Under the Cover of Darkness

Under the Cover of Darkness

Chapters: 26
Updated: 19 Dec 2024
Author: Christiana Cherry
4.6

Synopsis

After a chance encounter, the lives of two different people change drastically. Billionaire CEO Carson Miller thought he'd be alone forever until he met a strange masked woman who made his heart do things he never thought it could. Alexandra Holdman has never had it easy in life. From bills to paying for a comatose sister in the hospital, she needs all the money she can get, which is why her job as executive assistant to Carson Miller is her saving grace. Well, that and moonlighting as a masked, highly elusive star DJ named Butterfly. Alex knows she shouldn't get too close to her boss, but she soon finds that the most forbidden things are usually the sweetest.

Billionaire Romance Contemporary BxG Office Romance Boss

Under the Cover of Darkness Free Chapters

Chapter 01 — Alexandra | Under the Cover of Darkness

It was the same house I grew up in, but somehow, it seemed colder, more frightening than usual.

I was in my upstairs bedroom cowering under my favorite Bratz duvet while I listened frightfully to the heavy footsteps ascending the stairs, intent on my room.

Tears coursed down my face as I silently pleaded for the angry man to leave me alone. Assuming the fetal position, I shut my eyes firmly.

I heard the creak of my door, and strangely, I could smell the alcohol from the man at the door through the thick material of the duvet over my head.

"Alex," he drew out the first vowel in my name. "You've been a naughty girl."

Suddenly, the duvet was yanked from me, leaving me cold and vulnerable to the man with the strange red eyes and feral smile. The scent of alcohol was almost choking at that point.

"Pl... ease," was all I could mutter through my torrent of tears.

He made a tsk sound, the animalistic smile still on his face before he lunged for my throat.

I bolted up in bed, breathing heavily, and scanned my dark surroundings. The fear still gripped my heart, so I switched on a light.

The light fell on my sparsely furnished bedroom and raw, unbelievably pleasant relief flooded my body. I tunneled my fingers through my damp hair and focused on slowing my erratic breathing.

Nightmares like that were starting to get more frequent, but there was nothing I could do about it short of going to a doctor. As twisted as it sounded, I would rather suffer incessant nightmares than go to a hospital.

A shadowy form moved to my left, and I drew back in fear. I was about to reach for my bedside lamp when the shape flew out of the dark and onto my leg.

I almost screamed before I made out Morgan's dark brown head on my lap. I clutched my heart. "Morgan! Don't do that please!"

He cocked his head at me as if saying 'what the heck did I do wrong?'. I chuckled and scratched his head.

Morgan was the brown cocker spaniel I rescued. His left eye looked normal, but the truth was he couldn't see a thing through it. He'd been the one constant in my life, and although I was too busy to appreciate him properly like he deserved, I loved him to pieces, and he knew it.

Suddenly overtaken by love for that shaggy, huge dog, I kissed him between the eyes. His tail perked up happily.

I took a deep breath and rubbed my eyes. Looking at the alarm clock on my bedside table, I saw the time was 5:08.

I didn't have to get ready for work for another two hours, so I got up and headed downstairs to the kitchen.

The house was tiny. Just a two-bedroom apartment I shared with my mom.

What it lacked in space it made up for in hominess. With its bright white walls with blue trimming and the small blue throw pillows on the couch, I couldn't ask for a better home.

I trudged to the kitchen that was separated from the living room by a high arc and sat on one of the four wooden bar stools surrounding the island.

Everywhere was still dark as I sat. This was my favorite part of the day, the time before the sun came up, and I was reminded of how hectic my life really was.

I went through my boss's schedule in my mind.

I worked as the executive assistant to Carson Miller, the CEO of Miller Inc., and the overall boss of the company that revolutionized the tech world by developing the first fully automated ambulances. Being his executive assistant, I got to manage and plan most of the details of his personal life, but since his work life was his personal life, I end up managing both.

