One Night Stand With My Cocky Boss

~Sienna~

The night sky over Bellmore was dusted with stars, their soft glow spilling over the terrace at Verità, one of the city's most romantic restaurants. Fairy lights sparkled above me, casting a warm light that danced across the silk of my dress. A flutter of nerves and excitement rushed through me. Four years—four years I'd been waiting for this moment.

“Tonight's special,” I told myself. Grant had never been one for grand gestures, but this... this was different. He'd chosen the place, made the reservation.

“Meet me there,” he'd said. And I'd let myself hope that tonight might finally be the night.

My phone screen blinked back at me. He was late, the minutes dragging as I tried to keep my anxious mind from running wild.

Finally, I saw him cross the restaurant's entrance, dressed in knickers and a sleeveless shirt that flaunted those small arms of his, his tall frame familiar yet distant. I sat up straighter, my pulse racing as he walked toward me, though something in his expression seemed off. There was a heaviness in his gaze, a look that had my heart lurching with a mix of excitement and unease.

“Grant,” I said, feeling the words catch in my throat. “You have no idea how long I've been waiting for tonight.”

He gave a small, tight smile, his hands clasping on the table, his fingers laced together as though holding something back. My own hands fidgeted in my lap, my anticipation turning to dread.

“Sienna,” he began, “there's… something I need to tell you.”

The slight tremor in his voice felt like a punch, but I forced myself to stay calm, nodding. "Okay…?"

He took a deep breath, looking away, his eyes fixed on some invisible point. “I've met someone else.”

For a moment, the words didn't register. “You… met someone?” My voice was shaky as I searched his face, trying to make sense of what he was saying. The words sounded distant, surreal.

He exhaled, his gaze still averted. “She's… the one I love, Sienna.”

The breath left my lungs. “What? But we've been together for—”

“I know,” he said flatly, his eyes finally meeting mine. “And I never planned to tell you like this, but… I can't keep doing this. You need more than I can give, and—” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I'm sorry, Sienna, but this has to end.”

The weight of his words settled like stones in my stomach. Four years. Four years of love, sacrifice, and compromise for a future that was never meant to be. I'd thought he was my anchor, my partner, someone I could lean on. But now it felt like he'd let go of my hand, leaving me to drown on my own.

I never expected he would leave me because of the intense argument we had three nights ago about him not supporting me with my father's medical bills, the way Grant's face tightened every time I asked for help. I should have taken the clue.

I wanted to ask why he couldn't have told me sooner, wanted to scream at him for abandoning me when I needed him most, but the words wouldn't come. There was nothing left to say.

Without another word, he rose from the table and walked away, leaving me sitting alone, surrounded by the fragments of a life I'd thought was ours.

---

I didn't remember leaving the restaurant. I only knew that I was walking the streets of Bellmore, numb and directionless, until I found myself stepping into the dim, comforting lights of The Ivy—a bar I'd passed a hundred times but had never gone into. It felt like a refuge, somewhere removed from everything I'd just lost.

I ordered drink after drink, the bartender giving me a curious look as I tossed them back. The alcohol burned, but it didn't dull the ache that had settled in my chest, heavy and unyielding. It was as though everything around me was moving underwater, distorted, while the pain stayed sharp and clear.

“Looks like you could use something stronger,” a smooth voice said beside me, jolting me from my haze.

I turned to see a man leaning against the bar, his dark eyes studying me, a spark of curiosity in his gaze. He was impeccably dressed, white collared shirt with his sleeves rolled up casually, revealing veiny, heavily tattooed forearms. A faint scent of cologne surrounded him. I let my eyes rake over him for a little longer before looking away.

“Not sure anything's strong enough for that,” I muttered, tipping back another drink.

He smirked, a hint of warmth in his expression. “I don't usually recommend drowning sorrows, but… you look like you could use the company.” He slipped into a stool beside me, and the way he casually ran a hand over his raven-black curly taper fade—it was attractive as hell.

"I'm Lucas. Nice to meet you, Sienna," he said with a grin, nodding toward the beaded bracelet on my wrist—it had my name on it.

I rolled my eyes; I really needed to take this damned thing off already. He leaned in closer, taking a sip from my drink.

For reasons I couldn't explain, I didn't pull away. There was something about him—a calmness that felt grounding, as if he could steady me through the storm raging in my chest.

