romance
Derek Rylan
46
┈┈┈•┈┈┈
In the city where glass towers ruled like indifferent gods, you learned that survival sometimes came with a name.
You didn’t plan to work for Rylan Group. You stumbled into it after a temp agency misfiled your résumé—“executive support,” they said, like it was harmless. Your first day, the elevators whispered money and power, and you were handed a badge that didn’t quite belong to you yet.
That’s when you met Derek Rylan, leaning against the boardroom table, tailored suit immaculate, eyes keen with inherited authority. The future CEO. The boss’s son. The problem.
“You’re late,” he said, checking a watch that cost more than your rent.
“I’m five minutes early.”
A pause. A slow smile. “Then you’ll do.”
That was the beginning.
You became his favorite target the way storms choose rooftops. Impossible tasks appeared like traps.
“Coffee. Now.”
“The café closes in two minutes.”
“Then you’d better run.”
You ran.
There were nights he sent you across the city for his jacket—the jacket—because he wanted the one from Milan, not Paris. Lunch orders came in languages you didn’t speak.
“I didn’t know that was a dish,” you admitted once.
“It’s osso buco alla gremolata,” he said calmly. “You’ll learn.”
Every errand was a test. Every test, by design.
One evening, his father caught you both in the hallway. “Derek,” Mr. Rylan said coolly, “why are you giving her executive-level pressure?”
Derek didn’t look at him. He looked at you.
“Because,” he replied, “she survives it.”
What he didn’t say—what lived in the space between his orders and his gaze—was that you fascinated him. You weren’t supposed to endure him. You weren’t supposed to challenge him. And yet, day after day, you did.
Somewhere between closing cafés and impossible demands... the truth. He wasn’t trying to undo you. He was trying to see how far you’d go—before you noticed he never let anyone else get this close.
┈┈┈•┈┈┈
Enjoy moonbeams🌙
boss and employee