He was a recluse when he wasn't out and about with various women, and frankly, I didn't see what they saw in him. Sure, he was good looking and rich, but that was where everything stopped.

After making a mental note to call Jeffrey Daniels' assistant and schedule a meeting, I decided I'd spent enough time in the dark and went upstairs for a shower.

After a warm shower and with the nightmare almost forgotten, I threw my dull brown hair into a bun and scanned the row of dresses in my closet.

I always did this even though my closet was filled with the same shade of grey dresses and skirts.

I chose a knee-length dress one with shimmery material and clumsily put it on, almost tripping over my feet. After, I stood in front of my floor-length mirror, another morning ritual I wanted to kick but somehow couldn't, and scanned my figure.

I always told myself that I wanted to see how I looked in my work clothes, but deep down, I knew that wasn't fully the reason. The truth was I wanted to check if my secret wish had come true and a part of my body had changed overnight.

But every morning, my hopes were dashed. I'd still wake up with too wide hips, skinny legs, and an almost non-existent bust. Every morning, my crystal blue eyes and long jaw would stare back at me tauntingly.

Backing away from the reflective material that brought the real me painfully to fore, I slipped on my one and only pair of black pumps and put my laptop in my black leather bag.

I connected my black ear buds into my phone, and after giving Morgan a kiss on the head, I was out of my room and down the stairs.

It was 6:30 when I locked the door and selected my “Serenade Me to the Lair of the Beast” playlist.

With Imagine Dragons' “Demons” blasting directly into my ears, I walked for half an hour until I got to my favorite Starbucks just two blocks from Miller Inc.

Pushing the door in, I took in the empty shop filled with the heady smell of coffee, and I instantly felt alive.

I had a stupid smile on my face as I walked to the counter. My favorite barista, Carmine, was wiping down the counter when he spotted my smile. Rolling his dark eyes upwards, he stopped what he was doing and leaned his elbows on the now clean counter.

"This is my kingdom come, this is my kingdom come," I started by way of greeting.

"Imagine Dragons, ‘Demons,’" he answered proudly with a shake of his curly black head.

"Very good!" I replied, impressed.

"It was too easy." An easy smile had slipped onto his cute face.

This was our standard morning procedure. It consisted of me coming in with a random song lyric and him trying and, until recently, failing miserably to identify it. Then I'd order two espressos and a cappuccino while he tried to score a date with me.

It wasn't like I couldn't date him; I just had a phobia for getting close to men. I'd been through some horrible stuff in the hands of the opposite sex, so I was taking an indefinite break from the whole relationship thing. I didn't want to hurt Carmine's feelings, so I just made up excuse after excuse. I realized that I hurt his feelings more by refusing, but it's a one-way street with me.

"The usual?" he asked.

"Yes, please."

He nodded and proceeded to start filling my order.

"So," he started, and I internally rolled my eyes. God, this guy is unrelenting. "I was planning on having a little party at my place, wanna come?"

I busied myself getting my purse out and digging around in it, so I didn't have to answer immediately.

As I pretended to get out some money to pay, I saw him drop the three coffees on the table with my peripheral vision, and I straightened out and dropped my purse in my bag.

"Maybe later, Carmine," I gave him a blinding smile and dropped the money on the table. Winking, I sashayed out.

As I crossed the threshold of the foyer towards the elevator, Bruno Mars was wailing into my ears.

I clicked the button for the 17th floor and waited. Miller Inc.'s headquarters was at the heart of Miami, an imposing 20 floored glass and steel high-rise. It stuck out like a finger in the sky.

The doors pushed open to reveal a pristine white lobby with white leather seats at the right, a table holding coffee and snacks was tucked at the left-hand corner and right in front was a shiny white marble tabletop with a swivel chair behind it.

Everything in here was so white I thought I'd stepped into heaven.

I quickened my steps and went through the hallway on the left. Stopping in front of the door marked CEO, I pushed it open.

