Playing Fire with My Ice-King BOSS: V-Card for One Night, Ring Forever - Chapter 5: Chapter 5
You are reading Playing Fire with My Ice-King BOSS: V-Card for One Night, Ring Forever, Chapter 5: Chapter 5. Read more chapters of Playing Fire with My Ice-King BOSS: V-Card for One Night, Ring Forever.
Isabelle's POV
Second time in the CEO's office.
The space was absolutely massive—a huge mahogany desk, a plush seating area, and what looked like a full kitchenette in the back corner. Way more luxurious than his sterile apartment.
"There's a bedroom back there if you need to crash." He gestured toward a door near his desk as he walked over to his workspace.
I glanced in that direction—it actually looked cozy and lived-in, completely different from that hotel-like place the other night.
God, why do I keep thinking about that?
"I'm good on the couch out here," I said, backing away slightly.
"Whatever works." Jeremiah settled into his chair and immediately dove into a mountain of paperwork.
I made myself comfortable on the leather couch, trying not to think about how weird this whole situation was.
I must have dozed off at some point because when I woke up, it was past 1 AM.
Jeremiah was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, silhouetted against the city lights. Even from behind, the man was stupidly attractive—broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, dress shirt sleeves rolled up revealing surprisingly muscular forearms.
I rubbed my stiff neck, groaning softly as his suit jacket slipped off my shoulders where I must have pulled it over myself while sleeping.
"Do you ever actually go home?" I asked, stretching.
I'd figured he'd retreat to that back room once he finished working.
"Elevator's running again."
"Oh. Right."
"Come on, I'll drive you." He turned around, already reaching for his keys.
"You don't have to do that. I can just grab an Uber downstairs." I stood up, smoothing down my wrinkled clothes.
Jeremiah was already putting on his jacket, clearly not taking no for an answer.
I felt awkward having him escort me out like I was some VIP. The man was persistent as hell.
We were barely out of the elevator when a car horn started blaring behind me in the parking garage. I stepped aside, but the black sedan kept honking.
I turned around, confused.
"Get in."
His voice cut through the concrete space, all authority and that slight rasp that did things to my stomach.
I hesitated for maybe two seconds before sliding into the passenger seat.
That's when another car—a BMW with plates that read 901—came screeching around the corner and tore out of the garage like a bat out of hell.
Both Jeremiah and I watched until the taillights disappeared up the ramp.
The distraction gave me time to realize how ridiculous I looked in this borrowed outfit. The skirt kept riding up no matter how I sat, and the blazer was way too tight across my chest.
Whoever picked out these clothes clearly didn't account for my proportions. I was trying to discreetly adjust everything when—
Pop.
The top button of the blazer gave up and went flying.
Jeremiah's eyes flicked over briefly before he looked away, his jaw tightening slightly.
I grabbed the fabric, holding it closed, my face burning with embarrassment.
Great. Just great.
The silence in the car was suffocating.
Without a word, Jeremiah reached into the back seat and tossed me his suit jacket.
I mumbled a thanks and wrapped it around myself gratefully.
About halfway to my place, he pulled over at this 24-hour dessert shop I'd never noticed before. He came back with something called a "Petal Kiss"—this gorgeous pink milkshake in a clear glass, topped with whipped cream and actual rose petals. It looked like liquid fairy tale.
I thought it was for someone else until he handed it directly to me when we reached my building.
"Here."
I stared at him. "You didn't have to—"
"Just take it."
This was my absolute favorite drink. I used to get one every weekend when I went shopping downtown. The shop was always packed, even at 3 AM.
How the hell did he know that?
I lived in Oak Hill Apartments, about fifteen minutes from Winslet Tower. When Jeremiah pulled up to my building, he waited until I was safely in the elevator before driving away.
I watched from my window as his car disappeared into the night.
The moment I stepped off the elevator, I saw them—yellow tulips scattered across the hallway floor in front of my door, along with a cup of what was probably stone-cold coffee by now.
The whole setup looked like someone had died. How fucking depressing.
My good mood evaporated instantly.
My grandmother used to say, "Trash belongs in the trash can."
I picked up the coffee cup and chucked it into the garbage chute. Then I looked down at the tulips, clenched my jaw, and kicked them toward the trash with my heel.
Screw this guilt-trip bullshit.
