Mated to my Billionaire Boss

Emma Arrives as Alexander Drax's Assistant at Drax Industries

1. The Arrival

The elevator ride to the seventy-fifth floor of Drax Industries lasted longer than it should have. I had knots in my belly, the nerves tightening with every fleeting second. The walls of the elevator were reflective metal, catching me in whatever anxious expression was written on my face-wide blue eyes, lips pressed together with my one stubborn auburn strand refusing to stay put behind my ear. I took a deep breath to steady myself.

It was just a job.

Certainly, a high-profile one, but still just a job.

Then why was it that I felt I was about to walk into a lion's den?

The name Alexander Drax was spoken in business circles with a mix of awe and fear. A billionaire. A heartless pioneer. A man who'd raised an empire from nothing-a man who had, apparently, crushed anyone who dared get in his way.

And here I was about to be his assistant.

I adjusted my leather bag's strap and checked my reflection in the elevator door one last time. Professional, composed, and ready.

And then the elevator dinged.

Floor 75.

2. The Silence

The doors slid open, exposing a cold, modern battlefield.

The whole top floor was encased in glass, granting an unsettling panorama of the city below. It was monochromatically decorated. Black marble, steel mix-his taste was exquisite yet cold. The air smelled faintly of leather and something metallic.

What struck me was the silence.

No assistants bustling about, no receptionist at a desk beside him keenly happy, no chipper chit-chatter-all just a strange, all-consuming quiet.

I took a few hesitant steps forward, my heels clicking against the marble floor. I took a quick look around the open area. Several workstations stood waiting; no workers were to be seen. Several desks sat empty; no papers cluttered the tops.

It felt like stepping into a machine; one that operated on whispers and precision.

Then I saw the frosted glass doors in front of me, sternly engraved with a single imposing name:

ALEXANDER DRAX, CEO.

I pulled myself up straight. I was commanded to report directly to him. No assistant to greet me. No wisecracks beforehand. Just him.

I raised my hand to knock.

Then a voice.

Quiet. Slow.

"You're late."

3. The First Encounter.

I caught my breath.

I spun round, heart pounding, to find a man standing at the broad picture window.

He stood rigidly, his back to me, arms clasped behind him, with the glimmering skyline spread endlessly behind him, yet he didn't turn.

"Oh, are-"

"I'm not wasting time listening to your excuses."

There was an authoritative note that nearly cut through the air, leeched with an almost sweet menace.

I hesitated. Something about the way he stood-completely still-set my instincts screaming: I was being size-upped and reassessed.

"Close the door," he said.

I complied, my fingers trembling slightly on the heavy glass door as I shut it behind him. The latch clicked solemnly.

He turned.

And for a split second, I forgot how to breathe.

Alexander Drax resembled nothing like I had imagined.

I had gotten an impression of an old, gray-headed corporate overlord, perhaps somewhere in his mid-forties, with an ice-cold penetrating stare and a stiffer black suit. The man who stood in front of me was something else.

He was in his mid-thirties, yet there was something on his face that made him seem older. The suit fit him to ruthless perfection: the dark fabric accentuated broad shoulders and a lean, powerful build. His was a face of sharp angles and clean lines, striking enough to keep one's gaze.

And then there were the eyes.

Storm-gray. Bright. Cold.

Eyes who studied me as if I were an equation they wanted solved.

"You won't last a month," he said flatly.

The words sent a shiver to my spine.

I straightened to my full height. "If that's so, what do I have this month for?"

For the first time, the flicker that crossed his face could have been taken for amusement-or curiosity.

Then, as quickly as it surfaced, it vanished.

He turned towards his black glass desk and replied, "We shall see if you are worth the trouble, Miss Sinclair."

My fingers clenched at my sides.

A test.

Only I didn't yet know how many ways existed to fail this one.

The First Task

Drax sat behind the desk, fingers steepled. "I presume you have had instructions from before you arrived?"

I nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Then the efficiency is non-negotiable."

I had read the handbook for assistants, or rather just the two-page correspondence that reached me. Unlike most corporate manuals that have prescribed processes or standard procedures, this one was blunt to a point bordering on ominous.

Directions for Alexander Drax's Assistant:

1. Do not waste time.

2. Do not make the same point twice.

3. Do not expect praise to be given.

I had thought this to be melodramatic. Standing there in front of him, it suddenly made perfect sense.

