Under the CEO's Desk

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Monday morning meeting. The CEO made a slip of the tongue. Dead silence. I was the only one cracking up.

His face darkened. Blair, repeat what I just said ten times.

Me:

Late night in the master bedroom, the tables turned. He loosened his expensive, handmade silk tie, sitting on the edge of the bed with his legs slightly apart. His burning gaze locked onto me from below, while I stared down at him from a position of absolute dominance.

I planted my hands on my hips. "Tristan, copy the Wife's Rules ten times."

The CEO: ""

Chapter 1

Tristan and I were an arranged marriage. A business transaction. His family had money. My family had money.

We got together so we could both have even more money.

It had been three months since the wedding, and I had a tiny, nagging problem.

I thought I was falling for Tristan.

It should have been perfectly normal. The man had a face that belonged on a billboarda lethal weapon guaranteed to make anyone surrender at second glance. I lasted three whole months. I deserved a medal for my iron will.

And honestly, it should have been a good thing. He was already my husband. A marriage with actual feelings usually lasted longer than a cold, transactional one.

But

We had a prenup! Actually, we had a mountain of prenups. Neither of our families were easy targets. There were so many asset division documents I practically got carpal tunnel from signing my name.

But the one that really bothered me was the private agreement Tristan and I drafted together. The rules for our married life.

Tristan's demand was simple: be a proper wife. My demands for him boiled down to three rules. First, play the perfect couple in public.

Second, never question each other's private schedules. Third, under no circumstances cross the line and fall in love.

When I signed that paper, I was so sure I could just live my best, glamorous pseudo-single life even after tying the knot. I never expected I'd be the first one to break the rules and catch feelings. Talk about a slap in the face. Being a sucker for a handsome face was a curse!

Once I realized my little crush on Tristan, being around him got incredibly awkward. My eyes just naturally drifted to him. Before, we used to mind our own business at home. Total peace.

He'd review his corporate accounts, and I'd research my skincare routines. But now, my mind kept spinning. Knowing he was just down the hall in his study, I'd find myself inexplicably compelled to bring him a plate of fruit. Or a cup of coffee.

Tristan took off his gold-rimmed glasses and pressed his fingers to his temples. He looked up at me. "Do you need a favor?"

His deep gaze swept over the slightly open neckline of my pajamas. His Adam's apple bobbed almost imperceptibly before his expression smoothed back into that perfect, icy mask.

"No," I denied immediately, before catching myself. I chewed on my bottom lip. "Yes."

"Spit it out." He leaned back in his chair. He reached out, took the coffee I handed him, and took a sip. A slight frown formed on his forehead.

"Not to your taste?" I asked.

"Too sweet," he noted.

I frowned. I barely put any sugar in it.

Under his expectant stare, I cut to the chase. "I want a job at your company. Just find me a position."

This was Rowan's brilliant advice. My breezy, rich-wife routine of shopping and afternoon teas wasn't going to snare a workaholic husband like Tristan.

If I wanted him to fall head over heels for me, I needed to be in his line of sight 24/7. Not just at night. During the day, too.

I knew exactly what I was doing. I leaned in and offered, "How about your secretary?"

Tristan choked slightly, as if a sudden thought had crossed his mind. He stated flatly, "No."

My lips naturally pushed out into a pout.

"You can come to my office and be my assistant." He leaned back in his chair, his long fingers tapping lightly against the desk. A barely noticeable dark gleam flashed through his deep eyes. "The kind that's on call twenty-four hours a day."

"" An assistant it was. At least I successfully infiltrated his inner circle.

Chapter 2

Soon enough, I became an official employee at the Executive Office of Sunrise Corporation.

I traced my thumb over the glossy surface of my ID badge, my lips curling into a grin as I stared at the words "Executive Assistant" printed below my name. I was just one wall away from Tristan's office. The perfect proximity to hover right under his nose.

My victory lap didn't last long. I quickly realized the fatal flaw in my master plan.

Nobody stepped foot inside the CEO's office without a direct summons, and Tristan rarely lowered himself to wander around our bullpen. If he needed someone, he just hit the intercom. I went the entire day without catching a single glimpse of him.

At this rate, I'd be dead and buried before I managed to seduce my workaholic husband.

I vented my frustrations to Rowan. She didn't hold back.

"Other people get calls for actual business. You haven't even touched a single file folder all day. What, you expect Tristan to call you on the company line just to flirt?"

