The Intern's Guide to Ruining the CEO's Life

On my first day as an intern, I accidentally walked in on the CEO changing his clothes. "You're the first woman bold enough to pull a stunt like this.

Start thinking about how you're going to take responsibility." Looking at the billionaire boss standing before me, totally lost in his own badboy alpha fantasy, I shoved him back with utter conviction in my eyes. "Mr.

Hayes, my dog has more defined abs than you." Phew. That was close. I almost ended up in a relationship.

After graduation, sheer dumb luck landed me a gig as an intern secretary at Vanguard Global, the biggest corporate powerhouse in the city.

Still, from day one, something felt terribly off about my boss.

On my very first morning, I was already running around like a headless chicken, darting between departments until my heels practically caught fire. "Ann, take this contract over to Mr.

Hayes so he can look it over." I had barely sat down to catch my breath—my butt hadn't even warmed the seat—before another task was dumped on me.

According to the office grapevine, our CEO, Julian Hayes, was a man of few words. Cold as a glacier, unapproachable, and totally ruthless.

Standing outside his office, my stomach was tied in knots. I was terrified that one tiny misstep would get me fired on the spot. "Mr. Hayes?

Are you in there?" I clutched the folder to my chest and knocked for what felt like forever, but nobody answered. The door was cracked open just a sliver.

After hesitating for a second, I gently pushed it open. A split second later, pure regret hit me like a truck.

What kind of highpowered corporate mogul changes his clothes right in the middle of a sunlit office?

His bare, pale chest and completely shirtless torso crashed right into my field of vision. I froze like a deer in the headlights.

Hearing the door, he spun around, and our eyes locked. The sheer, unadulterated mortification of that moment was beyond words.

I whipped around to sprint out, yelling at the top of my lungs that I hadn't seen a single thing.

Julian dashed forward like an Olympic sprinter, slammed the door shut, and effectively caged me against it with his arms.

He hovered in that intensely intimate posture, leaning down, and whispered: "You're the first woman bold enough to pull a stunt like this.

Start thinking about how you're going to take responsibility." Wait. What??? What happened to the stoic, heartless ice prince everyone warned me about?

Why on earth was he reciting cheesy lines ripped straight from a trashy billionaire romance novel? And why was he talking in that deep, forced vocal fry?

The secondhand embarrassment was so greasy it made my scalp tingle and my toes curl inside my shoes.

I shoved him away with the righteous determination of a warrior charging into battle. "Mr.

Hayes, my dog has more defined abs than you." The words flew out of my mouth before my brain could stop them, shocking even myself.

Still, to save whatever pathetic shred of dignity I had left, I forced a poker face, whipped the door open, and bolted down the hall.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Julian’s face. It was darker than a thundercloud. I’m dead. I’m so dead.

Getting fired on day one of my internship because I told my boss his abs were worse than my dog's? If word gets out, people will laugh at my funeral.

For the rest of the day, I sat at my desk jumping at every shadow, constantly glancing toward HR, terrified an officer would walk out holding a cardboard box and telling me to pack my things.

Yet when clockout time rolled around, no termination notice came. After racking my brain for ages, it finally clicked. Oh... Julian was probably too humiliated.

I mean, an ultrawealthy CEO losing an ab contest to an intern's dog?

He'd rather take it to his grave. "Hahahahaha." The thought made me snort out loud right there in the takeout place. "What's so funny?" A crisp, chilled voice dripped with ground teeth directly over my head.

I tilted my head back and found myself staring straight into Julian’s deeply resentful, brooding eyes.

He towered over me by at least a head and a half, looking down like an ominous shadow. Are you freaking kidding me?

How cursed is my luck that I run into my boss while grabbing cheap takeout after work? "Mr.

Hayes... you're not stalking me, are you?" I don't know what wire crossed in my brain, but I plastered on a tight, ridiculous grin and let that tumble out, turning an already agonizing situation into a complete train wreck.

Julian’s face cycled from fury to shock to absolute speechlessness. It was truly a cinematic performance. Meanwhile, I shrank into myself, desperate to grab my food and flee.

Don't ask why I didn't run right then and there. I was starving, and I was literally next in line. Giving up now was out of the question. Nothing stands between me and my dinner.

Not even Julian Hayes. Okay, scratch that. Julian Hayes definitely could. The moment I grabbed my takeout bag and turned to dash, Julian snatched me by my hoodie. ............

What was this, carrying a helpless little kitten by the scruff? I tried wriggling, but all it did was choke me. Totally useless.

Julian calmly ordered a bowl of spicy noodles, took the tray from the cashier with one hand, and dragged me along toward an empty booth like a piece of carryon luggage.

No matter how many people stared at us on the way, he refused to let go. Even though his other hand was trembling under the weight of the tray. Keep acting tough, buddy.

See if you don't drop dead from exhaustion. I rolled my eyes, keeping all my commentary safely locked in my head.

"Ann, right? The new intern?" Julian asked between slurping his noodles.

I silently pushed the veggies around in my bowl and nodded. "My abs are worse than your dog's?" My fork froze in midair. My gears spun at lightspeed.

