Madison

His presence was intoxicating. Alexander's cologne wrapped around me, lingering like dark spices and something earthy. My pulse quickened as he leaned in, our faces just inches apart.

"You're here," he murmured.

"Mr. Knight, what's going on?" My voice trembled. I placed a hand on his chest, meaning to push him back, but all I felt was the chiseled muscles under his shirt.

He took my hand, interlacing his fingers with mine and pressing them back against the wall. The heat from his touch was electric, coursing straight to my core. My breathing turned shallow, and my heart thudded in my ears. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide.

"You're really here." He whispered huskily. His gaze swept my face, lingering on my lips as his breath warmed my cheek.

"Are you... okay?" I stammered. His pupils seemed larger than normal, almost swallowing the blue of his irises. Something felt off. Was he on drugs?

"I'm more than okay." He nuzzled against my neck, lips brushing my skin. "You're perfect."

"I think you might need medical assistance-"

He didn't let me finish. His mouth captured mine, and the world tilted on its axis. The kiss was fierce, desperate, and filled with a hunger that took my breath away. His free hand found my waist, pulling me against him.

The sensible part of my brain screamed for me to push him away, to get help. But then his tongue parted my lips, and my knees went weak. I grabbed onto his shoulders to steady myself, my fingers digging into the fine fabric of his suit.

His kiss grew more intense, leaving me scarcely able to think or breathe. A moan escaped my lips.

My hands roamed over his shoulders and back, feeling the hard muscles flex beneath my touch. His grip on my waist tightened, lifting me effortlessly.

Before I knew it, he maneuvered me backward, guiding me toward the bedroom. We stumbled, our lips never parting, until the back of my knees hit the king-sized bed. He gently pushed me onto the mattress, positioning himself above me. His eyes were wild.

"Off," he said, tugging at my blouse.

I fumbled with the buttons. Finally, I managed to undo the fabric and slip out of it.

His gaze darkened, and he pulled down the cups of my bra.

He bent down, and I arched up, gasping.

His free hand roamed lower, slipping under the waistband of my pants. A sharp jolt shot through me.

"Fuck," I moaned, my fingers threading through his hair, holding him to my chest.

With one swift motion, he tugged my pants and panties down my legs. His hands spread my thighs apart. I cried out.

"You're so ready," he muttered, almost to himself.

Before I could respond, I watched, breathless, as he quickly moved to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. He didn't bother removing his clothes.

He climbed between my legs, and I squirmed.

He moved against me, and my nails dug into his back.

His mouth crashed against mine in a desperate kiss. His hands gripped my hips as our bodies moved together, mingling with our groans and panting breaths.

"God, you feel incredible," he growled, breath hot and ragged.

We moved together. I felt the pressure building. He angled his hips, and I cried out, my entire body tensing.

"I'm close, Alexander," I gasped, my nails raking down his back.

My voice seemed to spur him on, his movements growing even more frenzied. I clutched at the sheets, trying to ground myself.

"Yes," he groaned, his pace becoming erratic. "Come for me."

His encouragement drove me over the edge. With a final scream, I shattered, waves washing over me as he continued moving with me through it.

It was then, just as the intensity began to wane, that I heard him mutter, "Fuck, Katherine."

I froze. My mind reeled. Katherine?! Who the hell was Katherine?

But I couldn't dwell on it for long because he was still moving with me. My overstimulated body responded despite my confusion, another wave already building.

"Katherine, you feel so good." He drove into me one last time, with a guttural moan. His body trembled, triggering another wave that left me breathless and shaking.

As the haze faded, reality sank in. Alexander had called another woman's name while we were together. He didn't even know who I was.

As he collapsed next to me on the bed, his breathing heavy, I stared at the ceiling, my mind racing. Who was Katherine? Did she work for him, too, or was she just one of his many conquests? The thought gnawed at me like a persistent itch I couldn't scratch.

I slipped out from under his arm, my legs still trembling. Alexander's soft snores filled the bedroom as I gathered my scattered clothes. Of course, he'd pass out - typical man. At least he hadn't called me "baby" or some other generic pet name. No, he'd gone with "Katherine" instead.

I stumbled to the bathroom, wincing at my reflection. My carefully straightened hair now resembled a bird's nest, and my lipstick... well, that was definitely not where lipstick should be.

As I cleaned up, my mind wandered to the stack of NDAs in my desk drawer - all the women who'd crossed paths with Alexander Knight.