Just the word "flirt" made heat prickle the back of my neck. I gritted my teeth. "If he calls, I'll flirt right back."

Speak of the devil.

The moment the words left my mouth, my intercom buzzed. His cold, velvety voice resonated through the speaker. "Bring me a coffee."

Click. The line went dead. Zero time for flirting.

I cursed the arrogant jerk under my breath, but my feet were already moving toward the breakroom.

I knocked and pushed the door open. "Your coffee, sir."

"Leave it there." He jerked his chin toward his desk.

I dragged my feet, my eyes naturally gravitating toward him. He sat behind a massive mahogany desk, framed by a wall-to-wall bookshelf. His head was bowed slightly, his long fingers gripping a gold-trimmed fountain pen as he scribbled on a document. He still wore the immaculate three-piece suit, the navy-blue striped tie perfectly knotted at his throatthe exact tie I had fastened for him this morning.

I set the mug down near his hand. As he reached for it, his blistering fingertips brushed casually against the back of my hand. He pushed his chair back, his predatory gaze instantly locking onto mine. "Getting used to it?"

"It's a bit boring," I answered honestly.

"I figured you'd prefer an easy job."

I met his eyes. "I'd rather be busy."

Busy finding excuses to hover over your desk, I added silently.

"Understood." He gave a slight nod.

My workload skyrocketed immediately. Every single coffee run and document delivery landed right on my desk. I was officially the office errand girl. But it gave me unlimited access to Tristan's office, so I wasn't complaining.

Afternoon break.

I stirred my black tea, listening to one of the girls tease me. "So, Blair, spill. What was it like seeing the boss's face for the first time?"

I offered a faint smile. "My heart definitely skipped a beat."

It was the truth.

The first time I saw Tristan was at my father's charity gala. He arrived fashionably late, his expensive tailored suit jacket hooked casually over one finger. The hard lines of his muscles were faintly visible beneath his stark black dress shirt. He radiated an overwhelming, oppressive energy, smelling of sharp cedarwood mixed with tobacco.

A sudden breeze caught his hair, revealing the sharp, arrogant arch of his brow. He looked up, and the sheer magnetism in his eyes seemed to drain the color from the entire ballroom. That face was a weapon of mass destruction. Everyone completely forgot he was late, leaving him to mingle with the crowd with his signature untouchable grace.

"Better keep that heart in check," Sydney draped an arm over my shoulder, completely unbothered by personal space. "The boss is taken. He has a wife!"

"Really?" I feigned the perfect amount of shock.

Chapter 3

Though my marriage to Tristan was public knowledge, everyone only knew he married the heiress of the Shijia Group. They had no idea I was that heiress. I had my parents to thank for that; they always shielded me from the media circus so I could grow up happy and healthy.

"In the three months since he got married, the boss hasn't worked a single minute of overtime. He used to be a notorious workaholic. The guy basically squeezed forty-eight hours out of a single day."

I blinked, wanting to argue. Tristan might not be working overtime at the office, but he sure as hell worked overtime at home.

"Classic case of choosing the beauty over the empire," another colleague chimed in.

Sydney wiggled her eyebrows at me, practically vibrating with gossip. "We all think the boss must be madly in love with his wife. Otherwise, why would a workaholic like him clock out on the dot every single day? He's rushing home to his wife, obviously."

"" They were reading way too much into it. The reality was his wife was clocking in every day just to seduce her own husband.

To accelerate the seduction process, I put a lot of effort into my wardrobe. Designer power suits gradually took over an entire section of my walk-in closet. I wore a new outfit every day, strutting past Tristan's desk in a constant parade of high fashion.

I specifically picked out a skin-tight pencil skirt that perfectly hugged my waist and hips, paired with a silk shirt unbuttoned just enough at the collar. I made sure that the second he looked up, he'd be hit with a lethal view.

But this man was impossible. He showed zero signs of falling for it.

He kept that same poker face, that same workaholic attitude. He didn't even spare me a second glance.

Hitting a wall of sheer frustration, I dragged Rowan out for drinks.

Rowan took one look at my outfit and clicked her tongue. "Not gonna lie, Tristan's self-control is terrifying. You're a total smokeshow parading right under his nose all day, and he doesn't budge? Not even a flinch?!"

She scoffed. "Is his equipment broken? If it were me, I'd have thrown you on the desk by now!"

I chuckled, taking a slow sip of my martini. I arched an eyebrow. "Maybe he's just a frigid, useless robot with a God-tier face?"

