Chapter One

Isabella jerked up from her bed. 

“Oh shit!” She cursed….

It was seven-thirty and she should have been done with dressing for work. It was horrible because she was supposed to be on her way now or risk being late. She couldn’t afford to be late, not today.

Isabella jumped down and quickly headed for the bathroom. It was then she realized she was still in last night’s outfit, or rather, identity.

She barely remembered all that had happened the previous night.

She had gotten shit drunk and dozed off without setting her alarm.

Inside her bathroom, Isabella looked at herself through the big mirror placed above the vanity top.

“I look like shit,” she said, brushing away strands of hair from her face. “But not just me, though.”

Isabella raised a brow and smirked.

Biting her bottom lip while making a funny face, she scoured around the space.

From the bathroom hamper, down to her room, and her entire apartment.

She needed to tidy up; she thought. Everything was out of order. Her life was so rushed on a daily basis that she couldn’t find the time for herself.

She dispersed her beddings and every other thing on top of it, searched for clean sheets and remade the bed.

Having almost all of her wardrobe scattered on the bed and floor was definitely not normal. Leaving the wardrobe door wide open always was not too.

The black marble floors had cans of food littered all over. The trash can was always pouring, and of course, there was Billy, her big German shepherd. He did a great job of making sure all the trash didn’t last in the trash.

She moved to her dressing table. Her makeup set was turned over, and her combs had a bush of hair everywhere on it.

Isabella picked one up and wrinkled her nose at the thick bush of hair in it.

Everything was a total mess!

“I can’t be doing this now, not now. Ughh!” she said to herself, moving away from her table.

She checked her bedside clock: seven-forty

She had barely twenty minutes left to be at her office desk. Her heart beat thumped harder in her chest.

Isabella already knew it wouldn’t be possible to achieve all she had to do in such a short time. She was going to be royally screwed, eventually.

But then, she could be twenty minutes late just for today, she calculated. Her boss never complained. Today won’t make any difference, after all. Right?...

Richard, her boss, was such a darling and everyone loved him.

She took a shower in a flash. There was no time to deliberate on what to wear, so she settled for a blue silk blouse tucked into a black palazzo trouser.

Isabella complimented the outfit with a pair of silhouette pumps. She knew it would go a long way in changing her brief size narrative. She was petite and heels were her only saving grace.

She styled her long brown hair in a side-parted ponytail, which always defined her round, pretty face.

She stood before the vanity mirror, taking herself in. Everything stood out. Isabella knew she had a rare beauty. She relished how her sparkling green eyes matched her top.

She smiled. Isabella loved what she saw in the mirror.

Her phone beeped on the table, and a text from Kate popped up.

Isabella opened it and frowned. 

“Where the fuck are you? Get here now or the devil will be let loose!”

“I am Claude Lincoln. I succeeded Richard Harvey, and you will work under me starting today.”

“I don’t understand. What happened to Mr. Richard?”

“Miss Campbell, I’m afraid but that is not your concern.” He gave a tight smile, and she withdrew. 

Claude Lincoln was trying to give her the impression that he was anything but friendly.

“I’ll keep it quick.” He picked some files from the table. “I don’t take lateness kindly. Things have changed around here, and if you value your job, you’d better listen.”

“I apologise, Mr. Lincoln, but traffic was—”

He raised a finger, smiling but without humour. “One more thing. I don’t care about your excuses. The next time you’re late, I’m cutting your pay. If it repeats, I will walk you out the door myself.”

He looked her straight in the eye and drew closer to the desk, resting his arms.

“I understand Richard was lenient with all of you. Now I’m not threatening to be a thorn in anyone’s flesh, but I have my rules, and they cannot be broken if you love your job.”

He relaxed in his chair and gazed at her, jutting his chin.

“I’m sorry, sir, but your words sound so much like a threat, and I don’t take threats lightly.”

She didn’t avert her gaze or cower under his hard stare, not even for a second. Isabella challenged the arrogant man in his seat.

Claude clicked his tongue and scoffed out a chuckle. “I don’t care how you take threats, Miss Campbell.”

She couldn’t believe him. This man irked her to the bones.

“I just don’t need my employee showing up late to work every day with a lipstick stain on her shirt. I’d prefer strict professionalism from now henceforth.”

Isabella couldn’t find her footing. She was flustered and mortified as she searched her clothing. There was no stain. She didn’t see anything, and she had felt enraged with the way he had played with her mind so easily.

Then, Claude stood in all of his glorious height. He made a curve around the table and came to her side. Resting against the table’s edge, he tipped her chin to find her face.

Isabella lost herself in his fierce gaze. Time stopped around her. She couldn’t understand what was happening.

Claude left her chin and traced the v-cut neck of her blouse with the same finger. She gulped. She couldn’t breathe. Heat warmed her cheeks. Her blood pumped through her veins at a rate of knots. 

His hands were so close. Just a little more and he would find where her nipples were like hard points.

He stopped in line with her collarbone, then he smiled. Mischief danced in his eyes. “There it is.”

She angled her neck and lifted the flap to find the stain. It was deep and blaring red. She had never felt so embarrassed in a long while. Everyone had seen her wear a stain that bold so confidently. Isabella cringed inwardly.

“I’ll wash this off right away. It won’t happen again.”

He cast a small smile. His expression was cryptic. “That rife blouse, don’t wear it before me again, ever.”

Isabella’s face washed into a grimace. Who did he think he was? He was belittling her and being narcissistic? People like him disgusted her.

Isabella fumed like a boiling pot. “My choice of clothes isn’t your concern, Mr. Robbins.” 

He stood and returned to his side of the desk. 

“No? It’s my office, Miss Campbell. My rules,” he said. “You’re either okay with that or I can sign your letter of resignation right now.”

With that, she stared at him one last time and took her leave, letting her heels click with extra force on the tiled ground. 

She hated him. She hated him with a passion as fat as his bank account.