"Good," said he. "Now let's begin."

He slid a slim black folder across the desk.

"Inside it is a contract. Your first job is to figure out what's wrong with it."

I hesitated. "Sir, I-"

"Time's wasting."

I bit my lip, picked up the folder, and opened it. The document inside was thick with legalese, pages of fine print. I quickly thumbed through the text, scanning for anything that seemed out of whack.

I had been at it for two minutes.

And then-

It was there.

A subtle error, buried in the clauses. A single line changing financial liability that looked rather intentional.

I looked up. "This contract is fraudulent."

Drax leaned slightly forward, interest simmering in his eyes. "Explain."

I tapped the page, saying, "Clause 14 contradicts Clause 6 and creates a loophole that transfers the company's liability to the client. This has been dressed up as an everyday clause but has been deliberately set up as a trap."

Silence.

Then, a hint of a smirk-and I would take the time to say the smallest hint-"Smart."

I let out a fine breath, feeling lighter. Maybe I had-

"You're still too damn slow."

The words landed right in my lungs.

I blinked. "I-"

"You took two minutes and thirty-eight seconds to catch an error that should have taken no more than ninety seconds."

I clenched my jaw tightly. "Most people wouldn't have caught it at all."

He tilted his head slightly, apparently in consideration. "True."

He then closed the folder and put it aside. "You'll get faster. Or you won't."

Implication: If I didn't? Then I wouldn't last.

I settled my gaze on him for a second. "I will get faster."

That was the first time he smiled.

A sharp and knowing smile.

"We'll see."

The Warning

As I emerged from his office, my heart raced. The humidity in the corridor almost seemed to clutch at my throat.

I had passed the first test.

But this was only the opening round.

And in some small place in me, a voice harangued me,

Careful.

Alexander Drax was not testing me.

He was studying me.

And

I had the strangest feeling...

That he already knew exactly how this would end.

The First Meeting

"Emma Comes across Alexander Drax-Whoosh There Goes the Tension and Chemistry.-

1. Ticking Clock

I was yet to get myself settled on the desk when my phone went off.

A single message.

DRAX. NOW.

Nothing pleasant, no instructions.

Just his name: a command.

My heart pounded in my chest. My first official meeting with Alexander Drax. This morning I had spent thirty-six minutes in his office, and from then I understood perfectly that he was a man who would not stand for inefficiency.

And now he was wanting me back to his office.

I grabbed my notebook and took a deep breath. Concentrate. Don't overthink it. Just go.

By the time I reached the frosted glass doors, my hands had steadied, though my heart was racing.

A single knock.

A pause.

Then-

"Enter."

---

2. The Man at the Chair

The air in Alexander Drax's office always seemed to carry a certain weight compared to the rest of the building. It's not only the silence or the way the city behind him just seemed to stretch for eternity. It was him.

He sat back in his chair behind a sleek black desk that gleamed under the overhead lights. His suit was impeccable, and every inch of him was composed and controlled. The man who never hesitated on the validity of any of his decisions.

Except now he was looking at me with curious intensity as if I had done something unexpected.

I shut the door unhurriedly behind me and said after me, "You called for me, sir?"

A slow nod. "Sit."

I moved toward the chair across from him, forcing myself to keep my gait slow. Again, if he tested me, I wouldn't fail.

Seating myself in the chair, he leaned forward slightly, storm-gray eyes regarding mine.

"You made it longer than I expected," he said.

I kept my expression neutral. "It's been three hours."

"And most don't make it past one."

I arched an eyebrow. "I assume you love watching people fail."

Something flickered in his eyes-interest, amusement?

"I enjoy seeing who's worth keeping," he corrected. "I don't tolerate wasted space."

The tension between us tugged and pulled. Again, he was testing me, I could feel it.

"So," I said, keeping my voice calm, "am I wasting space?"

An instant of silence.

Then-

"Not yet."

---

3. The First Challenge

Drax leaned backward in his chair and surveyed me with an expression I still couldn't decipher.

"Tell me," he asked, "what do you know about Leonard Blackwell?"

The name sent a ripple of alarm coursing through me. Leonard Blackwell was a corporate giant, a man who realized his fortune by buying out tech companies in a killer market, medium park cause vested by competitors. Ruthless. Cutthroat. Dangerous.

