I Slept With My Boss Then Married Him

At the hospital, Maximilian Carter stood silently at his grandmother’s bedside, watching her breathe through the oxygen mask. His usually unreadable face was drawn with worry. His phone buzzed in his pocket, cutting through the quiet. He pulled it out and saw a friend request.

He frowned slightly and accepted. Elizabeth Cox. Maximilian tapped “Accept” without hesitation.

Elizabeth hadn’t expected him to move that fast. When his reply came through, she wiped her tears and typed with trembling fingers: Could you come pick me up? We need to talk.

To her, his brief response felt like a lifeline. She wasn’t optimistic about marriage, but maybe a relationship of mutual convenience wouldn’t be the worst thing. Just as she sent him her location, her phone died—whether from the rain or a low battery, she couldn’t tell.

She made up her mind: if he showed up, she’d marry him. If he didn’t, she’d let it go.

Maximilian pocketed his phone and started to leave, but his grandmother’s frail hand caught his. She was showing signs of waking.

“You stubborn boy...”

“Grandma, I didn’t mean to upset you. I have someone I care about, and I’m planning to marry her tomorrow. So please, don’t be mad at me anymore, okay?” His tone softened, a hint of playfulness slipping through.

His grandmother’s dull eyes lit with joy. “Really?” She tried to sit up.

Maximilian gently pressed her back down and tucked the blanket around her with care. “Really. I’ll go pick her up now, and tomorrow I’ll bring her to meet you. You should rest.”

“Alright... but no more lies,” she said.

“I promise.” He nodded.

To the world, Maximilian Carter was known for his cold demeanor, but with his grandmother, he was endlessly patient. After making sure she was settled and telling the nurses to keep an eye on her, he grabbed his car keys.

“Mr. Carter, there’s a severe storm warning today. It might not be safe to drive,” his bodyguard said.

“I’ll be fine,” Maximilian assured him.

He went down to the garage and started the car. In the stormy night, the black Maybach looked like a lone beacon, cutting purposefully toward its destination.

Outside, Elizabeth sheltered under a bus stop, fighting the relentless wind and rain. She clung to her suitcase, feeling exposed. She thought about moving somewhere better but worried Maximilian wouldn’t be able to find her.

The rain hammered the bus stop roof while the wind whipped through the trees. Her anxiety climbed. What if he didn’t come? Just as she considered finding better shelter, a black car approached, its headlights slicing through the storm.

Elizabeth’s face lit with surprise.

The Maybach rolled to a steady stop. Despite the fierce storm, Maximilian stepped out without an umbrella, immediately soaked but focused on the girl standing alone in the rain. She looked vulnerable—like an abandoned puppy—and it tugged at something in his chest.

“Get in,” he said, his voice cutting through the storm as he bent to pick up her suitcase.

Elizabeth’s tears streamed down her face. “I thought you wouldn’t come,” she said, her eyes swollen as she looked at him.

Buffeted by the storm, Elizabeth shivered from the cold—and from a sudden, unfamiliar sense of security. His arrival felt like a beacon in her dark world. Her tears shifted from despair to relief, her eyes brighter now.

Seeing how distressed she was, Maximilian helped her into the passenger seat. “Get in,” he urged gently.

Elizabeth felt his firm grip on her hand, numb from the cold rain. The moment felt unreal.

Suddenly, the storm intensified. With a loud crash, part of the bus shelter tore loose and flew toward them. Maximilian reacted instinctively, shielding Elizabeth with his body.

She felt his strong presence like a protective barrier and heard his pained grunt as something struck him.

“Are you alright?” Elizabeth asked, fear in her voice.

“I’m fine,” Maximilian replied, brow furrowed as he ignored the pain in his arm and kept shielding her toward the car.

Once their luggage was stowed and they were both inside, the Maybach’s cabin offered refuge from the storm outside.

“Are you hurt?” she asked, ignoring her own soaked face, vividly recalling the sound of metal hitting the ground.

“Let’s go home first,” Maximilian said, giving no further details as he started the engine and headed home.

Elizabeth clutched her seatbelt tightly, holding her breath, reluctant to break the silence between them. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Maximilian’s sharp profile, and the situation felt surreal.

About forty minutes later, they arrived at the underground garage of Maximilian’s villa.

“We’re here,” he said, unbuckling his seatbelt and grabbing her damaged suitcase.

Elizabeth followed him, the long exposure to rain leaving her chilly and congested. Her voice held a nasal quality: “Mr. Carter, can we talk?”

Standing by the car door, her swollen eyes lingered on his cool, composed face.

“Let’s get changed first,” Maximilian replied, carrying her suitcase toward the elevator.

Elizabeth trailed behind him, her steps cautious. Her current demeanor was a stark contrast to the boldness she had shown the previous night.

Maximilian paused, waiting for her to catch up. She moved slowly, her head down, eyes fixed on her toes—completely different from the carefree spirit she’d been when tipsy.

He stood there, watching her approach, her wet shoes and Victorian-style dress dripping onto the floor.

Why hadn’t he moved?

Elizabeth stopped and looked up.

“Name your terms, or we’ll do this my way,” Maximilian said, his voice filled with authority.

Sniffling, Elizabeth quickly responded, “We’ll have a marriage of convenience, keep your identity secret, and divorce in six or twelve months. We’ll have separate bedrooms,” she proposed, avoiding his intense gaze.

Feeling slightly guilty, she added, “You did say you’d take responsibility.”

Aware of her limited bargaining power, she waited for his response.

“I agree to the first three points. We’ll discuss divorce later. Explain the separate bedrooms,” Maximilian said, tilting her chin so she had to meet his gaze.

Forced to look at him, her lips parted, and she stammered, “I want my own room, in case you... you...”

Her words faltered as her face turned crimson with embarrassment. Her eyes, wide and teary, avoided his.

Maximilian’s eyes softened with a hint of amusement as he took in her flushed face and damp eyelashes. “So, if I want, I’ll visit your room? Hmm?” His voice was low, laced with a teasing tone.