29/08/2026
Chapter 1: HIS LOVER
The curtains were drawn so tight they might as well have been nailed shut.
Inside the sprawling five-star suite, the air hung thick and stale. Plates and glasses littered the table, their contents congealing in the dimness. Red wine had spilled across the floor, spreading like a dark wound until the cream carpet drank it all in, staining it permanently.
On the bed, two bodies tangled.
The woman curled her fingers into the man’s hair and surrendered completely, arching into him as pleasure rolled through her in waves. She had waited for this — ached for it — and now that she had him, she would not let go easily. Her body moved with his, every instinct screaming the same thing: hold on. don’t let him leave.
He held her hard, and for hours they moved together. He seemed lost in the moment — or perhaps he was simply drunk, too far gone to care who lay beneath him, and so it did not matter at all.
The sounds drifting from the room were a kind of torture.
Sarah sat on the sofa in the hallway, her posture rigid, her hands folded so tight her knuckles blanched. She did not need to look. She heard everything — every gasp, every murmur, every cry. And the door stood ajar. The mirror across the wall caught every movement, reflected it back to her, clear and cruel.
Her heart was breaking.
The man in that bed was Thomas Charles — her boss, her secret, the man she loved with every breath she took. The woman in his arms was his mistress.
And Sarah? She was only his secretary.
Less than a mistress. Less than nothing. She had no right to speak, no right to object, no right even to feel the agony that was tearing her apart from the inside.
Why had he done this? Why bring her here, make her wait outside, leave the door open? He knew. God help her, he knew.
Sarah gripped the edge of the sofa until her nails sank deep into the leather. The sharp pain lanced through her fingers, but it was nothing. Nothing compared to the hollow, throbbing ache in her chest.
Ring.
The alarm on the coffee table cut through the silence.
Three o’clock. He had asked her to set it. He had an important meeting in thirty minutes, and it was her job to remind him. Her job to wait. Her job to follow. Even now. Even after this.
Why make her watch? Why not spare her even a scrap of dignity?
Sarah swallowed hard. Tears pricked her eyes, hot and traitorous. She wiped them away quickly, smoothed her blazer, and drew a deep, shuddering breath. Courage. She would summon courage.
She stepped toward the open door and knocked softly, keeping her eyes fixed firmly on the floor.
“Sir. It is three o’clock. We must return to the office.”
Inside, they lay tangled in the sheets, looking thoroughly spent. Charles leaned back against the headboard, a cigarette smoldering between long, elegant fingers. In the dim light, his chiseled features were devastating — unfairly handsome, hair wild, eyes heavy-lidded. He looked like a god who had descended to ruin her.
He heard her. He did not look up.
“I know,” he said, his voice low and rough.
The woman curled closer, pressing her cheek to his bare chest. “Charles, don’t go yet. Stay a little longer. You were incredible… I want more.”
Charles set his cigarette aside and brushed the tip of her nose with his finger, playful and tender. “Easy, baby. I know you’re not done with me, but I have to go. I’ll come see you soon.”
His tone was soft. Warm. Loving.
Sarah’s throat tightened until she could barely breathe. That was the worst part. He could be gentle. He simply chose never to be, with her.
The woman murmured something else, and in the next heartbeat, Charles rolled her beneath him and kissed her deeply — right there, right in front of Sarah, as if she were no more than a ghost.
Something inside Sarah snapped.
“Sir,” she said, her voice cool and sharp as a blade. “I shall wait for you outside.”
She turned and walked away before he could reply.
Behind her, Charles glanced toward the doorway. A faint, knowing smirk touched his lips.
Ten minutes later, he emerged from the bedroom, pulling on his dress shirt. The mistress followed, reaching for his tie.
“Let me—”
He stepped back and pushed her hand away. His eyes flicked toward the hallway, where Sarah sat on the sofa, head bowed, her fingers still worrying at the leather as if she might tear through it.
“That’s enough,” he said. “You may leave. Sarah can come in and finish dressing me.”
The woman’s face fell. “Why? Let me do it. Why should another woman touch you?”
Charles’s expression hardened. The warmth vanished. The tenderness dissolved. In its place was something cold and sharp and dangerous — a predator who had finished playing.