“I just got out of… something,” I managed.

“Yeah, me too,” he said, his tone surprisingly soft. He looked away for a moment, a flicker of something raw passing through his gaze. “Worst blind date of my life. Figured this bar was a better use of my time.”

Despite myself, I smiled, the faintest lift at the corner of my lips. “I've been with someone for four years,” I murmured. “Or at least, I thought I was.”

“Four years?” he echoed, his gaze sharpening as he took in my expression. He nodded, as if understanding without me having to say more. “Sounds like you got the raw end of the deal.”

The words stung, but there was a comfort in them, in the shared understanding that I didn't have to explain. And as I spoke, my voice cracked with laughter, with anger, even tears that slipped out despite my best efforts. He listened to it all, and somehow, he didn't turn away.

As the night wore on, one drink turned into another, the world around us slipping away until it was just his eyes.

After a while, he reached for my hand, his touch gentle, steady. He leaned closer, his gaze locking with mine, then his crimson lips crashed into mine, a mix of wine and cigarette on his breath.

"I don't mind being your rebound. You can use me to get over him. What do you think?" He broke the kiss, his blue eyes searching mine for an answer.

At first, I was surprised, wondering why such a good-looking guy would want something like this. He looked rich and confident; don't men hate being rebounds?

His lips met mine again, his hands feeling every inch of my body through the silk material of my gown. I moaned softly at how his touch ignited something within me. And in that moment, I realized that I wanted this—I wanted more of this feeling, anything, that would pull me from the ache Grant's words had left behind.

Without a word, I nodded, letting him lead me out of the bar and to the hotel across the street.

Inside the room, he pulled me close, his hands brushing my cheek, my hair. His touch was slow, careful, almost reverent, as if testing the edges of a fragile thing. My heart raced, my body responding to the warmth of his hands on my skin, grounding me in the present, pulling me from the hollow ache Grant had left behind.

I melted into him, losing myself in the way he held me, the way his breath felt against my skin. It was the sound of his voice, low and soothing, the way he murmured my name as if it held some meaning, that let me finally let go.

For the first time, after years of loyalty to that bastard, I allowed myself to feel another man's touch. He guided me to the large bed, and in that moment, the pain began to slip away.

~Sienna~

The harsh ring of my phone jolted me awake, slicing through the haze of my hangover like a siren. I squinted, reaching out blindly until my hand found my phone, and I heard Violet's voice on the other end, loud and filled with urgency.

“Sienna! You better be on your way, girl. We can't be late today, not with the new boss making his grand entrance!”

Her words hit me like a bucket of ice water, bringing me back to reality. I blinked, trying to clear the sleep and fog from my mind, and quickly took in my surroundings. This wasn't my bed. Sunlight filtered in through partially closed curtains, casting soft shadows over a room that was…definitely a hotel.

Memories of last night began to resurface: a heartbreak, a stranger with dark, seductive eyes, and kisses that had left me breathless, melting into him in a way I hadn't let myself feel in years. Part of me still reeled from the breakup with Grant, the weight of it heavy, but somehow, being with that man had dulled the pain just enough, filling me with a warmth that hadn't quite faded.

I turned, catching a glimpse of him sleeping peacefully beside me, his chest rising and falling with an easy rhythm. A surge of panic joined my hangover headache.

What the hell have I done?

Quietly, I slipped out of bed, gathering my clothes scattered across the floor. My hands shook as I hurried to get dressed, hoping he wouldn't wake. With one last glance back, I made my escape, softly closing the door behind me.

---

Back home, the relief was short-lived as I stepped through the door. Before I could even take a breath, I heard my adoptive mother, Lillian, berating my younger half-sister, Hannah, from the living room.

“Hannah, I can only count on you to find someone decent,” Lillian's tone was edged with impatience. “If your sister just listened to me, she'd be married by now. But no—she's got to be so difficult!”

"She's not my sister!" I heard Hannah's voice.

Rolling my eyes, I entered, my face as neutral as I could make it, despite the anger simmering just within me like a furnace. Lillian's gaze locked onto me, narrowing as she took me in.

“Well, it's the rebel herself,” she said with a scoff, barely masking her irritation. Hannah sat beside her, shooting me a look that was half disdain, half jealousy. She thought I had taken her place in Dad's heart since the day I joined the family, but I'd never once done anything to make her feel that way.