I met Drax's gaze. "He's a venture capitalist with a reputation for hostile takeovers. He's currently circling two major firms, both in AI development."

Drax's lips curled slightly. "Good. What more?""

I hesitated. Another trap?

I weighed my words carefully. "There are rumors he's targeting Drax Industries."

That one wordly utterance made him stiff, and now he stooped slightly, the tension shifting gently from his shoulders to his expression.

"You were actually paying attention," he murmured.

I resisted the urge for a significant swallow. "I guess I have to be if I am to be of any use as an assistant."

For a moment, he just watched me. The way he studied people was unsettling-like he was peeling off layers, looking deep beneath the surface for the cracks.

Then, he slid a folder across the desk.

"Blackwell is on the move now," he said. "Find out what leverage he actually has for me, within the hour."

My hands tightened convulsively on the folder.

One hour.

It couldn't fail.

"I'll have your report on the desk before the deadline," I reassuredly announced.

Something flickered in his eyes once again. Approval?

Then, a slow smirk. "We'll see."

---

4. The Chemistry

I got off the chair, with the folder ready in my hand. But when I went for the door, his voice rang through.

"Miss Sinclair."

I turned back. "Yes?"

He let his gaze sweep over me-an almost embarrassing, heated sense under his gaze.

"Not what I expected," he almost mused.

I cocked my head. "And what did you expect?"

"Someone predictable."

I swallowed. "Disappointed?"

A pause.

Then-a slow, almost dangerous smile.

"Not yet."

I turned and walked out before he could see me shudder to withhold my breath.

---

5. The One-Hour Countdown

I hurried against time, flipping through financial records, legal filings, and industry reports. My head was running in overdrive at the last moments with a picture of Leonard Blackwell's strategy forming.

At last, by the forty-five-minute mark, I had my answer

Blackwell wasn't just making a move; he was setting up a corporate coup. He had insider connections, backdoor dealings, and sabotaging networks working in his favor.

And in his sights was Drax Industries.

At fifty-nine minutes and twenty seconds, I walked back into Alexander Drax's office and laid the completed report on his desk.

He, however, didn't look right away at the report.

He looked at me.

"That was fast," he said.

"You gave me a deadline," I said casually. "And I met it."

He smiled a little. "Impressive."

An electric moment of silence hung between us. The kind of silence at once pregnant with meaning, speaking of an unvoiced challenge, of unbreakable attraction.

I could feel the change in the air hissing and bubbling with furious energy.

And then-

He finally opened the folder.

The smirk disappeared from his lips.

---

6. The Shift in Power

His visage became hardened as the report was scanned. His jaw tensed, the flex of the muscle spent conspiring against meet there underneath.

I could perceive what was consuming his thoughts. The pattern of deceit, crafted snares choicely placed, the moves Blackwell was making behind the curtain.

Drax's fingers curled slightly over the edge of the page.

He looked up at me.

His gray eyes were sharper than ever.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yes," I replied with no hesitation at all.

A long silence, measured and awful.

Then-

"That bastard," he muttered under his breath.

I stiffened. That was the first time I had seen a seam rip open in his armor. A mere shadow of something primal just behind the ice.

And just that quick, the mask returned.

He folded the file and leveled his fingers onto the desk. "Miss Sinclair," he started slowly, "I think I've underestimated you."

The shivers ran down my spine, but maintaining my voice steady, I replied, "That makes two of us."

He exhaled low-a sharp, bark-like sound, almost not like a laugh.

Suddenly he leaned back in his seat.

"Congratulations," he said. "You've just assured you will work for me more than a week."

The tense connection between us felt electric and undeniably there.

I held his gaze, my heart pounding like a drum.

"And what will happen beyond that week?"

His smirk came back slow and knowing.

"We'll see."

And for the first time since I walked into his office, a realization washed over me.

I hadn't just passed his test.

I had captured his attention.

And that might be far more dangerous than failing.

Alexander's Struggle: The Wolf and Emma

She was Awakening.

Alexander had spent years training himself for control. Control of his emotions, control of misleading instinct, and above all, control over the wolf inside. But the minute Emma had taken hold of his life, all the discipline and self-restraint came crashing down.

It started-nasal around him, even before he saw her-of a sweet mix of lavender and honey. His wolf twisted, scraping at the walls of his mind, deep growls reverberating in his chest. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to breathe normally, but his body betrayed him. He tensed, his vision sharpened; adrenaline rushed through him so fast that his heartbeat pounded in his ears.

