Hiding Her Identity, She Joined Her Husband's Company

When I learned that my Boss's right-hand man, Assistant Mason Martin, had arranged my desk in Houston's office, I stood at the door of the Boss's office for five minutes.

"Elizabeth, are you working as a security guard at the door? If you don't come in, you'll be fined 1.5 dollars," Houston's voice sounded coldly from his office.

I quickly trotted to my workstation, turned on my computer and blocked myself from his sight.

Houston said calmly, "There's no need to be so anxious. Do you want to consider it a work injury if you fall down while running so fast in high heels?"

He was truly a capitalist. So, that was how the Boss made money.

But I usually slacked off downstairs, so when I was in the Boss’s office, I really didn't know what to do.

I could only write a short story with my Boss as the male protagonist in front of the computer screen. When I was happily typing and revising, Houston suddenly gave me a cold look.

"Elizabeth, what are you writing? You look so happy," he asked. 

His surprised expression made my scalp tingle actually, so I could only murmur, "I still have some work to hand over. I'll catch up."

"Please move your stool and sit over here. As your Boss, I need to supervise you personally to prevent you from slacking off."

Looking at Houston's table that could only accommodate 1.5 people at best, I sighed in my heart. Why was he so stingy with himself?

I sat down very awkwardly, but there was nothing to do so I could only pretend to work.

Houston glanced at me impatiently and said, "Please translate this document first. If you don't understand, ask me."

After staying up all morning, it was finally time for lunch. So, I caught Mason in the cafeteria.

"Mr. Martin, we are a large listed company after all. Can you give our eagle-like President a bigger desk?" I asked, pretending to be thinking about Houston, but actually it was all for my own sake.

I sat at that small table the whole morning today, which was so uncomfortable. What was more, I could not avoid touching Houston's strong and muscular thighs several times, which made all the dirty thoughts in my brain come out.

After all, I was really afraid that he would sue me for sexual harassment.

Mason looked at me with a constipated expression and said, "Miss Hayden, Mr. Hoover asked me to change this table this morning. He said he didn't like tables that were too big, so he changed the three-times-large table to this mini one."

What?

Was that a special hobby of Houston then?

I scratched my head and returned to the President's office just one minute before work.

I saw Houston looking at the document I translated that morning with a serious face. He even took out a red pen to circle and marked on it.

"Elizabeth, didn't you write on your resume that you were proficient in French? Why did you make so many mistakes?" he said indifferently.

I just smiled innocently. My mastering was roughly equivalent to B2 actually, but that was already Upper Intermediate in courses, you know.

After about half a minute, he sighed and said, "Forget it. I don't expect you to achieve anything great. Just knowing how to eat and drink is enough."

I didn't dare look at his expression, but I somehow heard a hint of doting in his words. 

It should be my hallucination, right?

He wouldn't like me, would he?

In my dream, I turned into Houston’s fat cat. He also touched my head every day, making it bald. So, when looking at my bald head in the mirror, I suddenly woke up.

It was ten o'clock in the morning at that time, so I was already an hour late.

I laid in bed for five minutes and finally decided that since I was already late, I might as well not go.

[Elizabeth: Mr. Hoover, I'm sorry, I'm feeling a bit unwell today. Can I not go to work?] 

After sending the text message, I got up to cook noodles.

When the noodles were cooked and I was about to find some forks to eat, I suddenly saw a message from Houston on my phone.

[Houston: How bad is your sickness?]

I slapped my forehead. It seemed that he didn’t believe me. So, I sent another message.

[Elizabeth: It is so bad. I have a severe cold, fever, runny nose and headache. Please let me take a day off.]

Then I happily started to eat the noodles. It was spicy and stinky, so it really went well with my appetite. What was more, it happened to be drizzling outside, making me so happy that I started humming a song.

I was halfway through my meal when the doorbell rang. I thought it was the delivery man who delivered the fried chicken I just ordered, so I quickly paused the movie I watched and trotted to open the door.

I skillfully reached out to take the takeaway but felt a big hand instead.

I was very sorry for molesting the guy, but just as I was about to open the door to apologize to him, the door was opened by the man first.

Houston's handsome face suddenly appeared in front of me without warning, making me drop my fork in fright.

"Mr. Hoover, why are you here?" I asked, looking at him in surprise, almost bit my tongue.

He shook the bag in his hand and said calmly, "You are sick, so I am here to bring you some medicine."

Looking at his wet clothes, I asked in confusion, "Mr. Hoover, you should drive a car, right?"

He curled his lips and sighed, explaining, "I drive here, but your community security guards wouldn't let me in, so I climbed over the wall to get in."

"Well, come in quickly, Mr. Hoover," I said and hurriedly pulled him into the room, then closed the door.

Houston took a deep breath as soon as he entered the house, frowning slightly, "Elizabeth, did your toilet explode?"

I looked at him, then at the noodle I had just eaten halfway and then an idea came to me, "Mr. Hoover, you are soaked all over, take a shower quickly, or you will catch a cold."

I pulled him to the bathroom door, took out clothes from the closet and handed them to him. I said, "Use this."

He looked at me and said nothing, then slowly walked into the bathroom.

While he was in the bathroom, I opened my bloody mouth and ate the remaining half bowl of noodles, then carried it downstairs and threw it away.

After coming back and washing the dishes, I closed the windows and placed a new reed diffuser. So, at least, my house was completely filled with a nice fragrance.

I had just turned on the computer and was about to pretend to work when the sound of water in the bathroom stopped. After a rustling sound, Houston pushed the door open and looked at me.

He pulled at his pants and said, "Did you buy these pants for your ex-boyfriend? It seems his legs are not as long as mine. The clothes are a bit tight too, so it seems his figure is not as good as mine."

I somehow felt that Houston's words were a bit of tea, but in order not to offend my Boss, I still said truthfully, "I bought this for my dad. Maybe he is old and has shrunk."

Houston's expression suddenly became interesting, so he changed at least three expressions in less than a second.

"So, it belongs to your father. I was wondering why it is so handsome," he said.

The atmosphere was a bit awkward. Luckily, my fried chicken arrived just in time. So, I left to take it.

When I came back from getting the takeaway, I saw Houston staring at me.

"Mr. Hoover, the takeaway I ordered is here. Let's have a bite together." 

After saying that, I pushed him onto the sofa in my house and handed him a pair of disposable gloves.

After eating and drinking, I collapsed on the sofa, rubbing my stomach and feeling drowsy. Suddenly, Houston's words woke me up, "Elizabeth, don't you have a cold, fever and runny nose? Why do you look so energetic?"

Oh, right!

I forgot to act like that.