Chased by My Ex-Boss

"Marry me," the billionaire who just replaced me with a shiny new intern demanded, chasing me down hours after I handed in my resignation.

I give him a perfectly practiced nod. "Understood." Seven years later, he gets himself a shiny new secretary. I hand in my resignation.

The man who only cares about business chases me down. "Marry me." [Me: …] Chapter 1 I have a workaholic billionaire boss. I have shadowed him for seven years.

His absolute favorite catchphrase is: "I only have room for business. I don't do relationships." He always says this with me standing right next to him.

Honestly, it feels like a subtle threat. Like he is reminding me to keep him accountable. So, I gave a calm nod. "Understood, Mr.

Sinclair." Sebastian is always incredibly satisfied with my absolute obedience. He gives a curt hum of approval, then goes right back to aggressively conquering the corporate world.

Then this year's campus recruiting wrapped up. A fresh batch of interns flooded the floors. The executive floor got a new addition. Everyone assumed it was just routine turnover.

Then the vibe shifted. Sebastian started showing an unnatural level of patience and attention toward one specific intern. Daisy White.

It all started at the morning executive briefing. The new intern printed the wrong quarterly projections. It was a remarkably stupid mistake.

Anyone would be justified in tearing her apart. He did not. Sebastian did not even raise his voice at Daisy. Instead, his dark eyes snapped straight to me. "Audrey.

You are always in charge of the briefing packets. You did not double—check her work?" [Me: …] The boardroom went dead silent. A dozen executives exchanged loaded, side—eyed glances.

Was my seven years of flawless loyalty really worth less than a fresh intern's fake tears? Chapter 2 I had no choice. Daisy was my intern.

Technically, her colossal screw—up fell under my jurisdiction. After seven years, I knew his temper perfectly. He was barking up the wrong tree to make a point.

An angry guard dog just needed a little petting to calm down. I lowered my eyes in a display of perfect submission. "My apologies.

I will reprint them right now." Sebastian let out a cold scoff. "Skip it. Everyone look at the projector." Many similar incidents happened after that.

Spilling coffee on acquisition documents. Using the wrong corporate seal. Minor infractions, maybe, but my executive team was elite.

Watching her commit ten fireable offenses in two weeks gave us all a collective allergy to stupidity. The true plot twist?

The man who once fired people for using the wrong font size let every single one slide. The man who fired people for using the wrong font size was suddenly turning a blind eye.

He even dragged our shiny new intern to a high—stakes client dinner. Daisy was fresh out of college. She had zero defensive drinking skills.

Clients pushed alcohol on her, and she ended up vomiting all over the custom leather interior of Sebastian's Maybach.

She apologized the next day, practically shaking. "It is fine," Sebastian had replied. "Just pace yourself next time." No screaming. No termination. Just gentle concern.

Daisy's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. She stumbled out of his office with a beet—red face and scurried back to her cubicle.

My team exchanged deeply disturbed looks. "What is wrong with Mr. Sinclair? He treats the intern like glass, but he breathes down Audie's neck constantly." "Is she a nepo baby?

Some billionaire's secret heiress?" "She has to be. Why else would he take her to that dinner? Audie always handles those." At noon, the breakroom turned into a gossip war room.

They fell silent the second I walked in. A senior analyst pulled me into the corner. "Audie, seriously. What is Daisy's background?

Why is the boss so obsessed with her?" I understood their paranoia. Daisy had been here less than two weeks and racked up ten fireable offenses.

Sebastian tolerating her this long screamed nepotism. Too bad it was completely false. Sebastian and I had interviewed her together. The interview itself was painfully average.

But one specific detail stuck out in my memory. Sebastian had frozen the second he saw her headshot on the resume. Then he slowly lifted his gaze and stared right at me.

It was an entirely unreadable, heavy look. He never explained it. I never asked. To this day, that strange silence lingered.

With the secret billionaire heiress theory dead in the water, the rumor mill pivoted. "Wait. Do you think Mr.

Sinclair is actually catching feelings?" The entire breakroom went dead silent. My brain short—circuited. Then, frantic nodding broke out. "Oh my god. Yes.

This is exactly how those toxic romance novels start." [Me: …] The tone in the room shifted from conspiracy to pure judgment. "She is not even pretty.

