Page 41 of My Billionaire Boss Crush

With him, I feel seen, cherished, and understood in ways I never thought possible. Our conversations flow effortlessly, laughter cascading like music in the air. We share dreams, aspirations, and vulnerabilities, weaving the tapestry of our connection with each passing day.

The world around us may be oblivious to the depth of our love, but within the confines of our shared moments, we are free to express ourselves, to explore the boundless horizons of our romance. Each touch, each kiss, is imbued with a sense of reverence and passion, a testament to the intoxicating blend of desire and affection that courses through our veins.

I’m so lost in staring at him that I don’t notice him walking toward me until he’s right in front of me. “Alex… Um, I mean, Mr. Graves.” I stutter, rising clumsily to my feet, much to his amusement.

“Miss Osbourne,” he smirks, raising a perfectly carved brow at me, no doubt shocked since I never call him Mr. Graves, not even at work. “Can I see you in my office, please? We have a lot to discuss concerning the press conference.”

My cheeks immediately grow warm at the thought of what happened in Alex’s office the last time he asked me to come, a few hours ago. He gives me a knowing look, and my insides tingle in anticipation. “Of course, sir.” I gather my writing materials and follow behind him into the elevator.

As soon as we’re in the enclosed space, Alex tugs me closer to him and hits the stop button in the elevator. “Hey, beautiful,” he smiles, and the sight of it makes me lose my ability to speak. “I’ve missed you.” He presses his lips against mine as his hands slide down my waist to squeeze my ass.

“I’ve missed you too,” I grin up at me. Christ, the man makes me act like a helpless, love-struck teenager. “Are you ready for your press conference? You’ve only got…” I trail off, turning his arm to get a look at his diamond-encrusted watch. “…exactly two hours left.”

The deal we went to finalize two weeks ago in Paris was successful, and it’s such a big deal that Alex’s PR team had insisted on holding a press conference about the project. Everyone at the company has been preparing for the event for days now just to make sure that nothing goes wrong.

Alex shrugs casually. “Just another day at work,” he says, confidence brimming. When he senses my concern, he grazes my cheek with the back of his hand. “It’s going to be fine. I’ve done this before, you know?”

Sighing, I melt against him. “Yes, I know. I just keep having this feeling that something bad is going to happen. I can’t get it out of my head.”

“Well, maybe I can help with that.” He grins broadly and kisses me, deeper this time. And by the time we exit the elevator, I’m too sated and deliriously happy that I can barely remember why I was worried in the first place.

Two hours later, the room buzzes with anticipation as I take my place beside Alex at the press conference, our hands intertwined beneath the table so that no one can see. The weight of our secret hangs heavy in the air, a palpable tension that threatens to unravel the carefully constructed facade we've maintained.

I don’t know if it’s because we’re in the presence of numerous reporters whose jobs are to seek out the truth, but I can’t shake the feeling that they know about Alex and me.

As Alex begins to address the reporters, who ask question after question, his voice steady and composed, I try to remain calm as I take notes. Everything is going perfectly well until there’s a loud series of pings around the room.

Trepidation rises within me as every single person in the room stares at their phone and back up. Their gazes which were focused on Alex before, now rest on me, too, and I immediately know that something is wrong.

One of the people on Alex’s PR team rushes towards us with his phone in his hand, and what I see on the screen has me gasping for air. It’s a picture of Alex and I, from our dinner date last night, kissing on the restaurant’s private balcony.

I yank my hand out of Alex’s, sweat beading on my forehead as I feel the collective curiosity in the room. Whispers echo through the crowd as if the truth hovers just beyond their grasp, waiting to be unveiled.

And then, it happens. The secret we've guarded so fiercely is exposed to the world.

A reporter, with a cunning smile on her face, interrupts my boss mid-sentence, her voice filled with accusation. "Is it true? Are you and your personal assistant involved in a romantic relationship?"

Time freezes as the room erupts in a frenzy of flashing cameras, eager voices, and probing questions. The truth, no longer concealed, hangs in the air, its weight pressing down upon me, threatening to suffocate. Panic surges through my veins, my heart pounding in my chest.

Caught off guard, Alex glances at me, his eyes filled with concern and a tinge of regret. At that moment, I see the gravity of the situation etched upon his face. A mix of fear, worry, and a deep longing to protect me from the chaos that has engulfed us.

I feel the weight of their stares, the intensity of their curiosity, as their gaze turns to me, expectant and hungry for a scandal. Panic bubbles within me, threatening to consume everything I am, but I summon every ounce of courage to meet their gaze, my voice steady despite the chaos within.

"I cannot confirm or deny any personal relationship at this time," I reply, my words measured, careful. It's a feeble attempt to shield our secret from the greedy claws of the media, but I know deep down that the damage has been done.

The frenzy erupts, a whirlwind of flashing cameras, probing questions, and accusations. Reporters clamor for a response, their voices blending into an indistinguishable cacophony of judgment and sensationalism. The room feels suffocating, the weight of their scrutiny bearing down on me with an unbearable force.

I steal a glance at him, searching for reassurance amidst the chaos. But his expression is a mix of anguish and helplessness, his eyes mirroring my own turmoil. We are united in this moment of vulnerability, our secrets laid bare for the world to dissect.

The room spins around me, the noise and chaos blending into an indistinguishable cacophony. I feel exposed and vulnerable as if every eye in the room is fixed upon me, dissecting my choices and scrutinizing our connection.

Unable to bear the weight of their judgment, I rise from my seat, my legs unsteady beneath me. Ignoring the chaos surrounding me, I make a desperate dash toward the exit, desperate to escape the suffocating atmosphere and the prying eyes.

The echoes of their questions reverberate in my ears, and the rapid beating of my own heart drowns out the click of my heels against the cold marble floor.

As I burst through the doors, the outside air hits me like a gust of freedom, momentarily clearing my mind. Tears blur my vision as I race down the corridor, my footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. The weight of the truth hangs heavy upon me, threatening to consume me entirely.

Fear and uncertainty cloud my thoughts as I grapple with the consequences of our secret being laid bare. Will our professional lives crumble in the wake of this revelation? How will our colleagues, our friends, and our families react? The questions churn within me, a relentless storm I can't escape.

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