Accidental Smut: My Billionaire Boss Went Feral

I used a scorching hot manuscript packed with hardcore erotic fantasies as my resignation letter, firing it off through the internal company email to my coldblooded, billionaire boss.

Like a girl with a total death wish, I bombarded his work messenger, demanding to know why he left me on read.

He replied a second later, "Is that as fast as you can go?" Right after that, this notorious Wall Street workaholic tyrant blasted a mass email to the entire company.

He ordered everyone to take an immediate threeday paid vacation. Now, I forced myself to march straight into his office, desperate to recall that damn file.

He slowly closed the folder in his hands. His prominent knuckles stood out against the paper.

The tailored Armani suit perfectly hugged his impossibly broad shoulders, radiating a heavy, suffocating predator energy.

He lifted his dark eyes and locked his gaze on me. "Are you really that impatient?" Chapter 1 Right now, the entire floor was losing its mind.

All because Roman, the CEO we privately dubbed the coldblooded machine, dropped a message in the Slack channel: [Everyone unplug your ethernet cables and clock out immediately.

Three days of paid vacation, full bonuses will still be issued.] "Has the boss lost his damn mind?" Zoe, the coworker sitting in the next cubicle over, furiously refreshed her phone screen again and again.

I clutched my phone, staring blankly at the chaos around me. Then what the hell did the vacation I just bought with my resignation letter count for?

Was this just my rotten luck? "Word on Wall Street is that our company is about to face a hostile takeover.

Is the CEO using this vacation to test the waters before launching brutal mass layoffs?" "It's definitely the calm before the layoff storm!" "Exactly!

When I went to drop off a proposal at his office earlier today, I heard him literally talking about downsizing. It's a done deal!" … My stomach plummeted to the floor.

If I was one of the people on the chopping block, I could easily walk away with a fat severance package worth a full six months' salary!

Was it too late to unsend my resignation letter? Whether it was too late or not, my feet had already carried me straight into Roman's office.

I had to admit, Roman was obscenely gorgeous. Those impossibly broad Pacificocean shoulders. That feral, invertedtriangle Vline.

And that tight, perky ass hidden beneath those obscenely expensive suit pants… Even though it was currently blocked by his mahogany desk today, based on my secret observations while sipping coffee in the breakroom, grabbing a handful of that would feel absolutely incredible. "Ahem." A sharp throatclearing snapped me back to reality. "Did you need something?" Roman didn't even bother lifting his eyes to look at me, his long fingers slowly turning the pages of the file in his hands.

I plastered on my most flattering smile. "Boss, did you happen to read the letter I submitted today…" "I read it." The icecold words slipped effortlessly from his perfect lips.

Panic spiked in my chest, but I forced it down. "Even if you read it, it doesn't change anything, Boss.

Actually, I just wanted to…" "Wanted to what?" He snapped the folder shut and pushed up the goldrimmed glasses he had slipped on at some point. His response was lightningfast.

To recall the damn resignation letter, obviously. So you could lay me off, and I could tragically walk away with a massive pile of severance cash!

Or what, was I supposed to tell you to your face that every single day I fantasize about how the eightpack abs straining beneath your tight white shirt must feel just like hard marble, and how incredibly hot your ass looks sitting in that genuine leather executive chair?

How ridiculous. "Didn't I say I would think about it?" Roman finally lifted those eyes—as deep and freezing as a winter lake—to look at me.

He stared at me like I was prey that had just stumbled into his trap, his gaze loaded with dark meaning. "Are you really that impatient?" "I am!" the words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them.

I took a step forward, closing the distance between us.

Locking eyes with him, I layered on the utmost sincerity. "Boss, I am seriously desperate." Roman froze, an aggressively sexy flush creeping up the tips of his normally icecold ears. "Hmm.

Noted. I'll give it some more thought." I softened my voice, dropping the pitch. "Boss, there's no need to think about it." From this close, I watched his Adam's apple bob sharply.

