My Boss My Babydaddy

"Cheers to you finally getting a job," said Sophie, my bestie, raising her glass like we just won the damn lottery.

I laughed, clinking my drink against hers. "I know, right? It's been a long time coming. I was starting to think the universe blacklisted me."

"Girl, you manifested that shit. New job, new money, and maybe, a new man?" She wiggled her brows suggestively.

I rolled my eyes, taking a sip of my drink. "Let's just start with the job. One miracle at a time."

We were at Club Vibe, the kind of place where the lights are low, the music's high, and the drinks come in colors that shouldn't exist. I was just supposed to have one cocktail to celebrate my new job at Steele Empire. One became three, and by the fourth, I was no longer just tipsy, I was full-on sexy-confident.

"Come on! Let's dance," Sophie shouted over the music, already pulling me toward the dance floor.

And that's when I let loose. No, scratch that, I unleashed. Short black dress. High heels. Curves for days.

I didn't know it then, but the way I moved had already caught his attention. The man who later gave me the best night I could ever ask for.

I didn't know that when I danced that night, when I rolled my hips and flipped my hair, I was dancing for my boss. I didn't know he was in that club, watching me from the VIP section like a predator eyeing his prey.

I just knew I felt good. Alive. Powerful. Sexy.

When our eyes met across the room, I felt it, a sharp, magnetic pull. He didn't smile. He didn't nod. He just stared, drinking me in like I was his last shot of whiskey.

And I danced harder.

I don't remember who made the first move, only that one second I was dancing and the next, a strong hand wrapped around my waist. It was Mr. Hot Stuff from across the room.

"You move like you know the world's watching," he murmured, his lips grazing the shell of my ear.

I turned to face him, breath catching. Up close, he was even more gorgeous. Dark hair that begged to be pulled. Eyes like wet obsidian. A jaw so sharp it could cut glass.

"Maybe I like being watched," I said, letting my fingertips trail over his chest.

His smirk was slow and deadly. "Come with me."

And I did. No questions. Just heat.

We left the club like strangers chasing a fantasy. No names. No questions. Just that look, the kind of look that says we both know what this is.

His hand was on the small of my back as we stepped into the elevator of the high-rise. I could still feel the bass of the club thumping in my bones, but his presence? That drowned out everything else.

By the time the elevator doors slid shut, I was already on edge. His scent, dark cologne, and