Fill in
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
~ Camilla
I couldn’t see past the goddamn tower of files in my arms.
Stephano had dumped them on my desk with that smug, condescending smirk of his, like he’d just gifted me a promotion instead of a week’s worth of pure, unfiltered bullshit. Budget breakdowns, Q3 performance reviews, department reports. Elvis never did this to me. Elvis respected personal space. Elvis didn’t assign me mailroom delivery duty like I was a goddamn intern.
But no. Stephano was different. Stephano was an asshole with a god complex, a dick too proud of itself, and a vengeance kink aimed squarely at me. This was my life now. Ever since I refused to sign that ridiculous contract, which was just his polished, lawyered-up version of "Be My Desk Slut, Anytime, Anywhere", he'd made it his mission to grind me into dust.
And I was doing it. Delivering these fucking files. Trying not to drop them. My arms ached. The top folder was sliding. My heel wobbled.
“Son of a bitch,” I hissed under my breath, adjusting the stack awkwardly against my chest. A stapler jabbed my ribs. Paper clips were stabbing me in the side like tiny metal assassins.
I kept walking, clenching my jaw. One folder slipped out and slapped the floor like a betrayal.
“Stephano Maddens, I swear to God,” I muttered, crouching to retrieve it, “ if I had a hacksaw, I would personally saw your cock off and mail it to your mother with a thank-you note.”
A deep voice spoke behind me.
“Need a hand?”
I froze.
My blood turned to ice.
I straightened slowly, so slowly it was like I thought maybe time would reverse itself, and turned to face the voice.
Tall. Tailored suit. Charcoal grey, silk tie. Hair like he’d just stepped out of a GQ ad, jaw sharp enough to cut through steel. And those eyes, clear, steady, focused right on me.
I knew that face.
Where had I—?
Shit. Yesterday. The conference room.
The new guy. The new senior partner.
Alex.
Just fabulous.
“Uh, no. I mean. Yes. I’m fine.” I shifted the files in my arms, trying to look casual and ending up smacking my own chin with a binder. “Totally good here. Just… Strength training. You know, for the soul.”
His mouth quirked, just a little, and oh god, I wanted to disappear.
“I’m Alex,” he said smoothly, offering his hand.
I stared at it like it was a grenade. Then remembered how human interaction worked and shifted the files again, one slipping right to the floor with a flutter.
He bent to pick it up before I could.
Kill me. Kill me now.
“Camilla,” I mumbled, taking the folder, not meeting his eyes. “Thanks.”
“Pleasure.” He nodded toward the files. “Mailroom?”
I nodded stiffly.
He glanced toward the hallway, then back to me. “Let me take half.”
I should’ve said no. Should’ve told him I had it handled.
Instead, I shoved half the stack at him with the grace of a collapsing drunk and muttered, “Thanks.”
He didn’t say anything. Just took them like it was nothing.
Inside my head, one voice screamed.
Curse you, Stephano Maddens. I hope you get a paper cut on your dick.
I could feel the sweat gathering at the nape of my neck, right beneath my collar, like my body knew it was time to panic.
Alex was walking beside me like he hadn’t just witnessed my absolute fall from corporate grace yesterday, like I wasn’t currently a human file cabinet with a stress twitch.
And that stupid part of my brain, that shriveled corner that still gave a shit about impressions, suddenly screamed, What if he heard you?
What if he’d walked up right after I threatened to dismember Stephano? What if he’d caught the part about mailing his dick to his mother? What if he was recording!?
I nearly tripped over my own heel.
No. No way. I hadn’t said it that loud. It was just a whisper. A personal vent to the universe. A completely justifiable, rage-induced monologue that should’ve been private…
Alex glanced over at me, lips twitching. “So…”
Oh god. Here it comes.
“…do you actually plan to cut off my friend’s dick, or was that just heat-of-the-moment stuff?”
I. Stopped. Breathing.
My feet halted. My soul left my body.
Friend?!
FRIEND?!?
Oh Jesus in a blazer.
I whirled toward him, eyes wide. “You, what—I—HOW—”
He held up his hands, still carrying the files effortlessly, like this wasn’t the worst moment of my professional career.
“I only caught the tail end. Something about a hacksaw. A very… vivid image, I have to say.”
I could feel my face burning. My ears were on fire.
“Okay, so I may have… said things. Things not meant for outside consumption,” I mumbled, trying to avoid eye contact. “Like. You know. Internal dialogue. Just me and God having a private moment.”
“Sure. God and a power tool.”
“Oh my god,” I groaned, turning away, mortified. “Please forget that. I’ve had a rough month. Actually, a rough decade. If anyone asks, I’m a Buddhist pacifist with deep respect for the male anatomy.”
Alex laughed.