“Get out.”
She flinched. She knew that tone. Knew that look. Without another word, she grabbed her things and hurried toward the door.
As she passed Sarah, she paused.
“He says you’re to go in,” she said, her voice dripping with something that sounded almost like pity. “And dress him.”
Sarah did not move.
But slowly, very slowly, she lifted her head.
And looked toward the open door.
Chapter 2: DRESS ME
Sarah stood and watched the woman leave. She clenched her fist before stepping into the dishevelled room, head still bowed, silence clinging to her.
Charles looked at her and smiled. “Come here. Dress me.”
Her knuckles whitened as she clenched her fist again, then she walked toward him. She told herself to focus only on fastening his clothes — to see nothing that would cut her. But as she buttoned his shirt, she saw it: faint red marks beneath the fabric, and the smear of another woman’s lipstick. Tears spilled before she could stop them.
He tilted her chin up, eyes narrowing. “What is it? Why do you look so wretched?”
She gritted her teeth and turned her face away. Charles sneered, sharp and deliberate. “Am I not allowed to touch anyone else? Why do you look as though it pains you so, when I’ve been with another?”
She said nothing. But her heart screamed the words she dared not speak: I love you. But I will not be your mistress. I want real love — nothing less. Give me that, and I would give you everything. My body, my soul. Why do you want me the same way you want them? Why do you cheapen what I feel for you?
Charles, blind to her thoughts, kept his gaze fixed on her. “Or are you jealous? Tell me — have you been imagining yourself in her place, lying beneath me?”
“No.” She turned and met his eyes at last.
He narrowed his gaze, brushing a finger beneath her jaw. “You’ve never known that kind of passion, have you? You love me. Don’t you dream of lying under me? Why not find out today?”
Sarah lifted her hand — and slapped him.
The blow left a vivid red print across his cheek. He held his face, staring at her in stunned silence. Sarah stared back, eyes swimming with tears. Why did he always toy with her heart? Did he not understand how thoroughly he was breaking it?
And though she knew how rash it had been, she did not regret it.
Charles’s expression hardened. His eyes narrowed, dark and dangerous. In one sharp movement, he dragged her back onto the bed and pinned her down — his hands already tearing at her clothes.
“Charles — what are you doing? Let me go! Let me go!”
She thrashed and pushed him, but he was drunk, strong, and immovable. He pinned her harder. Her jacket tore away, taking her dress with it — both ruined beyond repair. She fought wildly, but he stripped her down, leaving only her underwear. Her chest lay half-exposed, bared in the struggle.
Sarah saw her chance — and bit his arm.
He gasped and loosened his grip just enough. She scrambled toward the edge of the bed, almost free — until his hand closed around her ankle and dragged her back. He pinned her firmly, face close to hers. “You think you can run?” His voice was cold, predatory and low.
Tears streamed down her face. “Let me go, Charles — what in God’s name are you doing?”
Charles looked at her, his breath warm against her skin. His half-bared body burned with a dark, undeniable heat, and he seemed to believe he was tempting her.
“What am I doing?” His voice roughened, thick with desire. “I want to see you. I want to know why you hold yourself so precious — that even I may not touch you.” He let his gaze roam over her, greedy and unashamed. Then he smiled, cruel and knowing. “I can see how lovely you are. Slender, yes — but finer than most women. It’s a shame you hide yourself beneath such dull, modest clothes.”
His words were not admiration — they were insult. Sarah burned with shame, furious at how he reduced her to something to be looked at. She twisted beneath him. “Let me go. You are a bastard. A beast.” Her voice shook with rage.
Charles sneered, unfazed. “A bastard? A beast? If you speak to me like that now, what will you call me before this night is done? This — this is nothing.”
Chapter 3: LET ME GO
“What else do you want? Let me go!” Sarah cried.
Charles leaned in close, his voice low and hypnotic. “Sarah — is it really so unwanted? You say you love me. Yet you shrink from me?” His hand drifted up to her face, stroked down her neck, traced the curve of her collarbone — then slid lower, closing over her breast.
Sarah froze, terrified. “Let me go — don’t touch me!”