"At least I didn't have to draft my own NDA," I muttered. Being Alexander's PA meant cleaning up his messes and arranging flowers and "sorry" gifts for the parade of models and socialites he left in his wake. But Katherine? That name wasn't in any of my files.

I smoothed down my outfit and checked my phone - 10:27 PM. The doctor would still be awake. I scrolled through my contacts, finding Dr. Peterson's number. My thumb hovered over the call button as Alexander's snores echoed from the bedroom.

"Dr. Peterson? Sorry to bother you so late." I kept my voice steady and professional. "It's Madison Harper, Mr. Knight's PA."

"What's he done now?" Dr. Peterson sighed.

"He seems altered. Dilated pupils, unusual behavior. I found him like this when I came to drop off some urgent paperwork." The lie slipped out easily. Too easily.

"Drugs?"

"Possibly. He's sleeping now, but-"

"I'll be there in twenty."

"Thank you, Doctor." I ended the call and slipped my phone into my pocket.

Back in the bedroom, Alexander sprawled across the unmade bed like a fallen Greek statue, suit wrinkled and pants still undone.

"Right. Time to make you presentable." I surveyed the scene. The nightstand had shifted a foot to the left. A decorative vase teetered on the edge – how had we not broken that?

I approached Alexander's sleeping form. "Don't you dare wake up," I muttered, reaching for his zipper. My fingers trembled as I worked quickly to tuck in his shirt and fasten his pants. The belt proved trickier – threading it through the loops while he was dead weight required some creative maneuvering.

His head lolled to the side. "Mmm... Katherine..."

I yanked the belt tight with more force than necessary. "Yeah, yeah. Katherine. Whoever she is."

The doorbell rang. Shit. Dr. Peterson was early.

I sprinted to straighten the nightstand, shoving it back into place. A quick scan of the room – nothing else seemed obviously disturbed. I grabbed a pillow and wedged it under Alexander's head, trying to make it look like he'd dozed off.

Dr. Peterson strode in, medical bag in hand. "Evening, Ms. Harper."

"Doctor. Thank you for coming so quickly." I gestured to Alexander. "I found him like this when I came to drop off some urgent documents."

The doctor knelt beside the bed, checking Alexander's pulse. "Any idea what he might have taken?"

"None. He seemed... not himself." Understatement of the century. "Dilated pupils, erratic behavior."

Dr. Peterson lifted Alexander's eyelids, shining a small light. "Probably some party drug. Though it's unlikely for him to indulge alone."

"Should I call security? His driver?"

"No need. I'll stay until he comes around." He pulled out a blood pressure cuff. "You should head home, Ms. Harper. I've got it from here."

I nodded, gathering my purse. "Of course. Thank you again."

I hurried to the elevator, my reflection in the metal doors nearly composed except for my swollen lips and flushed cheeks.

The night air slapped my face as I hailed a cab, needing to get home and think.

"Where to?" the driver asked.

"Anywhere but here." I caught his concerned look in the rearview mirror. "Sorry. 42nd and 8th, please."

As the city lights blurred past, I wondered how I'd face Alexander tomorrow. Would he remember? And more importantly – who the hell was Katherine?

Madison

I woke up feeling like I'd been hit by a truck - a very sexy, Alexander Knight-shaped truck. My body ached in places I'd forgotten existed, and my inner thighs bore the telltale bruises of last night's activities.

"Get it together, Madison," I muttered to my reflection as I applied concealer under my eyes. Despite my best makeup efforts, the woman staring back looked debauched.

The subway ride to work was torture. Every bump and sway reminded me of how Alexander had moved inside me. How his hands had gripped my hips. How he'd called me Katherine.

Katherine. The name bounced around my skull like an angry ping-pong ball.

I'd spent half the night googling "Katherine Alexander Knight" with zero results. Not that I was jealous or anything. I mean, why would I be jealous of someone whose name my boss moaned while high on God-knows-what?

The elevator ride up to the office felt longer than usual. I checked my phone seventeen times in thirty seconds, praying there wouldn't be a message from Alexander. Nothing. Thank God.

I peeked into Alexander's office. Empty. The relief that flooded through me was embarrassing.

Collapsing into my chair, I buried my face in my hands. "This is fine. Everything's fine. He probably doesn't even remember. And if he does, well... I'll just move to Antarctica. I hear they need secretaries there."

My phone buzzed. I jumped so hard that my knee slammed into the desk drawer.

I rubbed my throbbing knee while checking the message. Just a spam email about enlarging body parts I didn't possess.