God, that was so fucking hot. "Why not?" The upward lilt in his voice dragged my scattered, hormonefueled thoughts back to the present. "I've decided to retract it.

I was just messing around when I wrote it, and I sent it to you by accident. I never actually intended to do it." His dark brows crashed together. Just look at him.

He dragged his feet on approving it for so long, and even when I chased him all the way into his office, he still claimed he needed to 'think about it.' Now that I said I was recalling the letter, the heavy tension radiating off him vanished.

If that wasn't him secretly refusing to let me go, what was? But it was a damn shame.

Sure, working under him was practically a breeze, the company perks were insane, and he was dropdead, illegally gorgeous—which was the main point. But!

It was my own fault for being useless. [Lately, staying up all night writing web novels has taken a massive toll on my health, and my body just can't handle it anymore.

Plus, the royalties I'm earning now are more than enough to support myself.

So I genuinely just wanted to resign and go home to rest for a while.] Chapter 2 "Why the sudden regret?" Roman's face was an unreadable mask, his voice all hard angles and authority. "I usually let the office antics slide, and I can take a joke.

But when it comes to actual business…" He let the silence stretch for a second. "Shouldn't you think things through first, and then actually commit to seeing them to the end?" I could literally hear the drop in his volume.

He was pulling his punches, probably worried about scaring me off. God, what a gorgeous, benevolent dictator.

I layered on the puppydog sincerity. "I know, but honestly… I just couldn't bear the thought of leaving you." His long fingers twitched sharply against the mahogany desk.

I quickly kept going. "And everyone else, obviously.

Like Ezra the intern who always saves me a skim oat milk latte in the breakroom, Caleb from IT who's constantly bringing donuts for the girls, and Troy from sales who's always flexing his biceps by the copier… I'd miss every single one of them way too much." Roman narrowed his dark eyes, turning them into dangerous slits. "You certainly keep a lot of men on your radar.

Do you like every single one of them?" Well, not entirely. When it comes to pure, unadulterated sex appeal, you still hold absolute dominance, Boss.

After all, if you lined up every single man in Manhattan, not a single one of them would have an ass as perky and mesmerizing as yours.

I met his gaze deadon. "There are women on that list, too.

I'm just a people person." A dark scoff ripped from his throat. "I fail to see what any of those people have to do with the… file you sent me.

But from what I'm gathering, you just have far too many options on the table, so you need more time to weigh them.

Is that it?" "Exactly." I nodded solemnly. "A girl can't just tie herself down to one single tree. But obviously, I'm not ready to give up on this particular tree just yet either.

So, I definitely need a little more time to think it over." Roman didn't say a word, but his sharp jawline locked tight.

His long fingers curled into a brutal fist, the restrained veins on the back of his hand pulsing visibly against his skin. Damn, I really must have struck a nerve.

Being the CEO of a massive corporation with hundreds of employees relying on him probably sucked sometimes. He couldn't just cut and run whenever he felt like it, the way I could.

I guess even filthy rich billionaires had their tragic flaws. "You seem perfectly fine with leaving me behind.

Every word out of your mouth is aimed right at the jugular." Roman ripped the goldrimmed glasses off his face. In a flash, he was back to being the untouchable, icecold tyrant.

He pointed a rigid finger toward the door. "Get out." "So…" "I know you don't actually want to resign anymore.

I won't waste my time thinking about it." Trying to read this man's mood swings was like trying to predict a hurricane. Absolutely impossible.

By the time I finally stepped out of his office, the entire floor was a ghost town.

I pulled out my phone, and a notification from the company Slack channel popped up. [Big Booty Boss: Clock out immediately. There is no emergency.

Anyone caught working overtime will have their threeday vacation revoked.] Underneath it was an avalanche of "Understood!" and shameless corporate brownnosing.