But he only caressed her more firmly, his voice thick and taunting. “Not wanted? Then why are you trembling? Your body tells the truth, Sarah. Why do you lie even to yourself?” He pressed closer, his hands roaming, deliberate and knowing.
Sarah shuddered — rage and heartbreak warring within her. Despite everything, her flesh betrayed her; every touch sent a shiver through her, and she felt small, cheap, humiliated. Why can I not resist him?
Then he kissed her, his breath searing against her skin, and pulled her into an embrace so tight she could barely breathe.
She struggled, but her body softened against his will. Her flesh answered him even as her heart shattered. She would not give herself to him — not here, not on this bed that still held the scent and warmth of another woman.
The thought lent her strength. She thrashed wildly. “Let me go!”
Charles had believed she was yielding — until she fought back with desperate, unyielding force. Anger flared in him. Why must she always resist? Why fight him now? He would not be turned away, not when she had stoked his desire and then tried to cast him aside. He pinned her harder, limbs tangling with hers, his movements rough and unruly.
Sarah realized she was utterly trapped. He had no intention of letting her go. Helplessness washed over her, dragging her into a deeper, colder despair.
At last he lifted his head, and she could breathe again — but she was spent, broken, sobbing weakly. “Let me go… please, don’t do this. Not here. Not on a bed that another woman has warmed.”
He paid her no heed. He was lost to desire and fury both, and he continued his relentless advance.
Sarah’s hands knotted in the sheets. At last, through ragged breaths, the same words fell over and over — the only thing she had left to say. “You treat me like something less than human. I will never forgive you. Not for as long as I live. Never. I will never forgive you.”
The repetition finally pierced through him. He stopped, lifted his head, and looked into her eyes — bright with tears, burning with anger. Something in him faltered. He touched her chin, his voice rough and unsteady. “Why do you hate me so?”
“Never forgive you,” she repeated, her gaze cold — hopeless, afraid, and utterly lost.
He stared at her for a long moment, his own feelings tangled beyond recognition. Then he struck the bed with his fist, surged to his feet, and glared down at her. His eyes swept over her exposed form; he drew a sharp, ragged breath, wrestled his desire under control — and turned sharply away. Moments later, the sound of running water cut through the silence from the bathroom.
Sarah lay still, tears streaming unchecked. When she had gathered enough strength, she pulled the sheet around herself and curled into the shadows. She did not know what to do. She loved him — longed for nothing more than true, gentle love. But Charles gave her only insult, force, and hurt. She wondered how long this cruel, seesaw game between them could endure.
Dim lamplight could not hold back the dark of the night — nor the shadow settling over her heart.
Far across the city, the headquarters of Thomas Corporation rose eighty stories into the sky, anchored in the most prestigious district where land was so precious only the Thomas family could afford to claim it.
It was four in the afternoon — the peak of the workday. The building hummed with the steady clatter of keyboards; men and women in business attire hurried past, files in hand, every face set in focus.
High above, in the glass-walled conference hall on the top floor, Charles sat at the head of the table, presiding over a meeting of his senior executives.
Outside the doors, Sarah waited. She held a folder against her chest, leaned against the wall, and watched the minute hand crawl around the clock.
She did not know what to do — not where Charles was concerned. After all this time, it was painfully clear: he did not love her. He cared nothing for her feelings. Perhaps he wanted only her body — driven by the thrill of conquest, nothing more. And yet… Sarah still loved him. Deeply, hopelessly, against every wisdom and every wound.
Chapter 4: RESIGNATION LETTER
One year ago, Sarah had come here for her interview. Her final interviewer was Charles. She remembered him clearly: leaning back in his chair, fingers steepled over his chest, utterly at ease. It was that effortless calm that set him apart. His eyes were striking, his thin lips parting just enough to reveal strong, white teeth. In the sunlight, he had looked devastatingly handsome — almost impossibly so.
From that moment, she had been drawn to him. She became his personal secretary, close enough to watch him work, to admire his sharp, brilliant mind and commanding talent. Inevitably, she fell in love. A man of such stature and charisma was always easy to love — and Sarah was no exception. She had never guessed, back then, that beneath that charm lay a devil.
