Harry Hulk. You could say he was the most handsome man in the whole wide world.
When I worked among the research team at the company, I had never met him. Some said he was a ghost, that hardly anyone ever saw him. But the moment I got promoted, the moment he lifted a single finger and motioned for me to come into his office, I knew the rumors were not false.
My knees weakened like a fallen thief.
Calling him gorgeous was an understatement. He was crisp, clean, tall, not heavily muscled but perfectly built. He had thick lashes even mine could not compete with, and his slow, deep voice alone was enough to make any girl weak.
Yet every bit of attraction I felt vanished the moment he started ordering me around like an errand girl. He barely noticed me, hardly even looked at me, just task after task, meeting after meeting. Slowly, I grew to hate him, and his beauty became something I barely noticed with time.
I never expected that the man I would meet in this world would be a replica of my boss, or rather, my boss himself. There was no mistake. This had to be him. Did tapping my desk bring both of us here? If so, why was he the king while I was being dragged around by burly guards?
His eyes still held that familiar stern look as they narrowed on me.
Why? Did he not recognize me?
"Boss," I blurted out, loud enough for the entire court to hear.
That was when I got my first reaction from him, a slow raise of his brow, followed by murmurs spreading through the court.
"Boss? It's me, Isabel," I tried to pull my hand away so I could run to him. We might not be friends, but I knew him, he was the only familiar face in this strange world. Relief washed over me, I had found my last hope.
The guards' grip was too strong, they did not let me go.
"Boss, boss, boss."
"Silence!"
The king's voice thundered through the hall and I felt it in my bones, the entire court falling into dead silence.
My mouth shut instantly, but I did not look away, I couldn't. He had to know me, he had to remember me or else I was doomed.
His eyes roamed over my dress, taking me in before turning lazily to the guards. "Who did you bring?"
My world shattered, my shoulders slumped and all that left me was a broken whisper of "Boss." No, how could he not remember me? This had to be some strange dream.
The guard holding me shrugged. "Caught trying to sneak into the palace."
What?
My eyes widened. Sneak? I opened my eyes and suddenly I was standing among people I didn't know and now he was saying I tried to sneak in? My chest heaved loudly, yet despite what he was saying, I could only stare at my boss. His gaze stayed on the guard, a faint frown forming.
"Among the young spinsters you summoned, she stood there with them, looking like this," he added, pointing at my dress.
Now the king stared at me, deadpan, his mouth twisted into something close to fury. "So, Melbourne sent a spy?"
Huh? What? A spy? Seriously, was something going on that made everyone think I was one?
"No, I'm not a spy, please. I don't know how I got here, but you have to believe me, I'm from the twenty first century," my voice stretched thin, trembling, and I was on the verge of tears, any second now they would spill.
"Strange accent, strange dress, I believe she is a spy," one of the elders said.
"Melbourne certainly wants to overthrow you."
"But we caught him."
The elders murmured among themselves, staring daggers at me. I flinched, my eyes moving around the court, every single one of them looking at me like I had stolen a sacred kingdom artifact.
I looked back at the king. His arm rested lazily against his chin again, whatever spy or Melbourne scheme they were discussing, he seemed unfazed. His eyes were calm, focused only on me.
Something shifted in my chest.
I did not even know anymore if this man was truly my boss, but something had changed. It was the first time he had really looked at me, and despite the sternness in his gaze, there was warmth there. He seemed calmer in this world. This man should not be my boss, yet he was. There was no mistaking it, he looked far too much like him.
"I plead to the king that the spy be executed."
Eh?
My head snapped toward the man who had spoken. He stood tall in a finely tailored suit, a crisp white cravat at his neck, gray hair neatly trimmed. His eyes locked on me, hard and unyielding, making something in my chest leap. There was a coldness in his gaze that sent sweat crawling down my spine.
"And why is that, Richard?" My boss—or rather, the King—spoke with bored detachment.
"She's dressed differently, speaks differently, and doesn't belong here. It's only reasonable to suspect she's a spy, a very dangerous one at that."
I stared at him, truly stared, and he returned my gaze with pure loathing. I had never met him before so why was he speaking as if I'd personally wronged him? Surely this was some cruel prank.
"Death by hanging," he finished with a smirk.
My heart pounded. Words failed me. What could I even say? I had just confessed I was not of this world, and yet they still treated me like an assassin. Desperate, I turned to the King, blinking with wide, pleading eyes, hoping my innocence might reach him. But his expression remained hard to read.
"Leave her," he commanded the guards, but they hesitated, still holding me.
"But my king, she could pull out a weapon," one protested.
Seriously? He thinks my tiny handbag is a weapon? I regretted not even having a gun, but… wait.
"Leave her," he repeated slowly this time. The weight in his voice made them step back, finally letting me move my hands freely.
Right. My phone.
It was in my bag. Maybe it could link me back to my world. Just as I reached for it, the King announced,
"She will serve me. Personally."