His standards are in hell." "Hey, you know how billionaires get. He eats Michelin—star meals every day.

Sometimes a guy just wants to try some unseasoned chicken." The analyst nudged my arm. "Right, Audie?" Chapter 3 [Me: …] I gave a couple of dry laughs, offering a helpful suggestion. "I highly recommend keeping this specific theory out of the breakroom." I grabbed my mug and walked out.

The gossip about Sebastian's love life died down, only to instantly pivot to me as I left. "Audie is gorgeous. Why doesn't Mr. Sinclair just date her?" "Who knows?

If he was into her, it would have happened years ago." [Me: …] I shook my head, exhaling a long breath.

The second I sat down at my desk, my screen lit up with a message from the boss. ["My office. Now."] I pushed his heavy oak door open. The main office was empty.

The rustle of clothing came from his private adjoining suite. "Mr. Sinclair?" "Get in here and pick a tie." [Me: …] I walked toward the open doorway.

Sebastian was halfway through changing. His fingers deftly worked the buttons of a crisp white dress shirt.

The expensive, lightweight cotton clung to him, hinting at the hard, rigid lines of his chest and abdomen beneath. "Heading out?" I asked. "Yeah.

Drinks with Matt and the guys." Matthew Preston was a major client, but more importantly, he was Sebastian's childhood best friend.

Last month, Sebastian had brought me along as his plus—one to Matt's wedding.

There had been a slight incident. "When are we hearing your wedding bells, Sebastian?" the bride teased, raising her glass.

The entire room knew my boss was violently allergic to romance. The joke crashed into a dead, suffocating silence. Sebastian just gave me a long, unreadable look.

He lazily clinked his glass against the bride's. "We will see." I knew exactly what that look meant. It was my cue to run interference.

I smoothly pulled out the thick, embossed envelope holding the company's generous wedding check. I handed it over with a practiced corporate smile. "On behalf of Mr.

Sinclair and the firm, wishing you both a lifetime of happiness." It was perfectly professional. Flawless execution. Except the atmosphere instantly plummeted to sub—zero.

Our entire circle of guests froze. Sebastian's eyes suddenly darkened for a few seconds.

Matt quickly threw an arm over Sebastian's shoulder, dragging him toward the bar. "Don't be mad, man," Matt muttered as they walked away. "She doesn't know." [Me: …] I stood there, utterly lost.

The bride gave me a sympathetic, tight—lipped smile. "Seb already gave Matt his personal wedding gift last night." [Me: …] Usually, I handled the corporate gifting for these events.

But Sebastian and Matt were practically brothers. By handing them a formal company check, I had treated a deeply personal milestone like a sterile business transaction.

I froze, realizing I had just committed a massive social blunder. But what confused me even more was the underlying implication.

If I was not there as his executive assistant handling corporate affairs, why did he bring me? I did not let myself dwell on it.

Spring recruiting was in full swing, and I was drowning in resumes. The memory got buried. Hearing Matt's name now yanked it right back to the surface. "Right." I murmured.

The lingering embarrassment made my chest tight. I kept my face blank, stepping into the massive walk—in closet to pull a dark silk tie from the rack. "Head down," I ordered softly.

Sebastian was a full head taller than me. In the early days, I used to balance on my tiptoes to knot his ties.

That stopped after I lost my footing once and crashed directly into his solid chest. Ever since that day, he always lowered his head for me. Sebastian did not flinch at the command.

Neither did I. Everyone in the building knew I was his personal assistant. They just did not realize how literal the word "personal" could get. Sebastian lowered his head.

The physical distance between us vanished.

The air instantly thickened, heavy with his body heat, his quiet breaths brushing rhythmically against my forehead as I reached for his collar.

Would he maintain his sterile corporate lines tonight, or completely shatter the rules?

Chapter 4 My fingers were still resting on the cool silk of his tie when his arm slid around my waist. He pulled me flush against him.

The heavy, solid wall of his chest met mine. "Are you free tonight?" His voice dropped an octave, a low rumble that vibrated right through my ribs. My eye twitched.

The sudden loss of negative space swallowed all the oxygen in the room. "You are having drinks with Matt." I said. "I can come back early." Seven years of working together.

A flawless professional facade masking a very different reality. The breakroom gossips had actually nailed it today. We were sleeping together.