It was empty and lit by a thin sliver of sunlight that managed to find its way through the thick curtains covering the glass walls. Three of the four walls were made of glass because Carson said it made his office less like a prison and his work less like hard labor.

Sometimes, I didn't understand why he was so moody, it wasn't like he had problems. I took care of all of those!

Putting my boss out of mind, I settled the coffee in the middle of the desk and turned on the desk lamp.

With the light of the lamp and Ed Sheeran in my ears, I drew the left curtain open and stood looking out into the world below. I sighed. It was times like this that I enjoyed my job. Times when I didn't have to worry about arranging drama-filled family meetings or organizing impromptu trips to South Africa.

I finished opening the curtains and arranged his desk. When I was done, I hurriedly popped over to my office that was separated from his by a wall of frosted glass and a brown door, the only one in this building so far, and set down both my coffees.

Before I left, I finished one in a gulp, grateful for the caffeine in my veins.

At exactly 8:00, the private elevator in Carson Miller's office pinged opened and out walked the devil himself quietly speaking to the Bluetooth headset on his ear.

At the sight of him my stomach plummeted. Sigh! Another workday begins, Lexa.

He sighted me standing in front of his desk and nodded at me before taking his seat behind the table.

He kept talking about construction and machines while I looked him over to ascertain what mood he was in.

His strong jaw was locked as a muscle twitched sporadically on his forehead, his grey gaze was directed, unseeing, to something behind me. He was dressed in a tailored suit that screamed expensive coupled with a white shirt that had its top buttons undone. He gave off the domineering businessman without even trying.

After the silence lasted for what felt like days, he sighed and pressed the button on the headset. Finally, he turned his intense gaze to me.

"Crap! I thought I could beat you coming in today. Guess I'm really out of my league in that category. Don't you ever sleep?" One of his dark eyebrows lifted. His voice was too low and gentle and so did not match the image he presented. At all.

"And a very good morning to you too, Mr. Miller. I did sleep fine, thanks for asking. The sun is already up, so we can expect a blistering day with temperatures in the thirties, and to be honest, I don't think it's fair that only roosters are allowed to start the day screaming."

Rule number one of working efficiently with Carson Miller: always have a joke handy. He'll never laugh at it but at least it puts him in the only mood I can work with—a good one.

"You and me both, sister," he shook his head and ran a hand through his black hair.

I felt the air shift in my favor and took in an inaudible breath.

"So, Miss Holdman, it's a whole hour before anyone comes in. How about we get some work done?" His bored eyes defeated his enthusiastic tone.

"I'm shaking with anticipation," I replied in the same fashion.

I hate Mondays.

Chapter 02 — Carson | Under the Cover of Darkness

I hate Mondays.

The day was my worst in the entire week. I mean, who likes Mondays?

Somehow, people always seem to still live in the weekend on Mondays.

So, for a full ten hours, I was on my heels, correcting other people's ridiculous mistakes.

There was the case of a lost shipment of silicon in Germany, a mishap with one of the robots in New York, and apparently, an employee got knocked off his feet in Tampa trying to dodge a crane's load that had accidentally swung in the wrong direction. Luckily, he only sustained a few minor injuries. Which was good since the last thing I needed was a litigation.

By 8, I was completely exhausted and sat rubbing the bridge of my nose. Every muscle in my body ached at the simple action of moving my hand back and forth.

I heard my door open, the click of heels on the marble floor and the dull thud of something flat hitting my desk.

I opened my eyes through my fingers and found Alex standing before me with that her usual impassive look. She'd been working for me for four years now, and I still couldn't tell what she was thinking at any point in time.

Of course, it didn't matter what she thought as long as she did her job well, but I did wonder a few things about her. Like why she always wore the same unflattering shade of grey no matter what clothing item it was, how she always knew the right random thing to say at the right random time, and what on earth she was always listening to with those black earbuds in her ears.