He knew she loved him. And still he toyed with her heart — as if seeing her unhappy pleased him.
Memories of the hotel flooded back. Her skin still bore the faint bruising of his desire; she could almost feel the weight of him, the sting of humiliation clinging to her.
She bowed her head, knuckles white around the folder and pen in her grasp. Why did she cling on? If she stayed, he would only hurt her again. This morning had broken her already. Was she still waiting for a man who knew no kindness? Was any of this worth enduring?
Sarah stood lost in thought for a long moment. Then she glanced toward the conference room — still closed, no sign of anyone emerging. She bit her lip, turned on her heel, and walked back to her office. Her mind was made up.
She would resign. She would leave him. No longer would she stay here and suffer his cruelty.
Once at her desk, Sarah sat and began to write. Tears blurred her vision as she wrote. She had held on for a whole year — and now she was letting go. But what choice did she have? He would never love her. When the letter was finished, she found a box and began gathering her things.
Her assistant Nancy was away, so no one interrupted her. She packed quickly, then perched on the edge of her desk and waited.
Nearly an hour later, Charles returned. Sarah stood and greeted him as usual.
But the moment he saw her, he spoke — cold and sharp. “Why were you absent during the meeting? What if I had needed something?” His tone was biting, reproachful and unfair.
Head bowed, her voice quiet but steady, she said: “Sir… I have thought long and hard. I have come to realise I am not suited to this position.”
Charles had been stepping into his office. At her words, he stopped and turned slowly to face her. “What?”
Sarah kept her eyes lowered, biting her lip. “I wish to resign.”
He stared at her in silence, then a cold, sharp smile touched his mouth. “Are you quite certain you are not being dramatic?”
She lifted her chin slightly. “I am not joking. This has been carefully considered.”
Charles sneered, adjusting his tie with deliberate calm. He walked past her into his office. “I shall pretend you never said that. Get back to work.”
Sarah followed him in, setting the letter squarely upon his desk. “I am not speaking in haste. This is my formal resignation — and I mean it.”
Charles turned, looked from her face to the letter, and laughed. “Resign? Outside of this corporation — outside of me — who will pay you this well? Where will you find benefits like these? Do you imagine life will be easier without me? Your sister is still in school — no parents, remember? Who will cover her tuition? And you — a graduate from an ordinary university — do you truly believe anyone else will value you so highly?”
His words struck her like bullets. She bit her lip, but her voice did not waver. “I would rather starve than stay here and be humiliated.” She pushed the letter toward him. “This is my decision.”
“Is this about what happened… earlier?” Charles studied her, watching for a flicker of softening. When she remained silent, his temper snapped. In one sharp motion, he seized the letter and tore it clean in two.
Sarah stared, horrified. “How could you? Why would you do that?”
“I am within my rights to refuse your resignation,” Charles said, a hard, twisted smile touching his lips.
“That is too much!”
“Is it?” He stepped close, tilting her chin upward. “Sarah… do you love me?”
“Let me go!” She struck his hand away and turned her face aside.
But he caught her chin again, refusing to let her look away. “You spoke of wanting true love — romance. Very well. I will give it to you. From this moment, be my girlfriend. I will treat you as you deserve. I will give you everything you have ever wanted. Now — do you still wish to leave?”
Sarah went still, staring at him as though she had not heard clearly. “What… did you say?”
“I said,” Charles repeated, his voice dropping, “that from today, you are mine properly. I will respect you. I will give you the love you say you crave. So tell me — do you still want to walk away?”
Chapter 5: YOU WANT ME TO BE YOUR GIRLFRIEND
“What?” Sarah stared at him, stunned. “You want me… to be your girlfriend?”
“Is that not what you have always wanted?” Charles met her gaze steadily.
She stood frozen, unable to speak. At last, she found her voice. “You are not… joking?”
“Does this sound like a joke?” He continued to watch her. His manner still held that familiar ease, but his tone was unmistakably serious.
Sarah looked at him a long while, her mind racing. Had he not spent so long hurting her, delighting in her pain? Why yield so suddenly? It made no sense. Why now? Was this truly a change of heart — or merely another cruel game?
