After Sleeping with My Returnee Boss Chapter 1

A business trip, one too many drinks, and I ended up in bed with my boss.

I woke up in the middle of the night, sobered by sheer panic, and made a run for it.

The moment I got home in the pre-dawn gloom, I scrambled to check my bank account.

An hour later, my heart sinking with every passing second, I had no choice but to call my boss.

“Mr. Kingsley? I was just calling to see if you were satisfied with the VVIP service I arranged for you last night.”

Silence. Then, his signature deep voice, raspy with sleep and a faint London accent, crackled through the phone.

“I was drunk, Abby, not erased. Now get your ass back here and pick me up.”

Me: Picking you up is not an option. But I can arrange for you to be… disposed of.

* * *

The company had just transferred a new boss from our London office.

Marcus Kingsley. Young, rich, and so handsome it was almost unfair. He made all the other so-called “elites” in the office, who had seemed perfectly presentable before, look like absolute trolls.

In the two months he’d been with us, Marcus had proven himself to be low-key in person but extravagant in his methods. He’d silently bulldozed through a year’s worth of backlogged problems, solving them all without breaking a sweat.

At the quarterly review, our department didn’t just become number one; we also walked away with the largest team bonus. The old-timers who used to mutter about “overseas transfers being all style, no substance” suddenly shut their mouths. They were now the first to offer a friendly word or try to claim some distant connection.

And once everyone knew Marcus was single, the women in the office went on the offensive.

Take Jessica, for instance, widely considered the office bombshell. Her skirts got shorter, and whenever she went to Marcus’s office, she practically tried to sign documents from his lap.

But Marcus deflected every advance with infuriating, effortless grace.

After six months, the female troops had all retreated, defeated and demoralized.

One day, they were all gathered in the breakroom, comparing notes and discovering that none of them had succeeded. There was a certain camaraderie in their shared failure.

After a round of jokes, someone’s gaze landed on me.

“If I remember correctly, Abby’s the only one who hasn’t thrown herself at Mr. Kingsley. What’s the matter? Not your type?”

Marcus Kingsley had a face that could start a war. He was lean in a suit, but you just knew he was hiding a body that was pure muscle. Who wouldn't be tempted? Besides, with everyone else so obviously trying, saying I wasn’t interested would just make me sound arrogant.

That’s a major workplace sin. So, I quickly defended myself.

“No way! I threw myself at him long before you all did. He just wasn’t catching.”

“When?” The entire room was suddenly buzzing with gossip.

I pretended to think hard. “The day he started. My heel got stuck in the elevator gap, and I stumbled right into his arms. Total coincidence.”

It was a true story. He had steadied me by the waist, a small smile playing on his lips as he’d murmured, “Careful.”

“Pfft, that was an accident,” they all laughed.

I laughed along with them, deciding to come clean. “Look, a handsome face is nice, but I’m a woman who loves her money. I’m on a mission to save two million dollars so I can quit the rat race and retire to my quiet hometown. Men are nowhere near as important as cash.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, the glass door to the breakroom slid open. Marcus Kingsley stood there, phone in hand.

I had no idea how long he’d been listening.

“Abby,” he said, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Pack your bags. We’re going on a business trip. Here’s your chance to make some money.”

Me: …

Everyone else scattered like startled birds.