My Boss Crashed My First Date In Five Years — Then The Shooting Started
Part 1
Managing the logistics of a legitimate import-export business took up my daylight hours.
In the shadows, millions of dollars were scrubbed clean through Delaware shell companies by my hand.
I had been the unseen architect of this massive underworld empire for five long years.
A size twenty-two logistics coordinator, I hid my brilliance behind tailored blazers and professional indifference.
Tyler, my boss, was brutally handsome and carried a kind of generational violence that made men stutter.
Absolute perfection was the only metric he accepted from anyone in his orbit.
Delivering it consistently made me the most valuable asset he possessed.
He knew my coffee order by heart, yet he had never once looked at me as a woman.
To him, my constant presence was simply an extension of his own mind.
That dynamic shifted permanently on a gloomy Tuesday in late October.
Handing him a stack of shipping manifests, I deliberately placed a cream-colored envelope on his desk.
My voice remained perfectly neutral as I informed him I would be leaving at five o’clock that coming Friday.
He casually ordered me to cancel the plans because a rival syndicate was arriving in the city.
The briefing documents were already prepared and resting on his credenza, I pointed out smoothly.
Smoothing the front of my dark pencil skirt, I repeated my firm intention to leave exactly on time.
Genuine confusion finally forced his dark eyes to lift and meet mine.
Working until midnight was my usual routine just to match his relentless pace.
A sharp demand for my destination slipped past his usual filter of detached authority.
Hesitating for only a fraction of a second, I cited a personal engagement.
He pressed harder, refusing to let the vague answer stand unchallenged.
Admitting I had a date sent a heavy, suffocating silence crashing through the freezing office.
His gaze drifted over my plush figure, catching the defiant glint sparking in my hazel eyes.
Dropping an octave, his voice took on a dangerous edge as he asked for a name.
I declared it my personal business and promised to see him on Monday morning.
The atmosphere in the executive suite that Friday was entirely toxic.
Tyler had been violently snapping at his lieutenants all afternoon.
At exactly four-thirty, I retreated to the executive washroom to begin my transformation.
I swapped my sensible gray blazer for a wrap dress in a shade of deep crimson.
The heavy silk fabric clung unapologetically to my generous curves.
Pulling the severe bun from my hair allowed dark waves to cascade down my bare shoulders.
I applied a dark red lipstick that made my mouth look impossibly soft.
When I walked to the elevator, the heavy click-clack of my heels echoed through the watchful office.
Every guard and made man in the vicinity subtly turned their heads to track my exit.
I caught Tyler staring at me through his glass partition.
His jaw clenched so hard I thought his teeth might shatter.
I met my date, Brian, at an absurdly pretentious French bistro on the Upper East Side.
Brian was a balding actuary who wore wire-rimmed glasses and talked endlessly about municipal bonds.
He was safe, predictable, and perfectly legal.
About thirty minutes into our appetizers, the ambient chatter of the restaurant faded into a nervous hush.
A massive shadow fell over our white tablecloth, blocking out the dim lighting.
I looked up and the breath completely left my body.
Tyler stood next to our velvet booth wearing a custom black suit.
His hands were tucked casually into his pockets, but his dark eyes were entirely feral.
The lethal aura he projected was immediately suffocating to anyone nearby.
His dead, shark-like gaze was fixed entirely on Brian.
He demanded an introduction in a tone that sent shivers down my spine.
Brian instinctively shrank back into the plush booth, extending a trembling hand.
Tyler looked at the hand as if it were a diseased rat.
He introduced himself as my employer and stated that he needed me back at the office immediately.
My face flushed hot with absolute indignation.
I forcefully reminded him that I was officially off the clock.
He smoothly shifted his imposing bulk, physically boxing us into the narrow booth.
Leaning down, he claimed a large shipment had been seized and he needed his logistics coordinator.
I commanded Brian to stay put, glaring furiously at Tyler.
Tyler leaned in so close I could smell the heavy scent of his sandalwood cologne.
He murmured softly that absolutely no one else could handle it.
He simply gave the actuary a look of such absolute violence that Brian practically scrambled out of his seat.
Brian threw a crumpled fifty-dollar bill on the table and bolted for the exit.
Tyler casually slid into the freshly vacated seat, looking obscenely satisfied.
I told him he was an absolute monster.
He readily and shamelessly agreed with the assessment.
Picking up my wine glass, he studied the rim.
He turned the glass so his lips touched the exact spot where my lipstick had left a dark mark.
He took a slow sip, his eyes blazing with a terrifying possessive heat.
He told me my date was a weak civilian who didn’t know how to properly look at a woman like me.
His gaze swept over the plunging neckline of my dress without an ounce of shame.
Leaning closer, his dark hunger became completely undisguised.
He firmly stated I was not a museum exhibit meant to be stared at from afar.
Tonight, he was violently scribbling far outside the permanent lines we had drawn.
Gripping my clutch purse firmly, I announced my immediate departure.
He casually countered that I was coming with him.
Sliding out of the booth, he towered over me and offered his waiting hand.
The lethal glint in his eyes warned me he was fully prepared to carry me out.
I hesitantly placed my soft hand in his large, scarred palm.
He wrapped his heavy arm around my waist, pulling me toward the street, completely unaware that the night was about to violently explode.
