of old blood. A single, bare bulb hung from a wire far above, casting a weak, yellowish light that flickered every few seconds, making the shadows on the damp walls jump and twist.Two men stood in front of him. They were his guards, but they never wore any uniform. They were dressed in dark, practical clothing, their faces hard and expressionless. They were speaking to each other in low, rapid tones, using a language he didn't understand. The words were full of sharp consonants and guttural sounds that felt threatening even without translation. He could pick out no familiar roots, no comforting syllables.He lifted his head slowly, the muscles in his neck protesting. One of the guards noticed the movement and stepped closer, his