"Never heard that rumor," Rowan analyzed. "If he batted for the other team, there'd be whispers in our circle."

I nodded in agreement, my lips pushing into an annoyed pout.

She threw an arm over my shoulder to comfort me. "How about a change of strategy? If you actually like him, just go after him.

Who cares who chases who? As long as you end up together, it's a win."

"Absolutely not," I refused flatly. "I don't strip my own clothes off in bed, and I sure as hell don't chase men."

Rowan burst out laughing. "What kind of twisted logic is that?"

I laughed with her. "It's called pride."

We literally signed a black-and-white contract explicitly stating we were in it for the money, not love. If I started chasing him like a desperate puppy after only three months, I'd never live it down.

Tristan had to be the one chasing me!

Rowan swirled her drink, her eyes gleaming with a new idea. "Why don't we test the waters? Play drunk."

I caught her drift instantly and nodded. "Bet."

I propped my chin on my hand, watching Rowan dial Tristan's number. She put on an Oscar-worthy performance, wailing about how I was wasted, causing a scene, and demanding he haul himself to the club to pick me up.

A single, crisp "Okay" came through the speaker.

While we waited, panic started creeping in. "He won't just send his driver, will he?"

Rowan scoffed. "If he does, then throw the whole man away."

She made a valid point. I nodded hard.

Chapter 4

While waiting for Tristan, I touched up my makeup. Flushed cheeks, slightly damp eyesI looked practically wasted.

The second Rowan's phone lit up, I instantly collapsed onto the table, watching Tristan appear at the entrance of the nightclub.

He looked like he'd just stepped out of the shower. His hair was still damp, and he'd ditched his stiff suits for simple, comfortable loungewear. He was striding toward us, phone in hand, wearing actual slippers.

I kept my eyes glassy, playing the drunk to perfection. Tristan swept me up, pulling me tight against his chest. "Why is she so drunk?" he asked Rowan.

"She's going through some things," I heard Rowan reply.

Her deadpan, tragic tone almost made me break character and laugh. I bit the inside of my cheek to hold it in, wrapping my arms around Tristan's neck and letting out soft, uneven breaths against his skin.

The arm banded around my waist instantly tightened. A visible trail of goosebumps erupted along his neck exactly where my breath grazed his skin.

I heard him clear his throat. "Are you okay?" he asked Rowan. "Do you need me to drop you off first?"

Rowan shook her head. "No need. My boyfriend is picking me up soon."

"We'll wait until he gets here," Tristan stated.

Rowan's boyfriend arrived shortly. Tristan ripped off his jacket and roughly wrapped it around my bare thighs. Then, his arm banded around my waist, and he hoisted me up, tossing me possessively over his broad shoulder. He strode out of the club with heavy, aggressive steps.

I buried my face in his neck. Remembering the "play drunk" strategy, I whined against his skin, my voice dripping with honey.

"Put me doooown. I wanna keep drinking~"

He froze. Every muscle in his body turned to solid granite. His jaw clamped shut as he gritted out a single word. "No."

His tone was icy.

I got a little mad. What the hell? I was acting all cute and pouty, and he was giving me this attitude? He definitely didn't like me.

I started squirming, fighting to get down. He refused to let go. He kept carrying me out, and by the time we reached the exit, we were in a tangled, half-dragged, half-carried mess.

He was finally pushed past his limit. He slammed me against the freezing concrete wall of the underground parking garage, his muscular thigh aggressively wedging itself between my knees. His calloused thumbs dug into the soft curve of my waist. His breathing was heavy and scalding, and a dangerous, territorial possessiveness surged in his deep eyes.

I didn't want to look at him, so I turned my head away.

He clamped a hand around my jaw, forcing my face back to his. He enunciated every single word with deadly seriousness.

"No. More. Drinking. In. Public."

I didn't say a word. I just stared at him.

My gaze traced his sharp brow, the straight line of his nose, and finally landed on his lips. They looked so incredibly kissable.

Why were they so red?

Suddenly, his Adam's apple took a hard dive. His eyes darkened into something deeply dangerous.

It hit me like a lightning bolt

Oh, his equipment worked perfectly fine.

After that night at the club, Tristan and I still didn't make much progress.

But my confidence was through the roof.

After all, the man practically had "Conquerable" stamped across his forehead now.

Except, before I could conquer Tristan, I accidentally conquered someone in the Executive Office.

