His Assistant, His Secret

His Assistant, His Secret

Jombovictoria25

5.0
Comment(s)
View
13
Chapters

His Assistant, His Secret Mira Hale is a disciplined, quiet executive assistant who believes professionalism is the only way to stay safe in a demanding workplace. For two years, she has kept her head down, managing the life and schedule of her boss, Julian Cross, a powerful businessman admired for his control, confidence, and success. Julian is married. He has a family, a reputation to protect, and a life that looks perfect from the outside. But behind closed doors, his marriage is strained, and the weight of unspoken dissatisfaction follows him everywhere. Mira notices the change in him long before she understands it. What begins as a strictly professional relationship slowly shifts into something more fragile and dangerous. Late nights, shared vulnerability, and emotional dependence blur the lines they both promised not to cross. As Mira struggles with guilt and restraint, Julian finds himself leaning on her in ways he never intended. When boundaries are finally crossed, consequences follow quickly. An unexpected pregnancy forces hidden truths into the open, shattering the careful balance Mira tried to maintain. Faced with judgment, heartbreak, and uncertainty, she must decide whether love is worth sacrificing her dignity, independence, and future. With the unwavering support of her best friend, Lena Brooks, Mira chooses a harder path one that demands strength, self-respect, and growth. His Assistant, His Secret is a story about forbidden love, power, consequence, and the quiet courage it takes to choose yourself when love is no longer enough.

Chapter 1 His Assistant

CHAPTER ONE

My name is Mira Hale, and for the past two years, I have worked at Elvis Company as the executive assistant to Julian Cross.

People tend to notice Julian without trying to. He doesn't demand attention, doesn't raise his voice, doesn't fill rooms with unnecessary charm. He simply exists in them-tall, composed, impeccably dressed-and somehow that's enough. His suits are always tailored just right, his beard kept neat, his movements deliberate. Even his smiles feel intentional, like he's aware of their impact and uses them sparingly.

I manage his life on paper.

Every meeting. Every appointment. Every business trip. I know where he needs to be before he does. I know which calls matter and which ones can wait. I attend most meetings with him, sitting slightly to the side, taking notes, watching the room the way assistants are trained to do. The only things I don't manage are the strictly personal ones.

Julian Cross is married.

I know this because of the framed photograph that sits on the corner of his desk, always angled just enough to be visible but never intrusive. A woman with effortless elegance, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. A little girl beside her, smiling wide, unmistakably his. He never talks about them. I've never asked. Some boundaries are understood without being spoken.

Still, after two years of working this closely with him, I've noticed the changes.

He used to smile more. Used to make small jokes during meetings, dry observations that made people relax. Lately, that version of him feels distant. He's quieter now. Withdrawn. As if something heavy follows him everywhere he goes, settling into the corners of his eyes and staying there.

It's not my place to ask why.

My roommate, Lena, would disagree.

"If I worked for your boss," she once said, sprawled dramatically across our couch, "I'd flirt my way into a raise."

I didn't even look up from my laptop. "He's married."

"I know," she laughed. "Relax. Married men are not my thing."

That's Lena. Loud. Bold. Unapologetic. The kind of person who laughs first in a crisis and figures out the plan later. Where I hesitate, she leaps. Where I overthink, she shrugs and moves forward.

We met during our first year of college under circumstances that should have ended badly.

I'd been rushing down a crowded hallway, late for an exam, when I collided with another student. Hard. Books flew. Papers scattered.

"I'm sorry," I said immediately, crouching to help gather her things.

She grabbed the front of my top. "Watch where you're going."

"I said I'm sorry," I replied, trying to stay calm.

"You must be stupid."

Before I could respond, someone stepped between us.

"She apologized," a firm voice said. "That should be enough."

I looked up to see Lena standing there, arms crossed, completely unbothered. The other girl muttered something under her breath and walked away.

Lena glanced at me. "You're good. Go."

I did. I didn't even know her name yet.

Later that day, I saw her again in the cafeteria. I thanked her. She smiled briefly and walked away. Over time, we kept running into each other-shared classes, overlapping schedules, late-night study sessions. Talking became routine. Friendship followed naturally. Even years later, she's still the one person I trust without question.

Last Friday started like any other workday.

Until it didn't.

I arrived early to finish a few pending files before the office filled up. I'd barely settled at my desk when my office phone rang.

"Bring the files to my office," Julian said.

I gathered them, knocked once, and stepped inside.

"Good morning, sir."

"Good morning, Mira."

He smiled.

It caught me off guard. It had been a while since I'd seen that expression on his face, and for a brief moment, it felt like something had shifted-something small but noticeable. I handed him the files and left without comment.

A few minutes later, my phone rang again.

"Bring the Brooks Investment documents."

I picked them up and walked straight to his office. This time, I didn't knock. I opened the door without thinking.

And froze.

