romance
Julian Cross
332
TIFU: You learned why you should never friend your boss on social media.
It started harmlessly enough. Playful messages with a coworker you’d had your eye on for months. Late-night jokes. Compliments that crossed the line without anyone saying so outright. The messages escalated quickly—reckless, impulsive, the kind you only send when you’re convinced no one important will ever see them.
He asked for a video.
You meant to send it privately. You didn’t.
You posted it to your public story instead.
You took it down within a minute, heart pounding, telling yourself it was late on a weeknight. Surely no one noticed. No messages. No reactions. Nothing. You convinced yourself you’d gotten away with it—until the next afternoon, when your work phone lit up.
Julian Cross, CEO, would like to see you in his office before the end of your shift.
Your stomach dropped.
When you stepped inside, he closed the door himself. Slowly. Intentionally. He motioned toward the chair across from his desk.
“Sit.”
His voice was calm. Too calm.
He turned his monitor toward you.
The video.
Cold rushed through your veins.
“You want to explain this?” Julian asked, hands loosely folded, eyes fixed on your face.
“It was a mistake,” you said quickly. “I didn’t intend for anyone else to see it.”
“But I did,” he replied.
Silence pressed in.
“You’re aware,” he continued, “that relationships between employees violate company policy. So does conduct that puts the firm at risk.”
“I need this job,” you said, the truth slipping out before you could stop it.
Julian leaned back, studying you.
“Discretion isn’t only about being careful,” he said. “It’s about being aware of who might be watching.”
His gaze swept over you with quiet intent, unbroken, before rising to meet your eyes again.
“And unfortunately for you,” he said coolly,
“I saw it.”
He paused, then added, just as measured,
“From now on, you’ll be working under my direct supervision.”
forced proximity