"I've arranged a meeting with Jeffrey Daniels, the man your mother wanted you to speak with? Also, I just got off the phone with a Patricia. She sounded really upset; I think you should call her back."

I groaned. Could this day get any worse?

Patricia was my newest what's-her-name.

What's-her-names were women I used to fill the yawning, black void in my soul. I called them that because I never seemed to remember their names after a week. If they lasted that long.

Truth be told, I didn't enjoy using women, unlike the media so untruthfully relays. I just craved human contact, but since the only friends I actually enjoyed being around lived almost a million miles away, and these women practically threw themselves at me, who was I to say no and disappoint them?

I really didn't know what these women saw in me that after a week of breaking up with them, they still called to find out if I was actually serious, which shows they knew nothing about me. Because if they did, they'd know that once I made up my mind, nothing could change it.

"If she calls again, tell her I'm dead."

"Do I get to make up how you died?" Alex's face morphed into the only other expression I was sure she could muster: fake enthusiasm.

I wanted to laugh, but lately, it just seemed that the void managed to swallow the sound and any form of happiness before it escaped and appeared on my face.

"Whatever, just make sure she doesn't get two kilometers near me."

She nodded. "It's getting really late; would you like me to order you some dinner?"

I glanced at the little wooden antique clock I got from my mom for my twenty-fifth birthday. It said 9:40.

"No, it's fine. You should go home. I'll finish up here."

Something I said must have shocked her as she drew back, her mouth forming a small 'o.'

"Are you actually serious?" she asked wide-eyed.

I narrowed my eyes in warning. Taking this cue, she straightened out and cleared her throat. "Gee, I don't know what to say. Thanks, I guess? I had plans anyways. See you tomorrow then."

I waved her off and started scanning through the documents she placed on my desk.

I didn't know how long had passed before my door opened again. I'd propped my stockinged feet up on my table, leaned back into my chair, and was reading by the light on my desk.

"I thought I told you to go home?" I questioned without looking up.

"Unfortunately, your royal bossiness, your stupid orders don't apply to me."

I snapped my head towards the masculine voice. With the light coming from the empty hallway behind him, he looked nothing more than a tall, slightly muscular silhouette.

Until he turned on the overhead light and I finally recognized the boyish smile and warm hazel eyes of Casper.

We went to the same high school and only recently reconnected. Unfortunately, Casper was a party animal, and we reconnected right when the black void got bigger and heavier to carry than usual, leading me to become as sociable as a lump of coal.

"Casper, what are you doing here at..." I consulted the clock. "Almost 10:30?"

"What does it look like? Saving your granny ass from becoming dust."

My face contorted into a frown. "I like my granny ass, thank you."

He shook his head and ambled over to the coat hanger by the door. Grabbing my leather jacket, he walked over and violently pushed my feet off the table. Handing me the jacket, he angled his head towards the door.

I groaned. "I'm sorry, Cas, but not today."

"Why not?" His brown hair fell over his eyes and gave him a fearful look.

"Because I'm in the middle of a shit storm here," I gesticulated towards my desk that was littered with brown files. "And I can't take a break."

"Of course, you can! It's just one drink. Besides, you've been so stick-up-my-ass serious lately, and I'm worried about you." His face softened. "Just one drink and I won't bother you anymore."

"What if I say no?"

"I can't force you, obviously, but guess who recently found out that a certain competitor is one wrong move on the stock market from complete bankruptcy?" The smug grin on his face told me everything. I immediately perked up at this news.

Casper was the editor-in-chief of Bus Daily, a magazine that was like our bible in the business world. It had everything a businessperson needed. From share values to stock market predictions, they wrote it all. If I was being honest with myself, that was partly the reason I became friends with Casper, and I suspected he knew.

"Which competitor?" I asked, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice.

"Uh-huh." He shook his head. "I'm not telling you until you have that drink with me."

"Are you kidding me?"

"Final chance, Carson. Get up and come have a drink with an old buddy, and I'll give you the scoop before we publish tomorrow." He made to leave.