The morning crawled by in a haze of paranoia. Every footstep in the hallway had me tensing like a guilty teenager. By ten, my neck muscles felt like steel cables from constantly whipping around to check the door.

My coffee mug sat empty, mocking me. I needed caffeine.

I grabbed my mug and power-walked to the break room. I beelined for the coffee maker, already tasting that sweet salvation.

"Madison! Just the person I wanted to see!"

I nearly dropped my mug. Stella from Accounting materialized beside me, grinning like she'd just discovered tax evasion in the company books.

"Hey, Stella." I focused on pouring coffee, willing my hands not to shake.

"So," She leaned against the counter, eyes twinkling. "Hot date last night?"

Coffee sloshed over the rim. "What? No. Why would you-"

"That's quite the love bite you're sporting." She pointed at my neck, smirking. "Unless you've taken up wrestling in your spare time?"

My free hand flew to my neck. Horror dawned as I felt the tender spot just below my ear. The spot where Alexander had marked me like some overenthusiastic vampire.

My mind raced faster than my morning subway ride. "Oh, this? My curling iron. Total klutz moment this morning." I forced a laugh that came out like a strangled cat.

"Must be some curling iron. Looks more like someone was trying to-"

"Would you look at the time!" I glanced at my naked wrist, where a watch definitely wasn't. "Those expense reports won't file themselves!"

"But you haven't finished your coffee-"

I abandoned my half-filled mug on the counter, speed-walking toward the exit with all the grace of a newborn giraffe. My heels clicked against the tile floor in what felt like morse code for "Help me!"

I collapsed into my desk chair, heart pounding like I'd just run a marathon in heels. My hands trembled as I tried to pull myself together. What was I thinking? Curling iron? Really? I might have said it was a one-night stand. That would have been slightly more believable. God, a one-night stand would be even worse.

Rumors about Alexander and me have been circulating since I became his PA. It was bad enough that I landed this position after being in the company for a short time.

Everyone thought I'd slept my way to the top, that I'd spread my legs for him to get ahead. Despite all my hard work, the whispers never stopped.

Colleagues who used to be friends now barely make eye contact with me. Their hushed conversations stop whenever I enter the room, replaced by forced smiles and awkward silence.

Although I didn't initially want this job, I took it because of the high salary necessary to cover my mom's medical expenses.

But now? The situation was an absolute mess. If anyone found out what happened last night, they'd think the rumors were true. They'd believe I used my body to climb the social ladder, something I would never do.

No one could find out that Alexander and I had slept together. The very thought twisted my stomach into knots. I prayed Alexander would forget it all, erasing the memory as if it never happened.

Of course, I knew I couldn't hide from him forever. Sooner or later, I'd have to report to him for work. But I was convinced the doctor would tell him nothing happened. And even if he remembered something, he'd go to Katherine.

Every woman Alexander slept with wanted to be his wife. So if he asked Katherine if she was with him the other night, she'd definitely say yes to get closer to him.

The conference room felt smaller than usual as I arranged the meeting materials, hyper-aware of Alexander's presence at the head of the table. My hands trembled as I distributed the financial reports, careful to keep my eyes glued to the papers.

"Everyone here?" Alexander's voice sent shivers down my spine. The same voice that had whispered things in my ear two days ago.

I risked a glance up. Fatal mistake.

His eyes caught mine, and suddenly, I was back in his penthouse, feeling his hands on my skin and his breath hot against my neck. My face burned hotter than fresh coffee.

"Miss Harper?"

I jumped, nearly dropping the remaining reports. "Yes, Mr. Knight?"

"The quarterly projections?"

Right. Work. Professional. I could do this. I shuffled through my papers, willing my racing heart to calm down.

"Here they are." My voice came out squeakier than a mouse in a cheese factory.

Alexander's brow furrowed. "Are you feeling alright? You look flushed."

Of course, I looked flushed.

"Just warm in here." I tugged at my collar, accidentally exposing the fading mark on my neck.

His eyes flickered to the spot, then back to the reports without recognition. Nothing. Not even a flicker of remembrance about our passionate night together.

The meeting droned on. I took notes mechanically, sneaking glances at Alexander between bullet points. He was completely at ease, discussing profit margins like he hadn't rocked my world two days ago.

The meeting finally ended, but my relief was short-lived. Alexander beckoned me into his office with a crook of his finger. My legs turned to jelly as I followed him inside.

He settled into his leather chair like a king on his throne while I hovered near the door like a guilty teenager. The morning sun through the tall windows bathed him in an angelic glow. Unfair. The man looked like he'd just stepped out of a magazine photoshoot while I fought the urge to bolt.

