Becoming Madam Secretary Book Novels & Stories

Emma could still feel the weight of Chris’s words pressing against her as she left his office. The confidence in his tone and his absolute certainty that he would win were infuriating. As soon as she stepped outside, the senior secretary, a woman in her mid-fifties with sharp eyes and a no-nonsense demeanour was already waiting for her. “You must be Emma,” the woman said, giving her a quick once-over. “I’m Margaret, the senior secretary, and you'll be his assistant. I've been informed that you're starting immediately; let’s not waste any time.”

But before they found us my parents face an accident that leads to their death. Present, I was disturbed from the trance of my past of someone who knocked at the wooden door of my office. “Come in.” I command to the person at the other side of the door. “President, the members of the board are all in the conference room. They’re waiting for you.” I turned around to see peter who’s standing in front of my desk. “Okay. Let’s go.” I said as I walked straight to the door out of my office. The moment we got out of my office Peter informed me about the interview for my new personal secretary.

Eleanor suddenly spewed the words out of her lips, and she watched how the aged woman glances at her. "I don't know anything," madam Madison grabs the first aid box before walking to the door she halted but she wasn't staring at the girls. "... I no nothing about the king," she added, and she left the room. "That's weird, that woman knows everything and I can see it in her face!" Willow rasped, disgruntled. Eleanor chuckles at how her face looks like a grumpy child. "That face doesn't suit you at all," she told, changing the topic.

Madison asked, her smile unwavering. Eleanor gave her a withering look. "You? And what would that be?" Madison pointed at herself. “Me.” Before Eleanor could scoff, a ruckus erupted outside the office. The secretary’s panicked voice clashed with the clicking of cameras and hurried footsteps. Reporters barged into the office, ignoring protocol entirely. “We’re here to speak to Mrs. Madison, please!” one of them said. Madison turned to them effortlessly, like she’d rehearsed this moment in her head a hundred times. “Yes, I’m here,” she said, smiling as she stepped forward. “My name is Madison.”

She glanced back down at the leather-bound book resting on the floorboards beside her. The empty pages seemed to stare up at her, daring her to turn them. With a trembling hand, she picked it up again, the leather warm against her palm. She knew she should get up, should finish unpacking, should do something practical, anything to distract herself from the throbbing between her legs. But she couldn't. She was hooked. The anonymous writer had become a guide, a seductress whispering secrets into her ear, and Pinky was a willing student, desperate to learn every lesson.

"The Principessa is so lucky. That Underboss is the most untouchable man in this city, and you still landed him!" Lucia accepted the flattery with satisfaction and tipped her head back to drain her champagne. "Of course! I get whatever I want! As for those obstacles in the way..." Her eyes grew hazy as she laughed coldly with clear implications. "They've already been kicked into the trash heap." The sound of heavy firepower blowing open the front door instantly drowned out the music. Everyone screamed and crouched down with their heads covered. The scene descended into chaos. Matteo appeared first in the doorway, radiating cold murderous intent like the Grim Reaper himself had come to collec

the secretary said. The secretary is very pretty: slim, with straight blonde hair, ocean blue eyes, long lashes, and flawless makeup. I wish I could be like her, but my makeup is always messed up, which is why I stopped putting on makeup. She is the kind of woman who should be a main character in a romance novel. “Miss Hart, are you listening?” “Yes, thank you,” I said, then hurried to the office. I knocked on the door. “Come in,” I heard from inside.

“Ma’am? Mrs. Gray...what’s wrong?” Marcie didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her throat was too tight while her lungs were refusing to draw in enough air. Her hands trembled around the box of cookies, the ribbon cutting into her fingers as if it were mocking her. She had come here to apologize. To smooth over something small. To bring sweetness into his day. How stupid. How unbearably stupid. The hallway blurred as she walked faster, almost running. Her heels clicked too loudly against the carpet. Behind her, she could hear the receptionist’s hurried footsteps, and the anxious softness in her voice.

Helen stared at the email on her screen, reading it twice before it truly sank in. Dear Helen, We’re pleased to offer you the position of Secretary at Cole Designs… Helen stared at the screen. Once. Twice. Her eyes scanned the words again, slower this time, as if they might disappear if she blinked too fast. “No…” she whispered under her breath. Her fingers loosened. The phone slipped—tilting dangerously in her hand before she caught it just in time, her heart lurching up into her throat. “Oh my God…” She pushed herself upright on the bed, the sheets tangling around her legs as her breathing grew uneven.

AUTHOR’S NOTE If you’re here for polite romance, fade-to-black sex, or anything resembling manners… close this book right now and go clutch your pearls somewhere else, sugar tits. You’ve been warned, princess. Chapter – 0001 GRACE I, Grace Monroe Sullivan, head of a charity foundation and daughter of Arthur Sullivan, the very conservative President of the United States, am staring at a cardboard box of blow-up dolls. And no, these are definitely not kids’ toys. I know the box contains blow-up dolls (free condoms and lube, too, apparently) because in bright orange lettering on the side, it announces the contents: LIFELIKE PERSONAL ROMANCE DOLLS! NOW WITH FREE GLOW-IN-THE-DARK-CONDOMS AND LUBR