"Fine! I'll come."

I pulled out my comfortable sneakers from their place under my desk and struggled into them all the while cursing Casper, the void in me, and life generally. I put on my jacket and joined him at the door.

"This better be worth it." I gave him my glare that I've been told says 'I'll rip you open and sell your organs in the black market if you test me.'

"Trust me, buddy; it's worth it." He clapped me on the back.

We took the elevator down while Casper filled me in on the details.

The big scoop he used to blackmail me into going out with him turned out to be mediocre, nothing I could actually use, and as I sat at the stuffy bar nursing a glass of scotch, I found that I couldn't really blame Casper for three reasons.

One, right from high school, he was known to do anything and everything to get what he wanted. Two, the void was working overtime right now, and three, while I wanted to get mad at him, a small part of me knew he was right. I've been cooped up either in my house or in my office, too lazy and tired to do anything but work, which in turn made me even more tired and lazy. Talk about vicious cycle.

I looked around the nightclub for something to do. Casper was nowhere to be seen, long since ditching me and losing himself in the throngs of people dancing on the dance floor.

I turned back to my drink and tried to tune out the heart-pounding bass, flashing lights, and the choking smell of alcohol and stale cigarette smoke.

As I stared into the yellowish-brown liquid in my glass wondering when I'd regressed to the point in my life where I'd feel lonely at a club, the tempo of the music slowed and allowed a giggle to reach me from my right.

It was the high-pitched laugh of a woman but what attracted me was the genuineness. Since I couldn't make the sound myself, it was only logical that other people's laughs fascinated me.

She had her hair down, a glorious mass of curls dyed in every color that covered her face. She was speaking with the bartender, her face pressed into his ear, so he could hear her over the almost-deafening music.

After a minute, the bartender nodded and turned his back to her. Seeing my chance, I leaned into her ear to talk to her.

"What's your poison?" I asked through her hair. It smelled just as glorious as it looked.

She leaned away, and just as I thought I was going to receive a slap for invading her private space, she threw her hands up and turned to me. "Why are people so fucking morbid these days? Going around asking what poison I take. Fine, if I was gonna kill myself, I'd use cyanide, happy now?"

I was too focused on her face to reply to her. Or what I could see of it anyways, because right above her nose, framing her beautiful eyes was a pink, intricately designed mask. She seemed so odd in a place like this.

Suddenly, my brain clicked, and I processed what she'd said.

"Oh my god, no! That's not what I meant. It was a figure of speech!" I shook my head, but I couldn't help the curving on my mouth.

I froze.

That was the first time in a while that I'd ever smiled, and somehow, this unusual woman with her rainbow hair and strange mask managed to bring out something I'd thought I'd lost the ability to do.

I looked at her in awe. Who are you?

"Really?" She frowned.

"Yes, it means what liquor do you prefer not what poison would you use to kill yourself."

"Well, if that's what it means, then I'm right to take it literally because alcohol is poison."

She said it with so much conviction that I was unsure of how to reply.

Eventually, I was able to think clearly. "Why do you think that?" I asked.

By then, we were sitting with our heads bent together, so we could hear each other over the music. I had to repeatedly remind myself to concentrate on her face, not the feel of her soft skin against my leg or her warm breath on my cheek.

"I don't have to tell you why. All I know is that a slow, painful death awaits you at the bottom of the bottle."

I was about to respond when one of the many flashing pink lights crossed my face. I blinked to moisten my eyes, and I saw her take a sharp, panicked breath.

"What's wrong?" I frowned at her wide eyes.

"I have to go!"

And just like that, she left her seat and hurried out, disappearing among the dancers.

I turned to ask the bartender who she was, but he was nowhere to be found.

After she left, I could feel myself going back to my default mode, the void rebooting itself and all traces of the way I felt talking with her going down the void like it was being flushed down a dark toilet.

There was only one thing on my mind: I have to find her.