“It’s fine,” he said. “If it makes you feel better, Stephano definitely deserves at least a warning shot.”
That startled a snort out of me before I could stop it. “You know, I knew you were too good to be completely loyal to him.”
He grinned. “I’m loyal. Not blind.”
I shook my head, still humiliated but slightly less homicidal. “Seriously though, do me a favor and forget everything I said before you showed up. Especially the part about his mother.”
“No promises,” he said smoothly, stepping ahead to hold the mailroom door open for me.
He leaned casually against the doorframe, looking me over with that intense, assessing gaze that only senior partners have. He’d only been here for a day, but the way he carried himself, like he owned the place, made me feel small, exposed, under a magnifying glass.
"So," he said, his tone lighter than I felt, but his eyes still narrowed just enough to make my skin crawl. "Why’re you doing intern work? You’re the executive assistant to one of the most powerful people in this company. That can’t be your job."
I froze for a moment, caught off guard by the question. He didn’t know me. He didn’t know anything about me. And yet, his question felt like an accusation. Like he already had an opinion about me, about what I was capable of, what I deserved. My throat went dry. What was I supposed to say?
I could feel the heat rising in my chest, my face flushing. Just tell him something. Anything but the truth.
"Well, it’s… uh…" I shifted the files awkwardly in my arms, trying to find an excuse, something that sounded reasonable. But I couldn’t just say the truth, that I was here because Stephano had been punishing me. That would sound pathetic.
"It’s just his way of, you know, making sure I stay on track," I finally blurted out. "Punishing me for… slacking." I cursed myself instantly for the lie. It wasn’t a complete lie, but it was a convenient version of the truth, sugarcoated, palatable. I’d been slacking, sure. I’d been slacking in everything except trying to keep my sanity intact.
Alex raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. He stood up straight, crossing his arms. "Punishing you?"
Shit. He was staring at me with that look now, like he didn’t believe me, but was too polite to push further. His eyes flicked down to the files in my arms, then back up to my face.
"Well, I guess I don’t have much of a choice," I said, forcing a laugh that came out too harsh. "He’s the boss, right?"
Alex gave me an unreadable look, but then his lips twitched slightly, as if he were trying to suppress a smirk. "Yeah, well," he said, glancing over my shoulder as if Stephano might appear at any moment.
"He does have a way of… making people regret things."
I flinched inwardly, my stomach churning. Making people regret things. Was he talking about me?
I tried to steady my breathing, but my chest was tightening. I could feel my pulse pounding in my ears. Just stop. Don’t give anything away. You can handle this. You’re fine. You’re fine.
I shifted uncomfortably. The last thing I needed was to talk about him, Stephano, anymore. Not with Alex. God, not now.
"You should probably get those files sorted," Alex said, his voice suddenly softer. "Don’t want them to be sitting around in the mailroom all day, right?"
I blinked, thrown by the sudden change in his tone. "Yeah. Sure."
"Hey, no worries." He gave me a brief, reassuring smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
I nodded quickly, suddenly too aware of the awkward silence between us.
"Thanks."
I pushed past him to get into the mailroom, suddenly desperate to get away from the conversation, away from him.
God. I needed to stop thinking about it. I just needed to focus. Just keep working.
The Next Morning
I gave myself a full TED Talk in the elevator.
“You are a strong, independent woman with great tits and a functioning brain,” I whispered, eyes closed as the numbers climbed. “You are not going to let a smug, oversexed CEO with a jaw carved by Lucifer himself ruin your goddamn career. You’re going to march into that office, hand him his schedule, and if he so much as smirks at you, you will karate-chop him in the dick with your clipboard. We are done being weak. We are done being horny. We are…”
Ding.
The doors opened.
I marched down the corridor like I was about to serve God himself a subpoena.
I was calm. I was composed. I had on my best blouse, the one that said I’m competent and have definitely never begged my boss to rail me over his desk. My skirt was tight, my heels were high, and my dignity? She was trembling, but she was present.
I knocked once on Stephano’s office door, didn’t wait for a reply, and pushed it open with all the authority of a woman who had not been reduced to a panting mess in that very room a month ago.
And then, I paused.
The chair was empty.
No Stephano.
No tailored suit.
No espresso in his hand, or phone glued to his ear while he insulted three people at once and still managed to look like the cover of a billionaire BDSM fantasy novel.
I blinked. Once. Twice.
Weird.
Stephano never came in late. He was usually here before Satan had even set his alarm.
“Maybe he’s dead,” I murmured to myself, walking in a little further. “Or maybe he choked on his own ego and finally ascended to the kingdom of douchebag heaven.”
I checked the desk. No signs of life. Just the faint scent of his cologne lingering like a ghost that wanted to fuck me.
I crossed my arms.