"Close the door, Miss Harper."

I did, my hand trembling slightly on the handle. This was it. He remembered everything and was about to fire me. Or worse, proposition me. I wasn't sure which scenario terrified me more.

"Take a seat." He gestured to the chair across from his desk.

I perched on the edge, ready to sprint at a moment's notice. The leather squeaked beneath me, betraying my nervousness.

Alexander shuffled some papers on his desk, his expression unreadable. My heart performed an Olympic-worthy gymnastics routine in my chest.

"I noticed something concerning." He looked up, those blue eyes piercing right through me.

He remembered everything. I'd be fired, humiliated, and probably end up on some reality TV show called 'I Slept With My Boss.'

"You didn't check in yesterday when I was absent."

Wait, what? Of all the things he could've brought up, he chose this?

"As my PA, I expect you to maintain contact, especially during unexpected absences." His tone carried that signature Alexander Knight authority, making board members squirm and competitors sweat.

My mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. How exactly was I supposed to respond? 'Sorry I didn't check in; I was too busy having an existential crisis after our intense encounter where you called me another woman's name'?

"I apologize, Mr. Knight. I thought..." I thought you were sleeping off whatever happened between us. I thought you needed space. I thought a lot of things, none of which I could say out loud.

"You thought?" Alexander's piercing gaze made my brain cells commit mass suicide.

"I thought... well..." My mouth went drier than the Sahara. What could I say?

A phone's shrill ring cut through the tension. The ringtone echoed through his office like a chorus of angels. Thank you, merciful universe!

Madison

The shrill ring pierced through our conversation like divine intervention. I almost wept with relief.

Alexander raised an eyebrow. "That's your phone."

Oh. Right. My phone. The one currently screaming from my pocket like a banshee with its vocal cords caught in a blender.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Knight." I fumbled my phone, almost dropping it before answering. "Hello?"

"Is this Madison Harper?" A clinical voice cut through the line.

"Speaking."

"This is Metro General Hospital. Your mother, Sarah Harper, was brought to our emergency room-"

The world tilted sideways. The pristine office, Alexander's expensive desk, the Manhattan skyline - everything blurred into meaningless shapes.

"What happened? Is she-"

"She's stable now, but we need you to come in immediately."

I shot up from my chair. "I'll be right there."

"Madison?" Alexander's voice snapped me back to reality. "What's wrong?"

"My mom-she's in the ER. I have to go -" I gestured vaguely at the door.

"John will take you."

"What? No, I can't-"

"John," Alexander spoke into his phone. "Meet Miss Harper downstairs. Take her to Metro General."

"Mr. Knight, really, I can-"

"Go." His tone left no room for argument.

The elevator ride felt endless. John, Alexander's driver, waited by the sleek black car. He opened the door without a word, his usual stern expression softened with concern.

Traffic crawled like molasses. I bounced my knee, checking my phone every thirty seconds. John caught my eye in the rearview mirror.

"We'll be there in five minutes, Miss Harper."

The hospital smell hit me first - that distinct mix of antiseptic and despair. I rushed to the reception desk. "Sarah Harper? She was brought in-"

"Room 304." The nurse pointed toward the elevator. "Dr. Matthews is waiting to speak with you."

Mom looked small in the hospital bed, tubes snaking from her arms. But she was alive. Breathing. The monitor's steady beeping became my favorite sound in the world.

"Ms. Harper?" A doctor materialized beside me, clipboard in hand. "Your mother experienced severe complications from her condition. We managed to stabilize her, but she'll need specialized medication moving forward."

I nodded, relief making my knees weak. "Whatever she needs."

"The treatment plan..." He hesitated. "It's rather extensive. The medications alone-"

My stomach dropped as he quoted the figure. The number had more zeros than my bank account had seen in its entire existence.

"I understand." My voice came out steadier than I felt. "I'll handle it."

The doctor nodded and left me alone with Mom and my spinning thoughts. The amount he'd quoted could buy a luxury car or a designer handbag if you shopped where Alexander did.

The hospital bill loomed over me like a cartoon anvil, ready to drop. My savings wouldn't cover half of it. My credit cards were already maxed from the last hospital stay.

I slumped into the plastic chair next to Mom's bed, designed to make visitors uncomfortable. Maybe they thought discomfort would make people leave faster. Joke's on them - I wasn't going anywhere.

"Of course, we can set up a payment plan," the billing specialist chirped, way too perky for someone dropping financial nuclear bombs. Her badge read 'Janet.'