I unlocked my door and finally stepped into my sanctuary—my cozy one-bedroom that actually felt like home.
I peeled off Jeremiah's jacket, traded my heels for fuzzy slippers, and headed straight for the bathroom.
The hot shower was exactly what I needed. When I finally emerged, wrapped in my favorite robe, I felt human again.
2:15 AM. I powered on my phone.
Thank god the screen wasn't cracked.
The second it connected, I was hit with a barrage of notifications. Texts, missed calls, Instagram comments—the works.
I marked everything as read without looking, except for one message that caught my eye.
Conrad: "Babe, you didn't pick up or text back. Was getting worried. Got you fresh flowers today—hope you like them! ?"
After five years together, he was still playing Prince Charming. The problem was, his charm was about as authentic as a three-dollar bill these days.
The man was basically running a charity for lonely women at this point.
Even though I came from a broken home, my mom had raised me with serious values. I'd been pretty conservative about physical stuff—Conrad and I had barely gotten past holding hands, even after talking about marriage.
But Thanksgiving night changed everything. While cleaning up after the fashion show, I'd spotted Conrad downtown with Skye. They were all over each other, completely lost in their own little bubble.
I'd known about their affair for months, but seeing it with my own eyes felt like getting punched in the gut.
Jeremiah and Gordon had witnessed my whole breakdown. That's probably why I'd gotten so wasted at the after-party...
Before I knew it, I was scrolling to Jeremiah's contact.
I stared at his name for way too long, then glanced at his jacket draped over my chair and the Petal Kiss sitting on my coffee table.
"Want to try being Mrs. Winslet?"
The question echoed in my head.
What was I even thinking? Just because I was going through relationship drama didn't mean I should jump into something with my boss.
A powerful CEO interested in some random employee? Please. This wasn't a Wattpad romance novel. He probably just felt guilty about what happened and was trying to do damage control.
I opened Instagram and saw that my "trapped at work" post had gone viral within the company. Everyone was commenting about my dedication and work ethic.
Then I noticed something that made my heart skip.
Jeremiah had liked the post.
Wait... had he seen my story and come looking for me? Was that why he'd been in the building so late?
No way. That was ridiculous.
I silently put my phone aside and picked up the milkshake.
One sip—so sweet!
Second time in the CEO's office.
The space was absolutely massive—a huge mahogany desk, a plush seating area, and what looked like a full kitchenette in the back corner. Way more luxurious than his sterile apartment.
"There's a bedroom back there if you need to crash." He gestured toward a door near his desk as he walked over to his workspace.
I glanced in that direction—it actually looked cozy and lived-in, completely different from that hotel-like place the other night.
God, why do I keep thinking about that?
"I'm good on the couch out here," I said, backing away slightly.
"Whatever works." Jeremiah settled into his chair and immediately dove into a mountain of paperwork.
I made myself comfortable on the leather couch, trying not to think about how weird this whole situation was.
I must have dozed off at some point because when I woke up, it was past 1 AM.
Jeremiah was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, silhouetted against the city lights. Even from behind, the man was stupidly attractive—broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, dress shirt sleeves rolled up revealing surprisingly muscular forearms.
I rubbed my stiff neck, groaning softly as his suit jacket slipped off my shoulders where I must have pulled it over myself while sleeping.
"Do you ever actually go home?" I asked, stretching.
I'd figured he'd retreat to that back room once he finished working.
"Elevator's running again."
"Oh. Right."
"Come on, I'll drive you." He turned around, already reaching for his keys.
"You don't have to do that. I can just grab an Uber downstairs." I stood up, smoothing down my wrinkled clothes.
Jeremiah was already putting on his jacket, clearly not taking no for an answer.
I felt awkward having him escort me out like I was some VIP. The man was persistent as hell.
We were barely out of the elevator when a car horn started blaring behind me in the parking garage. I stepped aside, but the black sedan kept honking.
I turned around, confused.
"Get in."
His voice cut through the concrete space, all authority and that slight rasp that did things to my stomach.
I hesitated for maybe two seconds before sliding into the passenger seat.
That's when another car—a BMW with plates that read 901—came screeching around the corner and tore out of the garage like a bat out of hell.
Both Jeremiah and I watched until the taillights disappeared up the ramp.
The distraction gave me time to realize how ridiculous I looked in this borrowed outfit. The skirt kept riding up no matter how I sat, and the blazer was way too tight across my chest.