I shouldn’t care. I should not care. He was a tyrant with a tie collection that could seduce a nun. But I was his assistant. If he wasn’t showing up today, I was supposed to know. Where was the cryptic early morning text? The “Handle the meeting. Don’t screw it up” email?
Nothing.
“Whatever,” I muttered, stepping back toward the door. “Maybe he spontaneously combusted from being too much of a dick in one body. I’d light a candle. I’d…”
Thud.
I slammed directly into something solid.
Correction: someone solid.
My boobs, god help me, bounced off the obstacle.
I let out a very undignified squeak and stumbled backward, arms flailing, papers flying, skirt hiking up in an undetermined direction.
“Oh my god, I’m—” My voice cracked like a pubescent choirboy’s. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t see…”
And then I looked up.
And saw.
Alex.
Alex.
Perfectly disheveled hair. He had on this navy suit that fit his body like it had been sewn directly onto his skin by angels. The color made his green eyes pop, and I swear to God he was glowing. Glowing.
And the smell.
Sweet Jesus in a suit, he smelled like crushed cedarwood. Like expensive aftershave, clean linen.
“Camilla,” he said. One brow raised. “You okay?”
I nodded.
I nodded so hard I nearly dislocated something.
“I’m fine,” I squeaked. “ We’re good. I’m fine. I mean. Hi.”
I wanted to die.
I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole and then spit me into another dimension.
“I didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” he said, lips curving into the most devastating smirk known to mankind. “I was just coming to see….”
“Right, yes, of course, Stephano,” I babbled. “Unfortunately, he’s…not in yet? Or maybe he is. And invisible. He’s very stealthy. Could be crouched under the desk doing power squats. You never know with him.”
Jesus take the wheel.
Alex tilted his head slightly, clearly amused, and I swear I saw a dimple. A dimple.
“Actually… I came to see you.”
Me?
My brain went off.
“Me?” I echoed out loud, like a malfunctioning parrot.
Alex nodded, hands in his pockets, posture still ridiculously confident for someone who’d just had boobs bounce off him like stress balls. “Yeah. Since Stephano’s out of town…”
Out of town?!
My thoughts slammed into a brick wall.
Stephano. Is. Out. Of. Town.
And I didn’t know.
I didn’t know.
His assistant.
His executive assistant.
The woman who had to book his flights, cancel his flights, rebook his flights because “why the hell would I go commercial, Camilla, am I a farm animal?”
And he just… left? Without telling me?
I blinked hard and smiled like I wasn’t about to scream. “Oh… right. Yeah. Out of town. Of course he is. Totally normal. Love that for him.”
Alex studied me for a moment, brow creased slightly like he was picking up on the emotional hurricane behind my eyes.
Then, clearing his throat, he continued, “I was wondering if maybe you could… huh…” He rubbed the back of his neck. RUBBED THE BACK OF HIS NECK. Why was he nervous? Why was I nervous? Why was my uterus doing cartwheels?
“…fill in,” he finished.
I blinked again.
“Fill in?” I repeated. (Apparently, I was only capable of repeating the last two words people said today. Very sexy. Very sharp.)
“As my temporary secretary,” he clarified. “Just for the week. Until I go through the interviews. They’re scheduled sometime this week, but I need someone to hold the fort in the meantime, and you… well, you clearly know how things work around here. And Stephano trusts you.”
That last line made me snort. Out loud. Accidentally.
He grinned.
I panicked.
“Sorry, I just—trust—ha! Ha ha! That’s a funny word!” I said with the voice of a deranged goose. “But no, yeah, sure. You want me to… be your secretary. Temporarily. Great. Cool. Yes. I have… folders.”
Why was I like this?
He smiled, relaxed again. “It wouldn’t be anything too crazy. Just managing my calendar, a few meetings, fielding calls. Maybe grabbing coffee if you’re already getting some. I promise not to be a tyrant.”
Tyrant.
I nodded, far too enthusiastically. “Of course! Happy to…fill in. For you. Temporarily. Yes. I will be your secretary. Temporarily. Totally professional. Very secretary-ish. Secretarial. I can do that. Easy.”
God, shut up, Camilla.
Alex’s mouth twitched, like he was trying very hard not to laugh.
“Great,” he said, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a slim tablet. “Here’s my schedule. You can set up at the desk outside my office, and I’ll send you my meeting notes from this morning.”
I took the tablet like it was the Holy Grail.
He hesitated for a second longer, then said more softly, “And hey… thanks. I know you didn’t have to.”
I smiled, trying not to melt into the floor. “Yeah. Of course. Always happy to help.”
He gave me one last smile.
As soon as he disappeared, I turned and slammed my forehead gently against the doorframe.
This was fine. This was good. This was how I die.