And then he saw her.

Emma stood poised in the doorway of an ancient little bookshop, her amber-and-brown eyes scanning the rows of Linenthal primly arranged bookshelves as if she were overawed. Strands of stubborn auburn hair framed her face; while some bushed away from her ponytail, the rays of light raked through their gossamer layers like luminous embers. She seemed too fragile, too delicate for the short storm into which she had unwittingly stepped.

Teeth clenched in frustration, Alexander spun away.

That was impossible. No, not possible. Not now. Not him.

But his wolf refused to leave. It crashed forward, radiating one, plain, undeniable truth: Mate.

Chapter Two: The Fight Within

Alexander heard about fated mates but never truly believed in them. His kind often found mates based on compatibility and instinct, but one soul that gripped unbreakably had always been a tale for him-until now.

He kept his heart near still as Emma came next to him and began browsing the shelf beside him. The sound of his heart beating away inside was steady, strong, and so clueless as to the internal war waging in him.

Stay cool. Conceal it.

But that was harder than he thought. Just the very soft brushing of her arm against his made the wolf flare up inside.

Mine.

Primal possession hit him. His claws were coming out; his fangs ached to grow. It took everything in him to restrain the shift, to keep his body from exposing what he was though.

"Sorry," Emma said, looking up at him and giving an apologetic smile.

Her voice was low and melodic; the sound of it sent a shudder right through him.

He had to get out of there. Now.

Silently, he turned on his heel and all but bolted for the door, the appearance of reluctance and stiff movement rendering him the picture of a most unnatural being. Before he even had a chance to shut the door, he solidified a deep breath away to scour all her scent from within his lungs.

But it was too late.

The wolf had already claimed her.

Chapter Three: Distance Is Not an Option

For the next few days, Alexander simply avoided the bookstore. He stayed away from anywhere she could possibly show up, lingering in the dark like a wounded thing. Alas, this helped little.

The wolf was just restless there inside him, pacing within its cage, angry at the mere distance. Every other night along, he pushed himself to stand outside her apartment building-though unseen and unnoticed, practically to ensure she was safe.

It wasn't a natural sort of infatuation-a lure that led to danger.

And yet the man couldn't help but succumb to it.

At some point during that night, she had walked alone to her home.

It was a late hour, and there stood empty streets. Alexander stood far away, convincing himself he was there only to make sure she got home safely. But at that instant, he got a whiff of another wolf-one that belonged nowhere on his territory-and ice rushed through his blood.

A rogue.

His body moved before his mind did: his wolf roared to the surface. He crossed the distance between them in mere seconds as the dark figure's form emerged from the shadows of the alley.

Emma gasped and stepped back, but the rogue was too close.

Alexander didn't waste time. He let forth a growl as guttural as a lion's. He crashed into the intruder with great momentum, and the two fell to the pavement. The claws went deep, in the fight that was quick, merciless, brutal-the moment, in panic, that the other wolf recognized whom he was dealing with, he fled rickety into the dark.

Alexander drew a deep breath, a rasping breath. His heart was still thumping furiously when he turned to find Emma staring at him, with wide eyes.

"What the hell was that?" she whispered.

He gulped.

You should not have let her see.

"Nothing. Just a thief," he said, forcing his voice under control.

Emma didn't look convinced, but before she could ask more, he turned and disappeared into the night.

Chapter Four: Losing the Battle

It had been hard to avoid Emma before. But now, it was impossible. She filled his mind, senses, and dreams. The wolf could be content no longer, but wanted her.

And the more he fought it, the harder it became to stay away.

He could not truly help himself but watch her at a distance, basking in her warmth, laughter, and presence. She had no idea what she was doing to him. She had no idea how much he was holding back.

Then came the breaking point.

It was a quiet evening. The café she adored was nearly empty, and she was sitting by the window, reading. Alexander had meant to walk by, to carry on.

But when their eyes met...

For just a moment, the world seemed to cease.

She smiled and, inside him, something broke.

He was walking toward her without knowing why, his body obeying instinct. She looked up, startled yet pleased, as he approached.

"Alexander," she said, closing her book. "I wondered when I'd see you again."

He hesitated, his body screaming at him to bolt. But no.

He sat.