Amante.
Marian Valenzuela.
I don’t know what’s going on with my boss lately. He’s been acting so strange, and honestly, I’m running out of excuses to cover for him.
“Miss Valenzuela, I’m heading out. Don’t forward any calls to me, and cancel everything for the afternoon.”
“Yes, sir, but Mr. Ballakit keeps insisting on meeting with you.”
“Schedule him for Monday morning, first thing, please.”
“Yes, sir... Before you go, could you sign this? I need to send it to HR. It’s Mrs. Meneses’ retirement paperwork.” He steps closer and signs it. Discreetly, I inhale the scent of his cologne. It’s the only thing I like about him.
The man is attractive, I’ll give him that. Green eyes, a well-groomed beard, a jawline to die for, and a face and body straight out of a Calvin Klein ad. He’s every woman’s dream—except mine, of course. To be clear, I’ve never seen him without clothes on, but his tailored suits fit him so well, they leave little to the imagination.
“Is that all?” He looks at me, making me feel small.
“Yes, Mr. Russo.”
“See you Monday.” I nod and turn my attention back to the computer screen.
The phone rings again. I’ve still got two hours left in this cage. It’s not that I don’t love my job—I do—but sometimes I just need to escape, especially when someone’s harassing you.
“Good morning, Russo Industries.”
“Good morning, miss. It’s me again. Did you pass my message to Mr. Russo?”
“Yes, sir. He’ll meet with you Monday morning, first thing.”
“Without fail, right? It’s very important that we meet.”
“Yes, Mr. Ballakit. Have a great afternoon.”
“You too, Miss Valenzuela.”
I grab the folder and head down to HR.
“Good morning, Alicia. I’ve got Mrs. Meneses’ application here.”
“I’ll input it into the system first thing Monday.”
“Sounds good. See you later.” I head back to the office to finish my work and tidy up Mr. Russo’s desk.
At two o’clock sharp, I leave the office, hop into a cab, and give the driver my address.
When I get home, I take a shower. Once I’m dressed, I start cleaning up and picking up the mess around the house. I’ve got an eighteen-year-old brother who’s a total disaster when it comes to tidiness and order.
“Marian, where are you?”
“In the laundry room, where else?”
“Perfect, ‘cause I brought my uniform, and it’s dirty.”
“Oh, how nice of you. Let your sister clean and wash everything.”
“I’ll do anything but clean and organize.” I walk over to him, give him a playful smack on the head, and then a kiss.
“How’d it go today?”
“Good. We’re ready.” My brother’s a soccer player on the team at his high school, and he might soon get a scholarship to study and play, which is his passion.
“I’m gonna rest. I’ve got a night shift tonight.”
“I’ve told you to quit that job and focus on your studies.”
“I can’t leave all the burden on you. What if your boss decides to fire you?”
“I don’t think so. I’ve been working for him for five years.”
“Yeah, but maybe he’ll find a prettier assistant, and not only that, turn her into his mistress since you’ve turned him down.”
“Ha, he’s not like that. He’s very respectful with his employees.”
“Whatever you say.” I head back to the laundry room.
My brother and I are on our own in this world. Our mom passed away four years ago, and our dad—well, after Mom found out he had another family, she left him. I was only four at the time, and my brother was still in the womb. I haven’t seen Dad since the split. That’s why I’m so cautious about not getting involved with a married man.
That night, after saying goodbye to my brother, I go to my room, dress up in something sexy, and put on some makeup.
I need to clear my head from the daily grind of work, and on top of that, I’ve got to forget the jerk I was foolishly in love with. Turns out, the idiot is married and led me to believe he was single for three months. I found out yesterday afternoon, and tonight, I’m letting myself vent my frustration.
Every time I think about it, I feel like tracking him down and hitting him where it hurts the most.
I get into a cab and ask the driver to take me to any bar. Half an hour later, the car stops.
“Are we here?” I ask, carefully scanning the place.
“Yes, miss. This is a quiet bar where you can have a nice evening.”
“Thanks a lot.” I walk into the place and order a mojito. After that mojito, more drinks followed, though I’ve forgotten their names.
Suddenly, a very masculine-looking man approaches me, asking if I’m waiting for someone. Politely, I tell him I’m not. He asks to sit down, and of course, I say he can. At this point, I don’t even know where I’m standing.
Hours later, he suggests we leave—or maybe it was to dance, I’m not sure. I go with him to who-knows-where. Something starts moving, and then we get out.