The timestamp showed he had fired off that message the exact second I walked into his office. The tone was aggressive, practically shoving people out the door.

It matched the exact same energy he just used to kick me out. I let out a low whistle.

I definitely wasn't narcissistic enough to believe that my little accidental resignation letter triggered a massive companywide holiday. And that "no emergency" line?

Complete bullshit. He was rushing everyone out of the building so he could sit in total silence and draft up his brutal layoff list.

On top of that, I had direct messages from Zoe: [Some absolute psycho tripped over my power cord rushing out of here.

I'm literally going to murder someone.] [I'm hijacking your computer to transfer a file real quick.

Don't be mad!] I shot back a couple of dramatic emojis to let her know I had survived the lion's den. I also slipped in some heavy trash talk about Roman's terrible attitude.

I locked my phone and started lazily packing my bag. My brain was working in overdrive. Step one to securing that massive severance package: unsending my resignation letter. Check.

Step two: figuring out how to get the boss to fire me. Since my monitor was still glowing, I fired up Google and typed: "How to get your billionaire boss to completely…" Crash.

The heavy office blinds snapped open with a sharp clatter. I looked up, locking eyes with a face darker than thunder.

Chapter 3 "Hazel, you've projected your entire computer screen directly onto the 100inch monitor in my office." Shit!

I sprinted all the way home, mentally murdering Zoe a hundred times over. "Zoe, you're literally trying to get me killed!

Why the hell did you use my computer to request a screenshare with the CEO's desktop?!

I practically tattooed the words 'Lay Me Off' right onto his forehead!" Zoe begged for mercy over the phone. "It wasn't me!

I deliberately left your computer on because I was scared you had unsaved files. Somebody must have bumped the keyboard!" I guess that was possible.

I booted up my document at lightspeed. Inside was the web novel I'd been writing while slacking off at work. Thank God, it was still there.

I lined up my snacks and energy drinks, fully prepped for battle. I planned to pull an allnighter, firing on all cylinders to write those adrenalinepumping NC17 smut chapters.

As for figuring out how to get fired and secure that fat severance package, I'd brainstorm that later. Getting people to like you was hard, but making them hate you?

That was a piece of cake. By midnight, a freezing draft started howling through my window. After sneezing a dozen times in a row, my nose started running like a faucet. Great.

Another cold. I tore through the Kleenex box tissue by tissue until my trash can was practically overflowing.

Fighting off exhaustion, I dragged my cursor to hit send on the message and file attachment. [I went feral tonight. My whole body aches, and I think I've caught a cold.

Send comfort.] My editor and I were tight, so I always talked to her like this. I stared at the screen, waiting for the file to go through. But… Delivery failed.

Forcing my heavy eyelids open, I fired off another message to my editor: [Is my little Baby across the country still throwing a tantrum?] It was a long story.

A while back, Zara received a psycho hate mail in the middle of the night, which pissed her off so much she stayed up crying to me until dawn.

Since then, she made the cowardly, yet understandable, decision to lock down her inbox after midnight.

I'd probably dragged out this deadline for so long that she forgot today was submission day and didn't whitelist me.

Yawning so hard my jaw cracked, I groggily dragged and dropped the new manuscript directly into our chat box. I tossed in a quick comforting text: [Stop being mad.

I've got something delicious for you to read.] The second I hit send, my head crashed onto the pillow, and I passed out.

I missed the frantic barrage of messages exploding into the chat, only to be unsent one by one.

The sun was blazing high in the sky by the time I finally peeled my eyes open the next day. I didn't expect the cold to hit me this hard.

Zoe sent a text saying the whole department was doing a spontaneous brunch. I turned her down. [Pulled an allnighter.

My back is killing me, my body aches, and I've got a cold.] The company girls' group chat exploded with gossip: [We haven't even been on vacation for 24 hours, and you're already going at it this hard?

