I freaking hate mornings. But you know what I hate more... Mondays. Having to wake up early to go to work for the money taken by bills, insurance and most of all, tax.
As soon as I hear my alarm ring, I snoozed it and immediately get up. Sitting on my bed while rubbing my eye's. I can't afford to be late... literally. I hit the shower as soon as possible after placing my outfit for the day on my bed.
Immediately after showering. I wear what I have prepared and glanced myself in the mirror.
My outfit is polished and professional – a tailored black pencil skirt that hits just above my knees, and a crisp white blouse with a modest neckline and cap sleeves. My long, dark hair is pulled back into a tight, low ponytail, and my brown eyes are enhanced with minimal makeup – just enough to look put-together without distracting from my work.
The time is 8:30 and I rush to the parking lot. Locking my apartment door on my way out.
I arrive at the office within 25 minutes. The files, agendas and documents for the day prepared.
I have been working for the Ivanov Industries for the past 8 years now and I have worked hard to get promoted. I had a lot of options to choose from and to work for but, the Ivanov industries is the best decision I have ever made. Not because of my boss only but because it pays well.
My office is on the same floor as his. Right outside his door. I knock, holding the things for today.
"Come in." My heart melts and my knees buckle as soon as I hear his voice. Damn, this man. I calm myself down before opening the door.
There he is. Where do I even begin with this man? He's a vision of raw, untamed masculinity, sitting in his office, paging through his work with an intensity that makes my heart race. His dark, brooding eyes are focused, his jawline sharp enough to cut glass. Every line of his face tells a story of power and control, and I'm utterly captivated.
His meaty, juicy biceps bulge as he moves, each muscle fiber defined and begging to be touched. I can almost feel the strength in those arms, imagining how they would envelop me, hold me close. His chest clenches whenever he speaks, the deep timbre of his voice vibrating through me, sending shivers down my spine. I long to press my lips against his firm pecs, to trace the lines of his abs with my tongue.
His broad shoulders taper down to a narrow waist, and I can't help but picture myself running my hands along the contours of his back, feeling the heat of his skin.
His hands, strong and calloused, flip through the pages with a confidence that makes my knees weak. I want those hands on me, exploring every inch of my body, claiming me as his. I'd let him do anything he wanted, let him take control and show me the depths of pleasure he could give.
Oh, the things I'd do to him. I'd let him have his way with me, over and over, until we're both spent and...
"MS MOORE!" I get snapped back to reality. His once focused face on his work is now focused on me. Anger and a bit of annoyance on his face before it goes back to his usual stoic face.
As I stand there, caught in the intensity of his gaze, I feel a rush of heat to my cheeks. I'm embarrassed. My mind races, trying to regain its composure, but the image of him is seared into my memory, making it impossible to forget the raw, primal allure he exudes. I quickly realize I've been lost in my thoughts for too long, and my professional demeanor is slipping.
"Mr. Ivanov," I manage to say, my voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside me. "I apologize for the delay. I have the files and agendas for today, as requested."
I step forward, placing the neatly organized stack of papers on his desk, careful to avoid any further distraction. His eyes flicker over the documents, and I can't help but notice the way his hands, strong and capable, move with precision as he picks up the top sheet.
"Thank you, Ms. Moore," he replies, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down my spine. "Please ensure that everything is in order. We have a busy day ahead."
I nod, feeling a mix of relief and anticipation. "Of course, Mr. Ivanov. I'll make sure everything is perfect."
As I turn to leave, I steal one last glance at him, committing the image to memory. The man is a force to be reckoned with, and I can't help but feel both intimidated and utterly drawn to him. This is just the beginning of another day, but with him, every moment feels charged with possibility.
With a deep breath, I close the door behind me. I return back to my desk. Beginning with my work for the day.
The day is already intense, but it takes a dramatic turn when my work phone rings, its shrill tone cutting through the quiet of the office. I answer promptly, my professional tone in place.
"Ms. Moore speaking. How can I assist you?"
A deep, commanding voice responds, "I need to speak with Ivan Ivanov. Immediately."
I recognize the authority in his tone, but I'm taken aback by his abruptness. "May I ask who's calling?"
"His father," he replies, his voice leaving no room for further questions.
I quickly inform Mr. Ivanov, who emerges from his office. His face still void of emotion but one thing is different, his demeanor has changed.
"Follow me," he demands, his voice clipped. I grab my notepad and pen, hurrying after him as he strides down the hallway with purpose.
As we enter the conference room, I see a man who is clearly Mr. Ivanov's father. He has the same sharp features, the same piercing dark eyes, and the same commanding presence. His silver hair is slicked back, and his tailored suit exudes an air of power and wealth. He stands tall and imposing, his posture straight and confident.
"Father," Mr. Ivanov greets him, his voice tight. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
His father cuts straight to the point, his voice firm and unyielding. "I've arranged a marriage for you, Ivan. It's time you settled down and focused on the family business."
Mr. Ivanov's expression darkens, and I can sense the tension radiating from him. "What are you talking about? I'm not interested in marriage."
His father waves a dismissive hand. "Nonsense. It's a strategic alliance that will benefit us both. The wedding is set for next month."
Mr. Ivanov's eyes flash with anger, and he turns to me, his expression unreadable. "Ms. Moore, could you please give us a moment?"
I nod and step out of the room, my mind racing. As I wait outside, I can't help but overhear snippets of their heated conversation. Suddenly, the door opens, and Mr. Ivanov steps out, his face a mask of calm.
"Ms. Moore, I need you to inform the staff that I'm engaged. To you," he adds, his voice low and steady.
I stare at him in shock, my mind reeling from the unexpected turn of events. "Engaged? But—"
He cuts me off with a look. "It's a necessary deception, Ms. Moore. Play along, and I'll explain everything later."
I nod, my professionalism kicking in despite the chaos of my thoughts. "Of course, Mr. Ivanov. I'll handle it immediately."
As I walk away, I can't help but wonder what other surprises this day holds. One thing is certain: working for Ivan Ivanov is never dull.