But it was not some grand, sweeping romance. It was just a mutually beneficial collision of two high—functioning adults with needs. More importantly, I knew the rules.

I was capable, discreet, and refreshingly devoid of clinginess. Sebastian kept me close because I insulated him from the messy complications of the real world.

Between the sheets, our chemistry was a volatile, perfect match. The second we stepped out of bed, the boundary slammed back into place. Boss and subordinate.

Cold, hard corporate lines. He had never crossed the streams before. Bringing this up inside the four walls of the office was entirely off—script.

I kept my face perfectly blank. "Mr. Sinclair." I let the formal title hang in the air like a sheet of ice. "We are on the clock." Sebastian stared down at me for a long second.

He let his arm drop. I smoothed the knot of his tie, restoring the professional distance between us before answering his question. "And I am afraid tonight is out.

I have a video call scheduled with my mother." Sebastian gave a noncommittal hum. He did not push it. I walked out of his private suite.

The main floor was empty, save for one person. "Audie." Daisy White. She looked exactly like her name suggested. Delicate, wide—eyed, and aggressively innocent.

Her gaze held that untouched, naive clarity of someone who had never been chewed up and spit out by the corporate machine. Youth really was a weapon.

No wonder Sebastian kept giving her a pass. I gave her a single, sterile nod. Daisy slid a manila folder across my desk. "Could you double—check my spreadsheets?

I am so terrified of messing up again." Everyone loved an eager—to—learn intern. I took the file and scanned the columns.

I barely got past the second row before she spoke again. "Audie, you have been here a really long time, right?" "Six or seven years," I murmured, my eyes still locked on the numbers.

Back when the entire company could fit in a single elevator.

Daisy let out an exaggerated gasp of awe. "So…" Her voice dropped a pitch, softening into something probing. "You must know Mr.

Sinclair really well, then?" The question was dripping with subtext. I slowly lifted my head and met her eyes with a flat, entirely unamused look.

Her face instantly flushed scarlet. She started backpedaling frantically. "I just… my probation period is almost up. I am so clumsy, I was just worrying that Mr.

Sinclair might not let me pass." I let a perfectly calibrated HR smile stretch across my face. "The company has strict, standardized metrics for probation evaluations. Mr.

Sinclair does not concern himself with entry—level reviews." "Oh… right." She ducked her head, properly chastised. I slid the folder back to her. "The numbers are fine.

CC the executive team when you send it." She murmured a quiet thank you and scurried away. I dismissed the interaction entirely.

Over the next few days, Daisy finally found her footing. The catastrophic errors stopped. She was young, she was painfully sweet, and she asked questions constantly.

The hostility in the executive suite slowly morphed into grudging approval. Then came the quarterly strategy pitch. Daisy presented a full analytical breakdown.

She stood in the center of the boardroom, speaking with a sudden, radiant confidence that caught everyone off guard. Even Sebastian's gaze lingered on her for several long beats.

When the presentation ended, he actually spoke. "Not bad." Sebastian Sinclair was a notoriously ruthless perfectionist. Coming from him, "not bad" was basically a standing ovation.

Chapter 5 Daisy flushed a vibrant, thrilled shade of pink. She practically vibrated with earnest gratitude, nodding frantically. "Thank you so much, Mr.

Sinclair." Sebastian simply lowered his gaze. He walked straight back to his office without sparing her another second.

The moment his heavy oak door clicked shut, the executive suite swarmed Daisy. "Wow, who knew you had that in you?" "Seriously impressive.

You adapted so fast." Daisy soaked up the praise, her cheeks still glowing. "I really owe it all to you guys for guiding me.

I was so terrified I would fail my probation." "Oh, please. The boss just gave you his personal seal of approval. Your job is entirely safe." Daisy beamed, nodding enthusiastically.

To celebrate, she offered to do a coffee run for the whole floor. "Audie, what can I get you?" She came to my side, phone in hand, her eyes sparkling.

I met her gaze and offered a faint, perfectly polite smile. "I will pass. Mr. Sinclair needs me inside.

Get whatever you guys want." Daisy blinked, her smile faltering for a fraction of a second. There was no actual emergency.

When I slipped inside the private office, Sebastian had just finished signing a stack of acquisitions. He was clearly exhausted.

