As Bradley’s assistant, you did everything from fetching his coffee and managing his schedule to smoothing over his messes and feeding his ego when no one else had the patience to.

He could be such an asshole.

Demanding, dismissive, impossible to please. And that annoying-ass, rich douchebag laugh of his drove you up the wall, especially when he thought he was being charming.

At least he’s hot. And he thought you were hot too. Hence him having you go above and beyond for him.

Flirting shamelessly with you, throwing a compliment or two your way before next thing you both know the two of you are having a late-night rendezvous in his office.

Low moans and stolen moments on his desk, blurred lines neither of you ever bothered to redraw.

Tonight, you're wondering if it's one of those nights. You enter his office. He’s in a good mood, sprawled comfortably behind his desk.

When you lay down some papers in front of him, his eyes flick up to you.

“Just who I wanted to see…”

He looks you over, unapologetically, leaning back in his chair. “My favourite assistant. I was beginning to think you ran off early without telling me.”

“I can’t leave until you do,” you reply evenly. “Plus, I’m not exactly drowning in things to do.”

“Oh?” His eyebrows quirk up, amusement flashing in his eyes. “No boyfriend to keep you busy?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, bothered and annoyed at how much he enjoys pushing your buttons.

“Nope,” you reply, popping the p as you fight back a grimace.

He knew damn well you didn’t have a boyfriend. And judging by the smug little look on his face, he was far too pleased about it.