Oops, I Kissed My Villain Boss

Florence POV.

Gunfire cracked like thunder splitting the day. Screams tore through the air as the pedestrians scattered in every direction, heels slapping against pavement, groceries spilling, car doors slamming shut in panicked haste.

The crowd was frantic, people running, stumbling and climbing over others that had fallen in a bid to get to safety.

Anthony shoved me down, one arm locking around my shoulders, the other pressing my head to his chest as bullets whistled over us. "Godswill!" His voice was like steel cutting through chaos. "Shoot back! Don't let them pin us down."

My ears rang. My body was shaking so badly I could hardly breathe. I clutched at his sleeve, nails digging into fabric, too stunned to move.

Another round of gunshots came, destroying the glass walls behind us. We ducked down, Anthony shielding me as the broken pieces rained over us.

"Godswill, shoot back damn it." Anthony roared drawing me closer to him.

Godswill's gun barked in return fire, sharp and merciless, sending the shooters scrambling. The fight went on for about five minutes, more of Anthony's bodyguards coming and defending us against the onslaught of bullets.

Luckily, police sirens pierced through the air, sending relief through me. Anthony tightened his grip on me as we ducked down a car as the attacker's gave one last round before they left us. The sound of their retreating car tyres echoed like a curse in the empty street.

And then, there was absolutely silence. Like nothing had even occurred.

"Who was that?!" Anthony snarled, lifting his head from where he'd shielded me, his eyes blazing and his voice hard as steel. "Who the hell was that?"

No one answered. The street was a graveyard of spilled fruit and broken glass, the air thick with gunpowder. Godswill and the other men swept through the shadows, but the attackers were gone.

I realized I was still gripping Anthony's suit jacket like a lifeline, and only then did I look down and notice the trembling in my own hands. My whole body wouldn't stop shaking and my heart felt like it was about to beat out of my chest.

"Miss Davidson are you okay?"

His voice cut through again, lower this time, not at me but near my ear. "Hey."

I couldn't answer. I couldn't even breathe right not to talk or speak. My throat worked just fine, but no words came. My vision became blurry and doubled. The world was spinning, dark creeping in at the edges of my vision. I heard Anthony's voice, calling out to me but it was like I was submerged under water and everything was far from me. Eventually darkness fell and I went along with it.

**********

When I woke, it wasn't to the chaos of sirens or the flashing of lights. It was to silence. One that was too quiet for my liking.

I sat up slightly dazed and a little lightheaded. My arm was sore and I reached to rub it with my other arm when I felt a foreign object. My arms were riddled with bandages.

I looked around to see that I was in a room I had never seen before. It was dimly lit, smelled faintly of cedar and something sharper, a man's cologne. The bed beneath me was firm, the sheets pressed smooth except where I'd tangled them in my definitely restless sleep.

I blinked, confusion fogging my brain as I tried to make sense of the whole situation. This wasn't my apartment. This wasn't even the guest quarters at the company. My heart skipped. Where...?

A muffled clink carried from beyond the door, the soft rhythm of movement. Dishes clatering, cabinets hinges screeching slightly, a pan scraping lightly over a stove.

I sat up, still dressed in the clothes from yesterday, my shoes neatly lined up against the wall. A small table by the bed held a glass of water and two little pills. Painkillers. My head didn't hurt, though. My body felt oddly...lighter. Someone had thought about that before I woke.

I pushed off the bed, the floor cool beneath my bare feet as I padded toward the sounds. The deeper into the apartment I went, the more it felt surreal, quiet elegance, dark wood floors, clean lines, books lined up perfectly on shelves. It was the kind of place that screamed control.

And there, in the kitchen, stood Anthony.

No suit. No tie. Just sweatpants slung low on his hips and a plain black T-shirt swung over his shoulders. He was standing over the stove, stirring something with absent precision. While he was shirtless and looking like heaven on earth with six pack abs. I watched with rapid attention at his fluid movement and the flexing of his muscles with each movement made.

I froze in the doorway. My mouth went dry. I didn't think I'd ever seen him look...human before. Not only looking human, he looked hot and drop dead sexy as hell it was concerning. I shook my head trying to slap myself out of it. He was my enemy no matter how mouthwatering his skin was and how juicy and bite able his muscles were.

"Control Florence," I muttered to myself. "We do not lust over evil people."

He turned his head slightly, catching me watching. "You're awake." His voice was the same, calm, commanding, but softer somehow and the sound filled my chest with unwarranted warmth.

"From the looks of how you were talking to yourself like a mental patient I think it is safe to say that you are okay."

And...the warmth is gone. F**k you Anthony.

I tried rolling my eyes at him but realized I was staring, not at his face, but lower. Broad chest, lean muscle, the kind of lines magazines tried too hard to Photoshop. Heat rushed to my cheeks before I could help it as very lewd imaginations began to top up.

He turned around and lifted his brows at my expression"Pervert." He simply said and he was not wrong but who am I to let him go with that.

"What, excuse me?!" I squeaked, my face blazing as I crossed my arms.

"Sit down." He motioned toward the counter without looking back. "You need to eat."

I hovered awkwardly before finally slipping onto one of the stools. The smell of food drifted over-warm, savory, like comfort wrapped in steam.

For a moment, it felt almost...normal. Too normal to be true. A piece of my memory felt missing and I just couldn't tap into it.

I stiffened, blurting before I could stop myself: "Something happened. I can't... I can't remember it properly. What-what was that?"

He glanced over his shoulder, expression unreadable. "There was a shootout right in front of the office."

My stomach dropped as the memory slammed back into me: the shots, the shouts, the way his body had covered mine.The stool scraped loudly as I shot to my feet. "A what?!" My heart pounded against my ribs. "Who were they? Why would they come after me-why-"

Anthony cut me off with a sharp look. "Sit."