Step up to the podium and confess your sins!] [Bros before hoes!] [Damn, is he really that wild? Hook a girl up with his friends!] … I rubbed my temples, letting out a bitter laugh.

I never should have recommended my smut reading list to these women. Their brains were polluted with hardcore, unpublishable fantasies. My phone dinged twice in rapid succession.

Roman actually sent me a message. [You're sick? Did you take any medicine?] [You need to prioritize resting.] Muscle memory had my thumb hovering over the chat to reply.

But then it hit me: I was actively trying to get this man to fire me. I needed to become his worst nightmare.

So, I deliberately left him on read and flipped over to the girls' chat. I tapped the voice memo button and joked in a raspy voice, "Damn right.

My stamina is so good I could keep going hot and heavy with a man all night long." The second the message sent, those thirsty heathens unleashed chaos.

The group chat turned into an Rrated warzone that would require a censor bleep over every single sentence.

I scrolled through the filth line by line, laughing so hard I was literally thrashing around in my bed.

Once I finally stopped wheezing, I clicked back into Roman's chat window: [Yes to sick. Yes to meds.] Delivery failed. Chapter 4 He actually blocked me.

I shot up in bed, the sheets tangling around my legs. Who the hell pissed him off this time? My chaotic brain scrambled to connect the dots.

I fired off a text to Zoe: [Is Roman at brunch with you guys?] [Zoe: Yeah. He actually just asked if you were coming.

I told him you were so sick you couldn't even get out of bed.] I stared at the screen, speechless. [Me: What a coldblooded bastard.

I'm practically on my deathbed and he still blocks my number.] [Zoe: Oh shit. Do you think it's because of that voice memo from earlier?

Maybe he thinks we're teaming up to lie to him.] [Me: ?] [Zoe: The one where you said your stamina was good enough to go hot and heavy with a man all night… I forgot to mute my phone and accidentally played it out loud.

On speaker.] [Me: …] I wanted to cry, but no tears would come. But hey, every cloud has a silver lining. I had definitely become his worst nightmare now.

In for a penny, in for a pound. Since I was already blocked, I might as well double down and go straight for the jugular.

I typed furiously into the chat: "A coldblooded, ruthless Wall Street vampire capitalist like you is destined to die alone." Message sent. Delivered.

Wait, when the hell did he unblock me? My heart dropped into my stomach. I frantically typed out damage control: "But you're different, Boss!

You have so much humanitarian empathy." At the top of the chat window, the Roman is typing… bubble hovered endlessly.

After an excruciating wait, his reply finally popped up. [Roman: Let him take good care of you. There is no need to flatter me.

After all, we have no personal relationship.] What the hell? I paused, processing his words. He had just severed our professional CEOemployee relationship.

Was my mastermind layoff plan actually working? Right on cue, another text chimed. [Roman: Since you are sick, get some proper rest.

Let him take care of you.] [Roman: I will not message you again.] Him? I frowned at the screen for a second before probing cautiously. "Who is 'him'?

There's no one in my apartment right now." Suddenly, my phone buzzed with an incoming call. It was Roman.

I answered, hearing the loud rush of wind against the microphone, like he was walking incredibly fast. The background noise finally died down slightly.

His voice was dead serious. "Hazel, what exactly do you mean by that?" The sheer intensity of his tone scared me into sitting up perfectly straight. "What do I mean by what?" "You said there's no one in your apartment right now.

What does right now imply?

And what about last night?" The man's voice dropped dangerously low, laced with a barely imperceptible huskiness and a dark, dangerous possessiveness. "There wasn't anyone here last night either, obviously." I said.

Dead silence stretched over the line. My brain furiously rewound the last twentyfour hours. Going hot and heavy all night long… Oh my god.

I realized how bad this looked and scrambled to defend myself. "I was literally just talking out of my ass!

We're all adults, it was just a dirty joke…" I stammered, gripping the phone tighter. "We've known each other for years, Boss.

