Alas! The missing piece to our prologue has revealed itself! Now we no longer have to guess how the night ended. A well-deserved gift for my loyal supporters. Thank you for reading My Unlovable Boss, comments, ratings, feedback, shares and much more are genuinely appreciated. Keep reading My Unlovable Boss and I'll see you next time :)
Willow Goods.Alaric’s POV.I storm down the marble corridor, the distant hum of office chatter fading behind me. Each step feels heavier, as if I’m wading through treacle. The echoes of disappointment from my brief encounter with Matilda gnaw at me, a persistent itch I can’t quite reach.I reach my office, a sleek, modern space that mirrors my mood—a sterile shell devoid of warmth. The walls, adorned with framed accolades and motivational quotes, mock me with their cheerful optimism. A heavy sigh escapes my lips as I sink into my leather chair, fingers raking through my hair in frustration. I should have known better than to expect anything from her.Just then, the door creaks open, and Javier slips inside, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity. “You good, man?” he asks, leaning against the doorframe.“Yeah, peachy,” I reply flatly, my gaze fixed on the city skyline, where dark clouds loom like shadows, mirroring my mood.“Look, I get that the inauguration didn’t go as planned
Willow Goods.Matilda’s POV.He coughs, taken aback by my question. Normally, I would never confront someone this way, especially not my boss. But since we met, he has been nothing but rude, arrogant, and downright obnoxious. I refuse to sit here and let him bully me for no reason. Aaliyah was right about that night; maybe we did something together, and his ego must be bruised since I haven’t mentioned it. If that’s the case, we might as well talk about it now.“Why would I like you?” He picks up his cup, taking a sip of water to calm his cough. “Because we had sex,” I deadpan.I flinch as he sputters, water spraying from his mouth, eyes wide with shock. “When did we have se… when did we do such a thing?!” He slams his cup on the desk, avoiding my gaze.Look at him, acting like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He’s been rude since the first time we met, annoyingly composed as well, but now he’s flustered for the first time. I’ve never been more certain of the reaso
Willow Goods.Matilda’s POV.My stomach twists as I realise my mistake. In the heat of the moment, I’d spoken to him too casually. "I apologise, sir. I didn’t mean to, sir." I bite out the last "sir" so he hears it loud and clear.He shakes his head slowly. "One strike. Lack of basic respect and offering excuses instead of a sincere apology. That’s not the type of secretary I want."I stare at him, stunned. A strike, just for that? “I’ll be more careful in the future, sir. How would you prefer to be addressed, sir?”"Mr. Willow works just fine," he says, his tone as impersonal as ever.I nod stiffly. "Understood, Mr. Willow. Is there anything else you'd like to add, Mr. Willow?""If there was, I’d tell you, Miss James. You may leave." He picks up a document, turning his chair away dismissively."Yes, Mr. Willow. As you wish, Mr. Willow." I stand up, my words edged with a forced politeness.As soon as I’m out of his office, I close the door softly and let out a quiet sigh. This man is g
Willow Goods.Matilda’s POV.“Mr. Willow, here’s the draft for the schedule you requested for the upcoming month.” I offer the iPad with a steady hand, though my heart races in my chest, a frantic drumbeat that feels impossible to silence. The sleek device feels heavy in my grip, a physical manifestation of the pressure I’m under. “It’s just a draft; I’ve accounted for unpredictable meetings and agendas.” He glances up at me, suspicion etched across his features, his brow furrowing slightly. “That was fast,” he murmurs, scrolling through the document with practised ease that sends a flutter of nerves through me. I hold my breath, watching his fingers dance over the screen, a silent plea in my mind that he’ll approve. The air in the office is thick with tension, the hum of the overhead lights only amplifying my anxiety. “Did Mr. Santos assist you?” His voice is sharp, and his gaze pierces my skin like ice, leaving me momentarily frozen in place. I fidget, caught between honesty and f
Willow Goods.Matilda’s POV.It’s been three days since I waged war against Mr. Willow.Three days of waiting for his next move, his next task.Three days of endless anticipation.Three days of oppressive silence.After I confront him, he doesn’t speak to me for the rest of the day, and since then, he’s been deliberately avoiding me. I hadn’t expected that. His sudden shift from obnoxious to completely silent is disorienting. The quiet feels heavier, more unnerving.“I wonder what devious scheme he’s hatching in that office,” I mutter as the elevator doors slide open.A cold gust of air greets me, sending a shiver down my spine. Goosebumps ripple across my skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the building. The atmosphere feels wrong, as if a storm is brewing just beyond the horizon—an ominous warning of what fate has in store for me. “Will I suffer today?” I voice my unease, the unsettling chill gnawing at my nerves, as if the very air is pressing in, mocking me with its silence.A
Lie Blu Apartment.Matilda’s POV.“What happened next?” Aaliyah asks, her eyes bright with gleeful curiosity, practically bouncing in her seat. “Did you finally crack? Or did he—” she lowers her voice conspiratorially, “—confess his undying admiration?”“Nothing,” I snap, trying to sound indifferent. But my mind drifts back to that last, maddening moment in his office. After tossing my own words back at me, he dismissed me without so much as a glance. Typical.I swear, it was like his personal mission that day was to torment me, to needle me for as long as he could stand it. His infuriating smirk plays on a loop in my mind, and I huff, irritation prickling up my spine.“Oh, come on!” Aaliyah groans, throwing her hands up in mock despair. “Nothing? Not even a single snarky comeback? Matilda, you’re killing me here!”I give her a look, crossing my arms. “My so-called ‘tortuous’ life isn’t the thrill ride you seem to think it is. Go on, Aly, feel free to swap places with me and take on th
Willow Goods.Matilda’s POV.“Right, Matilda. You can do this,” I mutter under my breath, a firm pep talk echoing in the stillness of the elevator. “You’re a powerful, brilliant, and beautiful woman who’s been steering her own ship through life’s choppy seas for ages. Some spoiled boss isn’t about to capsize you. Not now, not ever.” The elevator doors glide open, and I’m greeted by the cold quiet of the office floor. A chill of foreboding nudges at me, but I refuse to let it stick. “Last week, you had your fun, Mr. Willow,” I say, barely concealing my smirk as if he can actually hear me. “But this week? Victory is mine.” I stride towards the office door, shoulders squared. Today, I’m no pushover.I push open the door with newfound resolve. “Good morning, Javier!” I say brightly, dropping my things onto the desk with a flourish. “Did you have a great weekend or what?”Javier blinks at me, his copper eyes wide, surprise written all over his face. “Um… Matilda?”“Yes, Javier?” I ask, a
Willow Goods.Third Person POV.A handful of employees spring to their feet energetically. “CEO Willow!” they chime, with one nudging a colleague who stays seated, clearly pretending not to notice.The man finally stands, stretching with an exaggerated yawn. “Ah, CEO Willow!” he says, smoothing his shirt. “Forgive me, I was so engrossed in my work, I didn’t even notice you there.” His grin stretches wide, his attempt at casualness painfully obvious.Unperturbed, Alaric meets his gaze. “I can see you’re working hard.” The man lets out a loud, braying laugh. “Of course! People like us are the backbone of the company—keeping things running so people have food on their tables!” He points dramatically between himself and Alaric, wiggling his eyebrows. “In fact, some say we look alike,” he adds, puffing out his chest.He’s a middle-aged man with thinning hair, a wide nose, and crow’s feet that deepen as he grins, evidently pleased with himself. His shirt stretches across his belly, and his