He was impossible. Wicked. She had never known a moment’s peace at his hands. Her hand clenched slowly, her gaze turning cold. “Is this some new way to mock me? Will you win my heart only to cast it aside? Do you find my pain so entertaining?”
Charles had not expected this reaction. He saw only mistrust, defiance — and it stung. Anger flared in his voice. “Is that all you believe me to be? Some heartless villain, and nothing more?”
Sarah said nothing, only watched him, weighing whether his words held truth or deceit.
Charles shook his head, frustration rising. “Very well!” He lifted his hand, earnest and unyielding. “I swear to you — every word I speak is true. Will you believe me now?”
Sarah hesitated, still unsure.
At last he said, “I have offered you what you desire. If you cannot trust me, I will not hold you here. Resign, and I shall not stop you. But do not one day regret walking away — from this job, and from a man who would have loved you.” With that, he turned as if to leave.
Sarah stood paralyzed, torn. She loved him. She had spoken harshly, perhaps unfairly — and now he seemed truly sincere. The thought of him leaving tore at her heart, yet she could not bring herself to call him back.
Then Charles stopped. He turned and looked at her over his shoulder. “Do you still wish to resign? Are you certain?”
Sarah stood silent, ashamed and uncertain. She had said such cruel things — how could she now stay?
“If you hesitate… if you do not know what to say — then come here. Step forward, and it means you agree to be mine.”
Sarah remained rooted, unsure.
“I shall count to three.” Charles watched her, his voice steady. “One… Two…”
Sarah drew a breath, her face burning. “If you do not deceive me… then yes. I will be your girlfriend.”
Charles bit back a smile, seeing her flush so beautifully. “Then come here.”
She walked slowly toward him. At once he drew her into his arms, holding her close. “Say it again — are you sure?”
Sarah trembled, but did not pull away. “If you promise never to hurt me as you have done… then yes. I want to be with you.”
Charles smiled — and kissed her.
Sarah gasped, lifting her hands as if to push him away. But before she could think, he pressed her gently against the wall and kissed her deeply, passionately. When he drew back, he looked at her, his voice low and warm. “You are exquisite.”
Sarah stood breathless. Before she could speak, he said, “I will not demand your body — not until you give it freely. But if you are my girlfriend… surely I may kiss you?”
Sarah fell silent. Perhaps he truly meant it — perhaps he would respect her. And in truth… she had felt joy in his arms. She touched her lips softly, still feeling the warmth of his kiss.
Charles watched her, smiling — then leaned in to kiss her once more.
Sarah broke away quickly, cheeks burning. “Sir — we are in the office! Anyone might see us. The door is wide open!”
“Ah — so if I close it… we may continue?” He turned and slowly drew the door shut.
Sarah grew flustered. “That is not what I meant! We are at work. Please — not here. What if someone sees?”
Charles looked at her, amused. “And what of it? You are mine now.”
“Even so… people will talk.” She lowered her voice. “If you wish to be alone with me… at least find somewhere private.”
Charles’s eyes danced. “Ah — so anywhere private… is fair game. I shall remember that.”
Sarah fell quiet, unsure how to reply.
His expression softened. “Enough teasing. You have worked enough today. Let us dine together — what would you like to eat?”
Sarah blinked, surprised. In all the time she had known him, he had never once asked what she preferred. He had always simply ordered. It unsettled her — yet warmed her too. “Anything is fine.”
“Anything? Nonsense.”
“Very well — I should like something spicy,” she said, finding a little courage.
“Spicy?” Charles smiled knowingly. “No wonder.”
Sarah frowned. “What do you mean? Is there something wrong with liking spicy food? Do you imagine I am… spicy in other ways too?”
“Not usually,” he murmured, stepping closer. “But when you resist me in bed… you are positively fiery.”
Sarah’s face burned. “Must you always speak of such things?”
Charles laughed openly, his voice rich and warm. “Not only speak of it… but I am very eager to taste for myself.”
Read A Contract Marriage with my Boss by Anna Shannel Lin on Novora. A CEO novel. She loved her billionaire boss for… Read the first 5 chapters free.