You know I'm not actually that wild…" "I wouldn't be so sure about that," Roman countered.

A heavy sigh crackled through the receiver, mixing with the dense hum of static. "You have to believe me," I pleaded. The line went dead quiet again.

Defending my sex life to my billionaire boss was undeniably bizarre.

I was just about to hang up and abort this excruciatingly awkward mission when his low voice drifted through the speaker. "Should I come over?" A sharp jolt of electricity shot up from the soles of my feet, zipping straight up my spine.

It was an incredibly strange sensation. A deep, restless itch. Chapter 5 "No one last night, no one right now. So I suppose I'm cleared to come over.

If it's inconvenient, I can forget it…" Honestly, even if there was someone here, he'd probably still show up.

My palms started to sweat against the back of my phone case. "Well?" Roman's low hum vibrated through the speaker.

I blinked, my feverish brain shortcircuiting. "Uh… okay." Maybe that humanitarian empathy was actually real.

Roman stayed on the line the entire drive over. "Feeling that miserable?

Why are you so quiet?" I racked my brain for a solid ten seconds before forcing out a response. "Focus on the road. Drive safe." "Talking to you is a priority too." I froze.

A massive, stupid wave of butterflies erupted in my stomach, and my heart started hammering against my ribs.

I yanked the duvet up over my head, irrationally terrified the microphone would pick up the pounding. A comfortable silence settled over the line.

Deep under the covers, my mind started drifting back through the years. I was one of his original hires back when the company was just a startup.

But in all the years I'd known him, he had never once brought a woman around the office. It made zero sense.

He was technically polite, obscenely gorgeous, and built like a Greek god. He should be the ultimate bachelor prize in Manhattan.

So how the hell was he perpetually single? "Roman, do you literally not know how to date?" "Excuse me?" "Never mind.

But seriously, did you never have some epic, romantic college sweetheart phase or something?" "No." "Yeah, right.

I call bullshit." Roman let out a low, breathless laugh. "What exactly are you trying to interrogate me about, Hazel?" "Nothing. Where are you originally from anyway?

Is it far from here?" "Are you running a background check on me? I grew up right here in the city. Not far at all.

Did you want me to take you on a tour?" Wait, were we suddenly on 'hometown tour' terms? I poked my head out of the duvet just in time to let out a massive sneeze.

Sniffling, I retreated back into my fabric cave. "Roman, you're acting incredibly weird today." "Am I?" The light, almost teasing lilt in his voice gave him away.

He was in an incredibly good mood. Which was infuriating, considering ten minutes ago he was texting me like a passiveaggressive psycho.

Trying to read this man was harder than decoding the Matrix. Wrapped up tightly in my suffocatingly warm duvet, the cold medicine finally started kicking in.

A heavy wave of drowsiness washed over me. "How much longer are you going to take? You drive so slow…" I mumbled, my eyelids drooping. "Honestly, just turn around.

I'm too exhausted to even get up and unlock the door." Roman chuckled again, a rich, vibrating sound. "Then I'll step on the gas." My braintomouth filter was officially broken, fried by the fever. "When you texted asking if I took my meds… I actually tried to reply.

But you had already blocked me." I whined against the pillow. "That's why I got so pissed off and attacked you. I swear I'm not normally that unhinged.

Honestly… you're a really good boss…" Drifting in and out of consciousness, my mind dragged me back to several years ago.

Back when the company was just a scrappy startup fighting for survival. Roman had taken a few of us original hires out to a business dinner.

Calling it a "business dinner" was a stretch, honestly. Roman flatout banned the female staff from drinking at these things.

We were strictly there for optics—warm bodies in chairs to make the team look bigger, just so the rival corporate sharks wouldn't look down on us and try to bully a small firm.

Then came the night he finally landed a meeting for a massive, gamechanging contract. The whole team showed up buzzing with adrenaline.

As the lead product evangelist, I stood at the head of the private dining table, pitching my heart out. But the prospective client—some sleazy CEO—looked completely disengaged.

