All Chapters of Accidental Night with the Boss: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

The suitcase wheels rattled as Isabella dragged them across the terminal floor anxiously, her scarf tight around her neck. 9:40. She was early.But of course she quickly realised that Vincent Sinclair was already there.Standing near the Sky Lounge entrance, immaculately pressed suit, phone in hand, watch glinting under the lights. He didn’t even look impatient, but something about the way his gaze flicked to the clock said he’d been keeping score.Isabella instantly felt ridiculous. Did he time his life down to the second just so other people can feel late?Two bodyguards flanked him—broad, suited, dark glasses indoors. They looked like they’d bench-press anyone who coughed in his direction. Over the top if you asked her.When Isabella rolled up, one reached for her suitcase. She hesitated, but Vincent gave a faint nod without even looking at her. So… suitcase surrendered.“Good morning, Chairman Sinclair,” she said, cheery as she could. It wasn't like she couldn't pretend that she

The waiter led them down a narrow hallway lined with velvet curtains, the kind of place where the wallpaper alone probably had its own trust fund.It looked that expensive.Isabella tried not to trip in her heels. She really needed to master walking in them—her boss certainly seemed to like them—but how was she supposed to focus on her balance when Vincent’s broad shoulders filled her vision?Now she'd seen his bare torso twice. The first time was still a blurry mess in her head. The second time? She'd been sober. And it was glorious.She’d despised his shamelessness earlier and sworn off looking at him altogether on thecride here.But now? She noticed his tie.Blue. Exactly the same shade as her dress.Coincidence? Probably. Still, a traitorous voice in her head whispered 'couple aesthetic' and she wanted to kick herself. It must have something to do with the air in France.The waiter opened a set of carved double doors, and inside was a long mahogany table gleaming under crystal l

Vincent’s brow arched, his mouth twitching in disbelief. “Are you seducing me right now, secretary Rossi?”The words came with a short laugh, low and unexpected—even to him.Isabella blinked, then let out a hiccupping laugh of her own. “Ha! Me? Seducing you? Don’t flatter yourself, Mr. Sinclair. I'm—I’m just saying… you smell better than Greg. Regional Director Greg always smelled like boiled cabbage. Did you know that?”Her laughter wobbled into a sob mid-breath. She tugged harder on his tie, pulling him closer.“Ugh, why am I telling you this?” she groaned, her eyes glossy.“I don’t even like you! You—” she jabbed a finger at his chest, missing twice before landing on the solid muscle there, “—you lectured me thirty times in seventy-two hours. Thirty! When I worked under Greg, the general manager said I was brilliant. Genius assistant material! And then you…” Her voice cracked. “You just sit there with your stupid jaw and your stupid designer suits, looking at me like I’m—like I’m

The steady beep of the monitor was the only sound in the private ward.Vincent’s eyes cracked open slowly, vision blurred, his body sluggish as though every muscle weighed twice what it should. A dull ache thrummed in his skull, a fever pressing heat against his temples.For a moment, he wasn’t sure where he was—until the sterile white walls, the drip hooked to his arm, and the faint antiseptic tang gave him the answer.A hospital.His gaze shifted—and caught the slumped figure in the chair beside the bed.A hoodie. Baggy jeans. Head tilted forward, chin dipping, jerking back up only to fall again. Like a chicken pecking rice.His brow furrowed. Who was—?Her hood slipped slightly as her head lolled to the side. A patch of pale skin caught the light, a soft line of her cheek, lashes pressed to flushed skin.Isabella Rossi.His exasperating secretary.For a second, he just stared.She looked just a small, plain, almost fragile girl, curled up like she belonged more on a park bench than

“Thank you again, really!” Isabella said in a rush, half-bowing with the sleek black food box hugged tight to her chest. “I owe you, like, five coffees. Or maybe a date if you weren't already engaged.” She laughed awkwardly.Anna de Vries gave a polite, knowing smile, bouquet of lilies balanced in her hand. “There's really no need. You’re very welcome.”They stood just outside the hospital entrance. People swept past them, coats and scarves, some giving odd glances at the mismatched pair: Anna elegant in cream silk of the latest season and Isabella swallowed by a hoodie and jeans.Isabella shuffled backwards toward the hospital doors, tripping slightly on the curb in her hurry. “Okaybye!” she squeaked, then darted through the glass entrance like someone had set her backside on fire.Anna lingered for a moment, heels clicking softly against the pavement. Her eyes followed Isabella’s retreating figure, lips curving faintly. Then she shook her head, adjusting her grip on the lilies, and