I didn't. My hands were shaking again, breath shallow, panic creeping up my throat.

"You had a minor seizure and your blood pressure was too high," he said finally, setting the pan aside. His tone was clinical, almost detached, but his eyes flicked to me-watchful. "Shock. You passed out before I could get answers."

Florence POV

"I-" My voice cracked. "I don't- have any history of that. Even in my family."

"It's not genetic, the doctors checked you out. You just need to rest."

"Just rest?"

"Yes, just rest. Which is why," he continued, "you're not running off again until we know exactly who's behind this."

I stared at him, chest heaving, thoughts racing too fast to pin down. Fear, confusion, anger-everything tangled together.

And yet, beneath it all, one thing stuck stubbornly in place: I was alive. I was here. And the man who terrified me, infuriated me, confused me-had carried me through it. Anthony was the biggest puzzle in this entire situation. This was a romance movie where we would bond over the situation and fall in love in a cheesy way. This was the real world where we were just shot at with real guns. I get that Anthony may have seen a lot in his profession and rise to wealth but he was not even a bit shaken. He was angry and concerned but more of curious and no form of fear. Who was he?

I ate slowly, my fork clinking against the plate, eyes flicking to Anthony across the counter.

"So... what now? What are we going to do about this?" I asked, testing his mood.

He didn't look up from the phone in his hand. "We're not going to do anything. You are going home. And staying there until I say so."

I froze mid-bite. "What! No way! I am not just going to sit back, I have to do something..."

"Do what exactly? You always want to involve yourself and look at where that has gotten you. Bloody and bruised."

"But at least I'm still alive and breathing."

"So you want to take a chance and test how fast you can stop breathing?"

"No I just need to.."

He cut me off sharply, his voice as cold as steel. "That's enough Miss Davidson. You almost died today. Do you realize that? You even passed out from the shock, had a seizure and was so close to a minor stroke."

My eyes narrowed. "Are you trying to call me weak?"

"Yes," he answered flatly, without hesitation. His gaze finally met mine, unflinching. "You are weak, unprepared, unqualified for this fight. And if you don't stay out of this, I'll make sure you're banned from the company. I'll put you somewhere I know you can't interfere."

The words hit harder than I expected, and for once I didn't fire back because deep down I knew he was right. I pressed my lips together, glaring at my plate, muttering something under my breath.

An hour later, I stepped out of the bedroom, wearing one of his old shirts that hung past my thighs and a pair of borrowed shorts. Anthony was already waiting in the sitting room, jacket on, car keys in hand.

He gestured to one of the men that were stationed outside. "Take her home." His tone left no room for argument. "I'll go with another driver to meet the inspector."

I rolled my eyes but didn't move.

Anthony crossed the room in two long strides and caught my wrist before I could walk past him. His grip wasn't rough, but firm, a warning in itself. He leaned down just enough for me to hear him.

"Don't do anything reckless, Miss Davidson. I mean it when I say there will be consequences for your actions."

I tilted my head, meeting his cold stare with mocking sweetness. "Oh? What could I possibly do? Since you've already decided how every part of my life should go."

"I did not do that."

"Well you've decided where I should I should not go, what food I should eat, clothes I should wear maybe next time you'll choose my makeup."

The corner of my lips curled in a bitter smile. His jaw tightened, but he didn't answer. For a moment, the silence between us carried something sharp-anger, frustration, and something neither of us wanted to name.

"Don't do anything." He warned as I entered the car.

"Don't count on your dominance." I said as the car sped away.

The drive home was quiet, a strained, tense silence broken only by the hum of the engine. My mind replayed the events of the last few hours: the deafening gunshots, the feeling of Anthony's body shielding mine, the strange intimacy of his apartment. The air was still thick with the memory of his touch, the warmth of his hand on my wrist.

I couldn't shake the image of him in his kitchen, stripped of his usual armor of a suit and tie, looking vulnerable, almost domestic. It was a side of him I'd never seen, a crack in the carefully constructed facade he presented to the world. And it was a side I was dangerously, stupidly, attracted to.

When we finally pulled up to my apartment building, I didn't hesitate. I unbuckled my seatbelt and turned to the driver. "I'll be right back."

"Miss, Mr. Anthony said-"

"I know what he said," I cut him off, my voice steady. "But I need to get something."

I ignored his protests and jogged up the stairs to my apartment, my heart pounding in my chest. Inside, I grabbed a small duffel bag and a few essentials, my mind made up. I couldn't just sit here and wait for something to happen. I wasn't that kind of person.

When I got back downstairs, the driver was still there, looking frustrated. "Miss, I can't let you leave."

I gave him a sympathetic smile. "I'm not going to leave. I'm going to follow him. And you're going to help me."

He stared at me, his eyes wide. "I can't do that. He'll kill me."

"He won't," I said, my voice low and confident. "Because if he does, I'll tell everyone what happened tonight. I'll tell them about the seizure, the gun shoot out about the fact that he carried me back to his apartment, about how he tried to force me. And then he'll have a much bigger problem than you."

The driver's face went pale. He knew I was right. Anthony would do anything to keep his vulnerabilities hidden. I was his little secret, and I was going to use that to my advantage.

"Get in the car," I said, a mischievous glint in my eye. "We have a meeting to crash."

He hesitated for a moment, then sighed and got in the driver's seat. He started the car, and we pulled out into the night, following the faint glow of Anthony's car in the distance. I was doing something reckless, something stupid, something that would probably get me into a lot of trouble. But I didn't care. I was a part of this now, and I wasn't going to let anyone, not even Anthony, keep me on the sidelines.

The chase was on.