I hear him talking, though I don’t know with whom. After that, all I feel are his lips on my skin. Minutes or seconds later, I feel something soft beneath me, and finally, I’m moaning under his body, and at times, on top of him.
The night was intense, and not just that—I discovered a side of myself I didn’t know existed. The drunkenness faded, giving way to unbridled desire and a lust I didn’t even know I had. The more I was with this man, the more I wanted him. I also wanted to prove I could be better in bed than any other woman. I didn’t hold back.
After one last encounter, I collapsed into a deep sleep...
I woke up feeling something shift beside me, and not only that, I was wrapped in strong, masculine arms. I doubt Lucas has arms like the ones holding me.
“Good morning, stranger,” a deep, manly voice says. My brow furrows at the sound, but come on, he’s probably not the only one with such a vibrant tone.
I turn to respond.
“Good morn—”
My words die in my throat when I see the man in front of me. Is it really him, or am I dreaming?
We stare at each other, frozen. My heart feels like it stops as I see him in the same bed as me. We blink in disbelief; maybe I’m imagining this.
A silence settles between us. It seems he can’t believe what’s happening either.
“Oh my God, I slept with my boss,” I want to scream, but I can’t.
“You! You!”
«—«—«—«—«—»
Carlos Russo.
“I want to make you mine.”
“I want to be yours.” I lift her by the legs and carry her to the bed, finish taking off her clothes, kiss her chest, part her legs, and enter her slowly...
I make her mine like I’ve never done with anyone before. I mean that because, after our first encounter, the drunken haze lifted a little.
I wanted to make her feel special, and above all, to ensure she’d remember this night forever. Even though we were strangers, she’d remember me, and I think I’d remember her too. It was the best sex of my life. I felt like I was the only one for her.
The early morning found us worshiping each other’s bodies, and finally, we collapsed, exhausted and satisfied from the pleasure we’d given each other.
I wrapped her in my arms, and she didn’t object, resting her head on my chest.
The Next Day.
I shifted a little, blinking to adjust to the sunlight streaming through the curtains. I looked around the room, feeling confused, until I remembered what had happened.
“I’ve had the best sex of my life,” I thought to myself.
I glanced at the blonde hair resting on my chest. She stirred slightly.
“Good morning, stranger,” I said. She turned her head toward me.
“Good morn—”
She looks at me, and her face goes pale. I think I’ve lost all color in mine too.
“You! You!” we both say at the same time.
“I didn’t... this can’t be—” she says, getting out of bed, completely naked. I look her up and down; she’s covered in marks from me. “Don’t look at me like that, Mr. Russo,” she says, covering herself with the sheet.
“I’m sorry, Marian. I didn’t think I had...”
I run my hands over my face. Maybe I’m dreaming, or did I really sleep with my assistant? “Oh my God, I slept with my assistant.” If anyone finds out, I’m done for—and I mean because of my divorce, not her.
“This has to be a dream,” she mutters.
“If it is, then we’re having the same dream,” I say, getting up and covering myself with a pillow. “No one has to know about this.”
“It’s not like I’m going to broadcast it. I’m not stupid. I don’t want anyone to know I slept with my... with you. Oh God, you’re married! Oh no, your wife, I—”
“Don’t talk to me about that cheater,” I snap. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you.” She sits on the bed.
“This can’t be happening to me. Not to me. I didn’t want to get involved with a married man, and now I’ve ended up with one,” she sighs.
“So it’s true,” I say. I might’ve been pretty drunk, but I remember every word she told me.
“What’s true?”
“That the guy was married and asked you to be his mistress?”
“That doesn’t matter. What matters right now is what’s happening here and now.” I’m surprised by the way she’s talking to me. She’s never spoken to me like this before.
But it’s understandable. Right now, I’m not her boss.
“My mom must be rolling in her grave, along with my grandma,” I sigh.
“What are we going to do?” I ask.
“I’m not going to be your mistress, just so you know right now.”
“I don’t want you to be, Marian. You’re my assistant... MY ASSISTANT.”
“Yeah, and you’re my boss. Oh my God, I’m going to have a mental breakdown,” she says, getting up and pacing around the room.
“Stop, just let me think,” I say, watching her. “You’re exasperating.”
“Yeah, well, you’re an idiot who doesn’t realize—you’re my boss! How could I sleep with you?”
“We weren’t a hundred percent aware of what we were doing,” I say, trying to calm her down.
“Yeah, but I still slept with you. Tell me, how am I supposed to look at you in the office...?”