His wife was standing there.

I hadn't heard raised voices, his office is soundproof but the tension in the room was unmistakable. The air felt tight, charged, like I had stepped into the aftermath of an argument that hadn't finished burning.

"I'm sorry," I said quickly. "I didn't realize you had someone with you. Good morning, ma'am."

She turned toward me slowly, her expression sharp, assessing. Cold.

"Can't you knock?" she snapped.

"I apologize," I said immediately. "I didn't mean to-"

Julian cut in. "I asked her to come in. You can go. We'll finish this conversation at home."

She stared at him, disbelief flashing across her face.

"Are you seriously defending her?" she asked. Then her gaze returned to me, hard and dismissive. "This... thing?"

My chest tightened.

I didn't raise my voice. I didn't insult her.

"With all due respect," I said evenly, "I'm not a thing. My name is Mira."

I placed the documents on the desk and walked out.

Back at my desk, my thoughts spiraled.

Had I crossed a line?

Would this affect my job?

Should I apologize?

Before I could decide, an email notification appeared on my screen.

All meetings are canceled until Monday. You may leave for the day.

It wasn't even mid-morning.

I shut down my computer, gathered my things, and went home.

The apartment was quiet when I arrived. Lena wasn't around. I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the scene over and over until the details blurred together.

Should I text him?

Explain myself?

Apologize?

I didn't hear the front door open.

"Mira!"

Lena's voice cut through the apartment.

"I'm not dead," I called back. "Why are you yelling my name?"

She appeared in the doorway, hands on her hips. "Because I've been knocking for thirty minutes. You didn't move."

She checked her watch. "Why are you home so early? It's barely past three."

"That's not possible," I said. "I got home around noon."

She stared at me for a moment. "Then you've been lost in your head for hours."

She sat beside me. "Want to tell me why?"

I hesitated. Then I told her everything.

When I finished, she laughed.

"I'm being serious," I said.

"I know," she replied. "But listen you didn't insult her. You didn't raise your voice. You stated your name and walked away. That's not disrespect."

"She called me a thing."

"And that says more about her than you." Her voice softened. "You did nothing wrong, Mira. Stop punishing yourself."

Something in my chest loosened.

She stood suddenly. "You're spiraling. Come on."

She dragged me into the living room. "Movie night."

By evening, the tension had drained out of me.

That night, sleep came easily.

Saturday passed quietly. So did Sunday. No emails. No explanations.

On Sunday night, Lena leaned against my doorframe. "Tomorrow, act normal. Don't apologize unless he brings it up."

I nodded.

She pulled me into a hug. "You're okay. Don't forget that."

Continue Reading

You'll also like

The $300 Husband Is A Zillionaire

The $300 Husband Is A Zillionaire

Nap Regazzini
4.5

I woke up in a blindingly white hotel penthouse with a throbbing headache and the taste of betrayal in my mouth. The last thing I remembered was my stepsister, Cathie, handing me a flute of champagne at the charity gala with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Now, a tall, dangerously handsome man walked out of the bathroom with a towel around his hips. On the nightstand sat a stack of hundred-dollar bills. My stepmother had finally done it—she drugged me and staged a scandal with a hired escort to destroy my reputation and my future. "Aisha! Is it true you spent the night with a gigolo?" The shouts of a dozen reporters echoed through the heavy oak door as camera flashes exploded through the peephole. My phone lit up with messages showing my bank accounts were already frozen. My father was invoking the 'morality clause' in my mother’s trust fund, and my fiancé had already released a statement dumping me to marry my stepsister instead. I was trapped, penniless, and being hunted by the press for a scandal I hadn't even participated in. My own family had sold me out for a payday, and the man standing in front of me was the only witness who could prove I was innocent—or finish me off for good. I didn't have time to cry. According to the fine print of the trust, I had thirty days to prove my "rehabilitation" through a legal marriage or I would lose everything. I tracked the man down to a coffee shop the next morning, watching him take a thick envelope of cash from a wealthy older woman. I sat across from him and slid a napkin with a $50,000 figure written on it. "I need a husband. Legal, paper-signed, and convincing." He looked at the number, then at me, a slow, crooked smile spreading across his face. I thought I was hiring a desperate gigolo to save my inheritance. I had no idea I was actually proposing to Dominic Fields, the reclusive billionaire shark who was currently planning a hostile takeover of my father’s entire empire.

I Slapped My Fiancé-Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis

I Slapped My Fiancé-Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis

Jessica C. Dolan
4.9

Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé. Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now-billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn't mind. I'd crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one? Wrong. One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That's when it hit me-he didn't love me. He didn't even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn't even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup. So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster-my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise. Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol. Enter him. Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I'd met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes. It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised. But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life. And, as it turned out, the best decision I'd ever made. Because my one-night stand isn't just some random guy. He's richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with. And now, he's not letting me go.

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book