Whoever picked out these clothes clearly didn't account for my proportions. I was trying to discreetly adjust everything when—
Pop.
The top button of the blazer gave up and went flying.
Jeremiah's eyes flicked over briefly before he looked away, his jaw tightening slightly.
I grabbed the fabric, holding it closed, my face burning with embarrassment.
Great. Just great.
The silence in the car was suffocating.
Without a word, Jeremiah reached into the back seat and tossed me his suit jacket.
I mumbled a thanks and wrapped it around myself gratefully.
About halfway to my place, he pulled over at this 24-hour dessert shop I'd never noticed before. He came back with something called a "Petal Kiss"—this gorgeous pink milkshake in a clear glass, topped with whipped cream and actual rose petals. It looked like liquid fairy tale.
I thought it was for someone else until he handed it directly to me when we reached my building.
"Here."
I stared at him. "You didn't have to—"
"Just take it."
This was my absolute favorite drink. I used to get one every weekend when I went shopping downtown. The shop was always packed, even at 3 AM.
How the hell did he know that?
I lived in Oak Hill Apartments, about fifteen minutes from Winslet Tower. When Jeremiah pulled up to my building, he waited until I was safely in the elevator before driving away.
I watched from my window as his car disappeared into the night.
The moment I stepped off the elevator, I saw them—yellow tulips scattered across the hallway floor in front of my door, along with a cup of what was probably stone-cold coffee by now.
The whole setup looked like someone had died. How fucking depressing.
My good mood evaporated instantly.
My grandmother used to say, "Trash belongs in the trash can."
I picked up the coffee cup and chucked it into the garbage chute. Then I looked down at the tulips, clenched my jaw, and kicked them toward the trash with my heel.
Screw this guilt-trip bullshit.
I unlocked my door and finally stepped into my sanctuary—my cozy one-bedroom that actually felt like home.
I peeled off Jeremiah's jacket, traded my heels for fuzzy slippers, and headed straight for the bathroom.
The hot shower was exactly what I needed. When I finally emerged, wrapped in my favorite robe, I felt human again.
2:15 AM. I powered on my phone.
Thank god the screen wasn't cracked.
The second it connected, I was hit with a barrage of notifications. Texts, missed calls, Instagram comments—the works.
I marked everything as read without looking, except for one message that caught my eye.
Conrad: "Babe, you didn't pick up or text back. Was getting worried. Got you fresh flowers today—hope you like them! ?"
After five years together, he was still playing Prince Charming. The problem was, his charm was about as authentic as a three-dollar bill these days.
The man was basically running a charity for lonely women at this point.
Even though I came from a broken home, my mom had raised me with serious values. I'd been pretty conservative about physical stuff—Conrad and I had barely gotten past holding hands, even after talking about marriage.
But Thanksgiving night changed everything. While cleaning up after the fashion show, I'd spotted Conrad downtown with Skye. They were all over each other, completely lost in their own little bubble.
I'd known about their affair for months, but seeing it with my own eyes felt like getting punched in the gut.
Jeremiah and Gordon had witnessed my whole breakdown. That's probably why I'd gotten so wasted at the after-party...
Before I knew it, I was scrolling to Jeremiah's contact.
I stared at his name for way too long, then glanced at his jacket draped over my chair and the Petal Kiss sitting on my coffee table.
"Want to try being Mrs. Winslet?"
The question echoed in my head.
What was I even thinking? Just because I was going through relationship drama didn't mean I should jump into something with my boss.
A powerful CEO interested in some random employee? Please. This wasn't a Wattpad romance novel. He probably just felt guilty about what happened and was trying to do damage control.
I opened Instagram and saw that my "trapped at work" post had gone viral within the company. Everyone was commenting about my dedication and work ethic.
Then I noticed something that made my heart skip.
Jeremiah had liked the post.
Wait... had he seen my story and come looking for me? Was that why he'd been in the building so late?
No way. That was ridiculous.
I silently put my phone aside and picked up the milkshake.
One sip—so sweet!
End of Playing Fire with My Ice-King BOSS: V-Card for One Night, Ring Forever Chapter 5. Continue reading Chapter 6 or return to Playing Fire with My Ice-King BOSS: V-Card for One Night, Ring Forever book page.