I immediately recognized the toxic corporate power play. He just wanted the young female presenter to bend over backward, stroke his ego, and serve him a drink.

It was disgusting, but I could handle it. I shot Roman a subtle look, telling him to let it play out.

Grabbing a glass of whiskey, I marched up to the client, laying the corporate flattery on thick until the old creep finally cracked a satisfied smirk. But then he pushed his luck.

His heavy hand slid directly onto my waist. Roman lunged forward, yanking me backward to shield me behind his solid frame.

Plastering on a fake, dangerous smile, he stared the CEO down and lied through his teeth. "My apologies, but she's severely allergic to alcohol.

I'll take this round." The client's face visibly darkened into an ugly scowl. The multimillion dollar deal instantly died right there on the table.

Worse, that petty bastard held a massive grudge. He used his industry connections to ruthlessly squeeze us out of the market, trying to bleed us dry.

Right when we were on the verge of total bankruptcy, things got so dark that Roman literally couldn't even afford to make payroll.

Chapter 6 We sat on the curb that night, trapped in a heavy silence. Everyone blamed themselves, but Roman took it the hardest.

I knew he was internally bleeding over the fact that that sleazebag touched me, especially since his intervention tanked the entire deal.

And I fully understood that his guilt was a massive reason why he always fiercely protected me. So I tried to ease his burden. "Normal people get screwed over in this world.

It's just the cost of doing business. I joined the company right out of college.

I was the youngest, most clueless one here, and you took me under your wing." "Roman, if you hadn't been protecting me, I probably would have been chewed up and spit out by this cannibalistic industry a long time ago." We bared our souls that night, holding onto the desperate hope that our luck would eventually turn.

And it did. Look at us now. When it came to corporate perks or PTO, Roman never once shortchanged a single employee.

That was exactly why the layoff rumors terrified the entire floor—but absolutely no one dared to curse his name. He truly owned the title of a phenomenal boss.

How could I not catch feelings for a man like that? But mostly, I was just terrified. He treated everyone with that same intoxicating gentleness.

I was terrified of facing the reality that I wasn't his special exception. A pathetic coward like me only had the guts to be wild in the smut I wrote.

On paper, I could be an absolute degenerate and shamelessly lust after his illegal body. In real life? I didn't dare cross that line.

The aggressive roar of a car shifting gears suddenly blasted through the speaker. Roman was pushing the speed limit. "There's no fire. Drive safe," I reminded him. "Hmm.

Open the door." My doorbell chimed. I dragged myself out of bed and yanked the front door open. The tall, imposing man stood outside my door.

He was just wearing a casual black buttondown, the collar slightly open, but it did nothing to hide his broad, muscular chest, or the tight, feral waist and perky ass wrapped in that expensive fabric.

Roman's dark eyes dragged over my body, the corner of his lips pulling up into a wicked smirk. The air in the hallway thickened, suffocatingly heavy with raw sexual tension.

I stepped back and extended my hand to invite him in. Instead, his hand shot out and gripped my wrist. With a sudden, forceful jerk, he pulled me flush against his hard frame.

A pair of massive, burninghot hands clamped onto my waist. I jerked my gaze up to his.

His other hand slid slowly, deliberately through my messy hair, his long fingers tangling in the strands as he gripped the back of my skull. My heart slammed against my ribs.

What the hell was this plot twist? "Still feeling miserable?" "I'm… surviving." "Why is your skin burning up?" "The bed is really warm… Do you want to try it out?" Oh my god, the fever was frying my brain.

I stammered in panic, "I didn't mean it like that!

You just came in from the freezing cold, so if you need to warm up, you can get in my bed…" Roman let out a dark, vibrating chuckle, raising a single brow at me. "No… I'm not inviting you to sleep with me… Mmph—" His aggressively dominant, burning lips swallowed all my gasps