“You're back early,” Lillian continued, her gaze sweeping over me as though sizing up an opponent.

“Yeah.” I tossed the word out, hoping it would be enough to stop her from asking more.

But of course, Lillian wouldn't let it go. “I spoke to Mr. Hall, and he said you turned him down. He was willing to cover Andrew's hospital bills, Sienna. Do you realize the opportunity you're throwing away?”

I swallowed. “I've got it, Lillian. Dad's surgery is scheduled for the latest in two days.”

A lie. There was no way I had enough money for the bills mounting up, and I had no idea where I would get it, but I couldn't let her keep dangling marriage proposals in front of me like that was the only way to help my father.

“Got it, how?” she sneered. “Your salary in twenty years couldn't cover those bills. Jack Lowry's son is still interested, and you're not in a position to be picky.”

My fists clenched, every word laced with bitterness as I felt the fight simmering within me. Instead of snapping back, I forced a tight-lipped smile.

“I'll handle it, don't worry.”

Without waiting for a reply, I slipped into my room, letting the door close behind me. The exhaustion of everything—last night, my father's health, and Lillian's endless pressure—hung heavy in the air, and I fought to keep the pain at bay. The only family I had, the only father I'd ever known, was lying in a hospital bed, his life tethered to machines, and I was barely holding on myself.

The memories of my past swirled as I took a seat on my bed. I was only twelve when I lost my memory, waking up in a cold, sterile hospital room, told I'd been found alone on the roadside with no identification. Andrew Wilde, the doctor who'd tended to me, eventually became my father, giving me a home, a name, a life. And now, years later, he was my only constant—the man who'd saved me when no one else did. I owed him everything. But the cost was so high, and Lillian… well, Lillian had only grown more cold and calculating as Dad's condition worsened.

I sighed, pushing the thoughts away. I had work to face, and a new boss to meet.

---

An hour later, I stepped through the revolving doors of Weston Corp. The lobby bustled with energy, a strange tension in the air as employees moved hurriedly around, in their extra ordinary polished looks Today marked the return of the CEO's son, freshly back from London and rumored to be taking over.

As I walked toward my department, I spotted Violet, her coffee-brown bob bouncing as she waved me over excitedly. She looked especially put together, her amber eyes practically glowing with anticipation.

“Thank god you're here,” she whispered, grabbing my arm and looping it through hers.

“Mr. Jones Jr. is set to arrive any minute. Apparently, he's taking over sooner than anyone expected. Can you imagine, running an empire like Weston Corp at twenty-six?”

I forced a smile, my mind still swimming with last night's memories. “I'm just trying to imagine what he looks like,” I replied, trying to shake off my thoughts.

Weston Corp is one of Bellmore's biggest conglomerates, known for its reach across finance, real estate, tech and more. Working here in the design department means I'm just one of thousands of employees, and frankly, most of us will never even meet the CEO, let alone his elusive son who's been outside the U.S. since he was young.

“Well, I heard he's ruthless and hot. And, rumor has it…” She paused, giving me a sly smile. “…he's single.”

I rolled my eyes, laughing despite myself, but before we could exchange more gossip, a sudden hush fell over the lobby. A sleek convoy of black cars pulled up, uniformed drivers moving in synchronization to open the doors. Bodyguards flanked the entrance as a tall figure emerged from the central car.

The crowd shifted, every head turning as he entered. He wore a long, dark-brown wool coat that brushed his calves, a sophisticated Kangol hat angled just so, obscuring part of his face. Beneath, his suit was immaculately tailored, fitting him like it was made for him alone.

As he strode forward, the scent of expensive cologne drifted through the lobby, and an unspoken power followed in his wake. Everyone's gaze followed him, captivated by the aura he commanded.

My heart thundered as he walked in, his gaze sharp and assessing as it swept the room. But then his eyes locked on me, and a spark of recognition flashed between us, sharp as a blade. The world seemed to tilt, my heart stammering in my chest as the realization washed over me, crashing over me like a wave.

It was him. The stranger from last night—the man I'd thought would be nothing more than a fleeting memory.

My head spun as everything clicked, my mind racing to process the truth. I'd spent the night with my new boss. And with the way his eyes narrowed at me, It was obvious he remembered me, too.