"Great." I forced a smile. "I'll definitely handle that." Handle it how? By robbing a bank? Selling my organs on the black market?

Janet slid the paperwork across the table, her French manicure tapping against the forms. "Just sign here, here, and... here." She pointed to various dotted lines, as if she were giving directions to Disney World instead of financial ruin.

I scribbled my signature, trying not to think about how each stroke of the pen was basically signing away my firstborn child-and possibly my second and third-just to cover the deductible.

"Perfect!" Janet beamed. "The financial office will contact you to set up the payment schedule."

"Can't wait," I muttered, watching her bounce away in her sensible shoes. I bet she had great health insurance.

Mom stirred in her sleep, and I reached for her hand. The monitor beeped steadily, each sound representing another dollar I didn't have. At this rate, I'd need to win the lottery. Too bad I couldn't afford lottery tickets anymore.

When I finally got home, my apartment felt empty and cold. I'd stayed at the hospital until visiting hours ended, watching Mom sleep and trying not to hyperventilate over the mounting bills.

My phone buzzed. Hazel's face popped up on the screen, caught mid-laugh at some party we'd attended months ago.

I swiped to answer, collapsing onto my couch. "Hey."

"Where have you been? I've been trying to reach you all evening!" Hazel's voice crackled through the speaker.

"Hospital. Mom had another episode."

"Oh god, Mads. Is she okay?"

"Stable now. But..." I pressed my palm against my forehead. "The bills, Haze. They're astronomical. Like, 'sell-both-kidneys-and-maybe-throw-in-a-lung' astronomical."

"How much?"

I quoted the number.

"That's..."

"Yeah." I stared at the ceiling. "I'm thinking of taking out loans, maybe picking up extra hours at work." My voice trailed off. Even with overtime, the math didn't add up. I'd need to work approximately three hundred hours a day, and last I checked, days still only had twenty-four.

Hazel's voice softened. "I can help. I've got some savings-"

"No." I sat up straight. "Absolutely not. You're saving for your photography studio."

"Which can wait. Your mom can't."

"I swear if you try to give me money, I'll replace all your camera lenses with plastic toys."

"Fine." She huffed. "Then let me help another way. I know some people looking for part-time help."

"What kind of help?"

"My friend Emily needs a virtual assistant. Just a few hours in the evenings, all remote. And there's this marketing agency that needs someone for small projects. Also remote."

"You know Knight Industries has a no moonlighting policy."

"Half the accounting department tutors kids on the side. Besides, it's not like you'd be working for competitors. Emily runs a boutique wedding planning business, and the agency handles local restaurants."

I chewed my lip. "How much are we talking?"

"The VA position is thirty an hour, and the agency projects vary but usually pay well."

My mental calculator whirred. That could actually dent the hospital bills.

"But," Hazel's voice turned serious, "if you get caught..."

"I know, I know. Immediate termination, possibly getting blacklisted, eternal shame, cats and dogs living together, mass hysteria."

"I'm just saying be careful."

"When am I not careful?"

"Do you want that list alphabetically or chronologically?"

"I hate you."

"Love you too. I'll send you Emily's contact info."

The next day, I juggled my regular work while sneaking peeks at Sarah's training materials. Multi-tasking reached new heights as I coordinated Alexander's meetings while learning to manage wedding vendor spreadsheets.

"Miss Harper?" Alexander's voice crackled through the intercom.

I shut my laptop, even though he couldn't see the wedding planning guides on my screen. "Yes, Mr. Knight?"

"The Bennett contract?"

Right. The contract I was supposed to review was due an hour ago, before I fell down a rabbit hole of flower arrangement logistics.

"On your desk in five minutes."

I speed-read through forty pages of legal jargon, my brain switching between corporate speak and wedding terminology. I was blaming sleep deprivation if I accidentally wrote "until death do us part" in a merger agreement.

By lunch, my brain felt like scrambled eggs. I inhaled my sandwich while watching tutorial videos on mute, praying no one would question why I was so interested in wedding planning software.

Back at my desk, I rubbed my eyes, willing the spreadsheet to make sense. The numbers danced across the screen like they were auditioning for Broadway, failing miserably.

"Miss Harper."

I nearly jumped out of my skin. Alexander's voice through the intercom shouldn't have startled me - it's not like he installed surround sound just to give me a heart attack - but my nerves were already shot from juggling two jobs and approximately seventeen different kinds of guilt.

"Yes, Mr. Knight?" My voice was higher than a helium balloon at a kid's party.

"Come to my office."