Tristan had two male executive assistants, Simon and Lawrence, who were his top choices for business trips. Simon was married, and Lawrence was single. And for some inexplicable reason, Lawrence had developed a massive crush on me.

I swore I hadn't done a single thing to encourage him. I barely even spoke two sentences to the guy. But lately, he kept finding excuses to hover around my desk, dropping off elaborate little gifts, and turning beet red the second we made eye contact.

I was out here trying to catch a billionaire, but somehow hooked an assistant instead!

I really didn't want any unnecessary drama. The very next day, I quickly slipped my diamond wedding band on before heading to work, sending a crystal-clear message that I was officially off the market.

Amidst the busy, fulfilling days, Tristan's grandfather's eightieth birthday banquet rolled around.

The event was held in the grand hall of the main family estate.

Tristan and I arrived early. We linked arms, flawlessly playing the role of the devoted, newlywed couple as we mingled and exchanged pleasantries with every guest who came to pay their respects.

Chapter 5

After a few rounds of drinks, Tristan leaned in close to my ear. "Holding up okay?"

I was perfectly fine, but I couldn't resist the urge to whine a little. "My feet are killing me," I mumbled.

"Go take a break." He smoothly plucked the glass from my handwhich looked like champagne but was actually just sparkling water. "I've got the rest of this covered."

I shot him a look. "A trophy wife isn't supposed to vanish halfway through the show."

A rare, genuine smile broke through his icy facade. "You've been exceptional tonight."

Glad he knew what was good for him, I left satisfied. I hid on the plush couch in the VIP lounge, aggressively rubbing my sore calves. Five-inch stilettos were truly a medieval torture device.

After a short nap and a quick makeup touch-up, I walked out of the lounge and bumped right into my childhood friend, Finnick.

I pretended not to see him and brushed right past.

He caught up in a few strides, a flattering smile plastered on his face. "What? Don't recognize me after a few years? Pretending I'm invisible?"

I crossed my arms and glared. "Do I know you?"

He laughed. "We literally grew up together. Does that count?"

"Then where were you at my wedding? What kind of best friend pulls that?"

"I was stuck out of the country!" he pleaded. "It was a real emergency. Come on, your highness, I'll make it up to you.

Just name your price. What do I have to do to get off your hit list?"

"Hmph," I scoffed, shooting him a dirty look.

I tightened my jaw, refusing to give him a free pass just yet. Still, if Finnick was going to grovel so beautifully, I had to milk it for all it was worth.

A few more rounds of banter, and the ice was completely broken. He walked shoulder-to-shoulder with me back toward the banquet hall. "Tristan must be feeling pretty damn smug about marrying you, huh?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"He finally bagged the girl of his dreams. How could he not be?"

"Excuse me?"

He froze in his tracks. "You didn't know?"

The blood drained from his facethe classic "I just screwed up big time" look.

The pieces instantly clicked together in my brain. "Are you saying Tristan has had a crush on me this whole time?"

"I didn't say a word!" He slapped both hands over his mouth.

"Spill." I narrowed my eyes, stepping into his personal space to crank up the intimidation factor.

He lasted about three seconds before crumbling. "Okay, fine! Yes! But you absolutely cannot tell Tristan I told you!"

Over the next few minutes, I was treated to an entirely different version of my own history.

Tristan had been harboring a massive crush on me for years. He was the mastermind who orchestrated this entire arranged marriage in the first place.

That calculating bastard!

No wonder he walked around the house in low-slung sweatpants with his abs practically on display after his showers. He was doing it on purpose! He had been baiting the hook this entire time!

And like an absolute idiot, I swallowed it whole. Not only did I catch feelings, but I'd spent the last month actively trying to seduce him!

Talk about a monumental screw-up!

I took a deep breath, forcing my racing heart to slow. Once I shoved my chaotic emotions back into a perfectly curated box, I pushed the heavy doors open and re-entered the ballroom.

The hall was a sea of clinking glasses and polite laughter.

Tristan stood next to his grandfather, the man of the hour. His broad back was to me as he held a champagne flute, exchanging pleasantries with a guest. Even from behind, his tall, broad-shouldered silhouette was infuriatingly gorgeous.

I pitched my voice into the sweetest, most sickeningly sugary tone I could muster. "Hubby~~~"

His broad shoulders visibly flinched. A few drops of champagne sloshed over the rim of his glass.

I bit back a wicked smile and practically glided toward him.

You want to play the seduction game, Tristan? Let's see who's the better predator.

Chapter 6