Part 1Rejecting My Secretly Toxic Ex Boss

I was dead broke, which is how I ended up taking a job as a professional punching bag.

Before I agreed to show up, I texted the broker, my fingers hovering hesitantly over the screen: Is his temper really that bad?

His reply was grim: It’s off the charts. Unhinged.

So, I showed up to the location armed with oversized sunglasses, a black face mask, and a baseball cap pulled low, fully prepared to get screamed at for cash.

Then I walked on set and saw the director. It was my gentle, kind-hearted, flawlessly perfect ex-boyfriend.

* * *

"That's him?" My voice betrayed a slight tremble.

The man standing next to me crossed his arms, following my gaze to the director’s chair. "Yep."

Max shot me a sideways glance, his brow furrowing at my ridiculous getup. "Is all the spy gear really necessary?"

I gritted my teeth behind the mask. "Getting screamed at in public is humiliating."

Thank God I had the foresight to come fully disguised. No matter how high the hourly rate was, there was absolutely no way in hell I was taking a job where my ex-boyfriend got to hurl insults at me.

"Fair enough," Max sighed. "I’m going to place you as his personal assistant. Just survive a month. Deal?"

A few yards away, the man slouched in his canvas chair, exuding an aura of bored hostility. In just the five minutes we’d been standing there, three different crew members had approached him, only to scurry away with ashen, teary faces.

"He's relatively calm right now," Max whispered, trying to be helpful. "He’s tired from yelling."

I stared in disbelief. "Is he really that much of a monster?"

Max just chuckled darkly. "Follow me."

As we approached, that cold, piercing gaze finally shifted our way.

Carter Kensington’s jaw was locked. His lips pressed into a thin, cruel line as he stared down Max. "What is this, Max? Still holding a grudge against me, so you brought a burglar on set to steal my equipment?"

I froze. A burglar?

Sure, I was wearing a hat, sunglasses, and a mask, but a burglar? Really?!

"No, no, man," Max laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "This is your new PA."

I took a tentative step forward.

Carter’s eyes swept over me like a physical blow. "I can’t even tell if this is a man, a woman, a human, or a ghost. And you want to make it my assistant? What is this, a halfway house?"

"..."

I swallowed hard and pitched my voice up, forcing a nasally, unnatural tone. "I'm a woman, for the record."

A muscle in Carter’s jaw twitched. Disgust instantly clouded his features. "Great. You brought me a mental patient. Take her and get out of my sight."

Max coughed into his fist, desperately trying to salvage the situation. "Look, Carter, I handpicked her. She’s great. It’s just... she’s having a horrific allergic reaction on her face right now. It’s highly contagious—I mean, highly unsightly. So she has to keep it covered."

I nodded vigorously like a bobblehead.

Carter looked like he was one second away from snapping a clipboard in half. "Then she should be in a damn hospital. Does this look like an urgent care clinic to you?"

A dead silence fell over the immediate vicinity.

Even Max looked stumped. "Well..."

I lowered my head, keeping my voice small and pathetic. "I didn't ask to be allergic. It’s a chronic condition. It just flares up."

To my surprise, those words made Carter pause.

His sharp, unforgiving gaze raked over me again, reassessing. But those beautiful, deep-set dark eyes were entirely devoid of emotion. He looked at me the way one might look at a rusted piece of machinery.

Behind my dark lenses, my eyelashes fluttered against my cheeks.

The truth was, during the three years we dated, Carter had always been my sanctuary. He was considerate, patient, and impossibly sweet. I had never, not once, seen this side of him.

Six months ago, when we broke up, he had looked at me with those same striking eyes. But back then, they were pooling with warmth and regret.

“I’m sorry we couldn't make it to the finish line,” he had murmured, his voice like velvet.

He had pulled me into his chest, his large hand gently stroking my back. “You have to walk your own path from here on out. I just want you to be happy, Josie.”

Our breakup had been painfully mature, utterly dignified, and perfectly distant. Much like our three years together, where I always had the lingering suspicion that I was standing in the foyer of his heart, never allowed into the living room.

Looking at him now, I realized my instincts had been dead on. There was an entire side to this man that I had never been allowed to see.

"Fine," Carter finally scoffed, a cold, humorless sound. "Let her stay. She’ll quit crying within a week anyway."

Just as the words left his mouth, a stray tabby cat leaped from an apple box straight into his lap. Its paws were caked with dirt.

Based on the look of absolute revulsion on Carter’s face, I braced myself for him to launch the poor thing across the soundstage. Yet, back when we were together, Carter used to spend his Sunday mornings sitting on dirty pavement with me, feeding strays and helping me trap feral cats for the local rescue.

Thankfully, he only furrowed his brow, his body going rigid.

A agonizing minute passed. Finally, he jerked his chin at me. "Get this thing off me."

I muttered an acknowledgment and carefully reached out for the tabby. The cat was sweet, purring as I scooped it up against my chest.

As I pulled away, Carter spoke, his voice dangerously low. "What is that smell on you?"

I blinked behind my sunglasses. "Um... probably my laundry detergent? It’s the cheap store brand from Target. Do you want the link?"

The corner of Carter’s mouth twitched. The familiar disgust returned to his brow. "Hard pass."

But after he said it, his gaze seemed to drift, losing its sharp edge. For a fleeting second, the terrifying tension in his shoulders seemed to loosen.