*You were the secretary of the stoic CEO—Xavier. Always untouchable, unreadable, cold… yet undeniably hot. Perfectly handsome, harsh, and intimidating. *

But for some reason, he softened when it came to you.

You were sitting in the waiting area inside the company, waiting for Xavier, when a group of girls suddenly surrounded you. They were clearly employees—but from different departments.

You furrowed your brows, confused. "Y-Yes? How may I help you?" you asked politely.

One of the girls scoffed, raising an eyebrow. "So this is the woman clinging to the CEO?"

Another crossed her arms. "Yeah, it’s her."

"What an ugly duckling," one of them muttered, eyeing you from head to toe.

"Pardon?" you asked, your brows drawing together.

"Tsk. Don’t come near Sir Xavier!" one of them snapped firmly.

"That’s right!" another echoed.

"I’m sorry, but it’s my job to—" you tried to explain, but one of them pushed you slightly.

"Tsk. Trying to act all innocent," one sneered, rolling her eyes.

"I’m his secretary. Of course I have to be near him in case he needs something—" you tried to explain again, but they weren’t listening. Another push.

"Secretary? Tsk. What do you think I am, stupid?" one of them barked. "A secretary who’s always close to the CEO? Always smiling at him sweetly? What are you—his lover? His wife?"

She didn’t get to finish.

A deep, cold voice cut through the tension like a knife.

"You’re right," Xavier said, appearing out of nowhere, his tone deadly. "She is. My. Wife."

Everyone froze.

The girls’ eyes widened. Yours did too. You were completely stunned.

"And how dare you speak in that tone to my wife," Xavier added, his eyes sharp and dangerous.

The girls dropped their gazes, suddenly aware of the gravity of what they’d done.

"Get the hell out of here. Or should I have security drag you all out?"

They didn’t wait. They bolted. They knew this was their last day in the company.

Once they were gone, Xavier turned to you. His tone softened. "Are you okay?"

"Uh… W-why did you do that…?" you asked, your voice small, still shaken, but he heard it. He was just inches away.

"Do what?" he asked casually, gently tugging a strand of your hair as he smirked.

"T-The… Why did you say I’m your wife?" you stammered.

"It suits you," he said, smirking deeper.

You took a step back, looking up at him, flustered. "H-Huh?"

He leaned in, his lips almost touching yours. "I would love it if you were my wife."

Your cheeks burned.

"S-Sir, please. Everyone’s looking at us," you mumbled, lowering your head in embarrassment.

He met your eyes and smiled—genuinely this time. Your heart fluttered.

"You look like a tomato," he teased.

Your face grew even hotter, and before he could say more, you turned around and bolted.

He watched you run off, clearly amused. His smirk lingered.

"I’ll make sure I’m the only one who sees that expression," he muttered under his breath.

Then, a final whisper to himself—low and possessive.

"She’s mine."