He leaned back in his leather chair, eyes closed, gently pinching the bridge of his nose. I called his name softly. He raised a hand and motioned me over.

The second I stepped within reach, his large hand wrapped lightly around my wrist. "Massage." I froze for a split second before understanding the unspoken demand.

I stepped behind his chair and placed my fingertips gently against his temples. "Like this?" "Yeah." His voice was a low, gravelly vibration that seemed to settle right at the base of my spine.

I kept quiet, letting the steady pressure of my fingers work the heavy tension out of his muscles. The only sound in the room was his deep, rhythmic breathing.

Then, he shattered the quiet. "Tell the new intern not to come in on Monday." [Me: …] My fingers stalled entirely against his skin.

The directive came out of nowhere, completely devoid of warning.

Less than twenty minutes ago, he had openly validated the girl in front of the entire boardroom. "Why?" I asked, my voice carefully neutral. "You literally just praised her." "Her work is fine, but her motives are trash.

Her whole helpless damsel routine is painfully amateur." [Me: …] The decision was shocking, but honestly, I was not completely surprised.

Sebastian and I had interviewed Daisy together. She was an Ivy League graduate. Her resume was a flawless, highly competitive piece of paper.

It made zero logical sense for someone with her elite pedigree to constantly make such catastrophic, idiotic errors at a new job.

And they were always the kind of obnoxious little mistakes that forced a personal interaction.

Looking back at her sudden burst of corporate brilliance today, the pieces finally clicked. It was all weaponized incompetence. A calculated play for male attention.

I just never expected Sebastian to see right through it.

Or rather, I assumed if he did see it, he was simply playing along. "How did you figure it out?" I asked, steering the conversation back.

Sebastian let out a low, rough exhale of amusement. "Do not forget I built you from the ground up.

You think I cannot spot a rookie playing a game?" "I was never like that back then, was I?" "No.

You were just genuinely incompetent." [Me: …] I really did not have much experience when I first became his executive assistant.

Every single mistake Daisy purposely made, I had actually committed in my early days.

I vividly remembered printing the wrong financial projections right before a massive client pitch. The meeting was minutes away.

Instead of tearing me apart, Sebastian stood in front of the clients and flawlessly presented the previous quarter's slides from memory, buying me the exact window I needed to sprint downstairs and reprint the decks.

Those clients dictated the entire trajectory of our fiscal year. I was shaking so hard my teeth actually rattled. Cold sweat soaked through my blouse, layer after agonizing layer.

Even after the meeting ended, I was practically vibrating with sheer, unfiltered panic. It was Sebastian who anchored me. He did not scream. He did not reprimand me.

He just looked at me, his presence a heavy, grounding weight in the room. He told me that panic was a useless emotion, and that guilt would not solve the problem.

He was the solid ground I needed when everything else was spinning. He really was the only reason I had survived and climbed this high in the corporate food chain.

Chapter 6 Surviving on this bloodless corporate battlefield for so long naturally changes a person.

Looking back at the brutal early days inevitably brought a wave of quiet nostalgia. Sebastian must have been thinking the exact same thing. "Audrey.

She is trying to mimic you, but she will never be you." "You are entirely too kind, Mr. Sinclair." I lowered my eyes in a display of practiced modesty.

Sebastian let out a low, rough laugh. His hand shot out, catching my wrist.

He dragged me from behind his chair, pulling me straight around the heavy mahogany desk and right between his knees. He was in a remarkably good mood.

His gaze dragged over me, a slow, heavy sweep from my brow to the corner of my lips, dissecting every inch.

Then, his large hand clamped the back of my neck, and he pulled my mouth down to his. The sudden, heavy friction of his lips was a complete violation of his own rules.

The old Sebastian kept a lethal, impenetrable wall between business and pleasure, no matter the stakes. But lately, the lines were blurring.

He kept dragging his private, predatory self right into the middle of the workday.

Just like he was doing right now. "Audrey," he murmured against my mouth. "Are we fucking tonight?" I gasped. My pulse hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

I stared down at him, trapped in the physical gravity of his proximity.

His eyes were pitch—black obsidian, swirling with naked, unfiltered intent. "I…" The words never made it out of my throat. The heavy office door swung open without a single knock