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Woke Up In The Captain's Bed

Chapter 7 

Word Count: 973    |    Released on: Today at 19:04

i P

AM, I stood in the subterranean

. Tucked into bay four was the familiar black armored

de, handing a manila envelope containing my pa

chirped, flashing me a thumbs-up in the r

didn't look up from his screen once. He didn't acknowledge my presence, acting

glass-walled arena concourse,

shadows of the rear seat. "My office

ors into the bustling lobby, clut

gan to vibrate in my pocket. Brandyn. Again. He had been

d smile curving my lips. It w

stepped into an empty elevator car. I didn't bother l

have to talk to me. I'm so sorry about last night. I didn't mean any of i

into a sickeningly sweet coo that made my own st

e sounded hopel

eel doors. "It's just that my boss is so demanding. He insists on taking up all my personal time afte

im stand outside the restaurant in the freezing wind all night li

second floor. A crowd of corporate lawyers and PR execut

els. A strong, familiar hand shot out and

athed, looking up

ile f

owded cab, was Kurt Duran. His ice-blue eyes were gleaming with

htly it sent a shockwave down my spine. He didn

res

I wanted to melt into the floorboards. I hadn't real

f a toxic ex," I whispered frantically, trying

side. "Careful, Pittman. If you keep complaining about my ma

re owner of the franchise insist on riding the cramped staff elevators

nd I practically bolted out of the cab

sment into pure, relentless productivity. I finalized the stress models, prepped the

the last file, I glanced

cy exit signs glowing green against the walls. The steady hum of the cen

chin, grabbed my satchel,

randyn. He had been waiting at

of the dark office and posted it to my Close Friends story with

wn arrow beside the passenger elevator. This wa

oan of stressed cables, the brushed-metal doors

doors slid shut with a

hen, with a violent, ear-splitting scr

terrifying fraction of a seco

a bone-shaking slam, locking

ry light

ng blackness swa

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Woke Up In The Captain's Bed
Woke Up In The Captain's Bed
“I was just an underpaid junior designer trying to survive the ruthless world of professional hockey. But after catching my boyfriend with his hands up my best friend's designer skirt in a filthy alley, I got blackout drunk and stumbled into the wrong armored SUV. I woke up pinned beneath Kurt Duran-the terrifying, untouchable captain of the New York franchise and the absolute ruler of the sports empire that paid my salary. Terrified of being branded a desperate gold-digger, I ran. I swallowed a Plan B pill, dumped my cheating ex, and worked myself to the bone to earn the prestigious Milan Design Summit nomination. But my jealous coworkers couldn't stand a nobody winning. They hacked my terminal and planted stolen competitor files on my workstation, framing me for federal corporate espionage. My director suspended me on the spot. Security guards began sweeping my life's work into a plastic evidence bin, while my colleagues sneered that I was heading straight to a federal penitentiary. I clenched my bleeding palms, suffocating under the sheer injustice. I had survived poverty, a cheating ex, and grueling sleepless nights just to prove my worth. Why was my entire career being destroyed over a manufactured lie? "Hand over your badge and your digital keys," my director barked. I refused to shed a single tear for those hyenas. Suddenly, the frosted glass doors were kicked open with a thunderous crash. Kurt Duran strode into the room flanked by five elite litigation partners, his murderous blue eyes locked directly on me, ready to burn the entire building to the ground.”