In that single second, my brain operated faster than it ever had in my entire life. "Honestly? Yeah." Sometimes I really wish I could just staple my mouth shut.

Those two words made the suitwearing CEO across from me violently choke on his noodles, coughing his lungs out. A chance for redemption!

Moving with blinding speed, I bolted to the counter, grabbed a bottle of cold juice, twisted the cap off thoughtfully, and handed it to him.

Julian chugged a huge gulp before finally catching his breath. Smacking his lips, he asked what it was, admitting it tasted pretty good.

Beaming with pride, I told him I’d just grabbed a chilled mango smoothie from the fridge. "What kind of smoothie?" Julian’s voice spiked an entire octave.

Startled, I stammered and repeated myself. Suddenly, Julian abandoned all corporate composure and shoved his fingers down his throat, trying to gag himself.

It wasn't until his face broke out in violent red hives and blew up like a giant pumpkin that I realized—the guy had a severe mango allergy...

Terrified half to death, I forgot all about my dinner. I kept yelling at him to stay conscious while frantically dialing 911.

Only when the paramedics loaded him into the ambulance did I finally let out a breath. What a day.

Day one on the job, insulted the boss's physique, and then nearly assassinated him with a mango smoothie.

When I showed up at the office the next morning, word was already spreading that Julian was out for the day.

The bullpen was buzzing with gossip. "Hey, Ann, do you know what happened?" A coworker from the next desk leaned over with a bag of chips, her face full of juicy curiosity.

Julian was a notorious workaholic who was always the first person in the building. Him skipping work was practically an apocalyptic event, so everyone was dying to know why.

My lips twitched into an awkward grimace as I lied through my teeth, claiming I had no clue. "Wait, wait! Everyone look! Mr. Hayes just posted on Ins!" My stomach plummeted.

I tapped on his profile, and there he was, lying flat on a hospital bed.

His face was still noticeably swollen, looking like a bruised balloon, wearing the tragic, pouty expression of an abandoned puppy.

The real kicker was his caption: [Life advice: Never eat dinner with an intern. It's lethal.] ...Bro, could you make it any more obvious?

Instantly, every single pair of eyes in the office locked onto me. I wanted to cry. I was literally the only intern at the entire Vanguard headquarters.

I couldn't even find a scapegoat if my life depended on it.

I waved my hands frantically, desperate to spin an excuse, but the very next second, Julian materialized at the office doors, hammering the final nail into my coffin. "Ann, you sure ran fast yesterday, leaving me to drag my own IV pole to the billing counter." He stood in the middle of the floor, calling me out by name.

Staring at his stillslightlypuffy face, I was caught in an agonizing tugofwar between sheer terror and bursting into laughter.

By midday, racked with guilt, I decided the only way to make amends was to cook him a homemade lunch.

Using a bathroom break as cover, I snuck into the executive lounge kitchenette and rummaged through the fridge. I found some short ribs and a couple of eggs.

Pausing, I whipped out my phone to test the waters with Julian. [Mr.

Hayes, hypothetically speaking... if you accidentally eat an egg, will you drop dead?] [?] A question mark appeared in my SnapChat immediately. I scratched my head.

Did I phrase the allergy question too subtly? Before I could clarify, another message popped up. [Unless it's spiked with mango, no.] Wow. Petty much? My lips twitched.

I didn't text back, just washed my hands and got to work on my peaceoffering bento.

When I finished, I stared down at the gorgeous, mouthwatering steak and lobster spread, nodding in deep satisfaction.

Right as the lunch break hit, I grabbed the container and tiptoed toward Julian’s corner office. The moment he saw me, he flinched, instinctively taking two steps back.

I cautiously approached his massive desk, set the lunchbox down, and gave him a flawless ninetydegree bow. "Mr. Hayes, I am so sorry.

I truly had no idea you were allergic to mangoes. Please accept this peace offering." My extreme solemnity seemed to freak him out.

His voice wavered. "Can you... stand up?" Then, like the world's most attentive waitress, I handed him his forks, popped open the lid, and poured him a drink, having carefully labeled the cup with a sticky note that read "ORANGE JUICE".

Julian watched my fivestar service with utter bewilderment, but the aroma rising from the steak quickly reeled him in. Heh. My cooking is Michelinlevel, buddy.

Resistance is futile. I watched proudly as he swallowed hard—and then produced a little silver testing needle from his drawer. ............

Is there really zero trust left between human beings? He poked through both dishes, the rice, and the juice.

Once he confirmed the needle didn't change color, a satisfied smirk spread across his face, and he finally dug in. "Not bad. It's actually really good. You're forgiven.

But I still remember what you said about my abs and your dog." Some billionaire. A cricket has a bigger heart than you.

I secretly rolled my eyes while keeping a placid customerservice smile plastered on my face.

After standing by and serving him until he was stuffed, Julian patted his mouth with a napkin and actually gave me a thumbsup. Thank god. Crisis averted.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I started clearing the desk. Julian leaned back in his leather chair, his gaze boring into me without blinking.

It gave me the creeps, so I sped up my cleaning. "Ann, this was all calculated, wasn't it?" Just as I grabbed the trash bag to leave, Julian spoke up again, slipping right back into that cringey, gravelly vocal fry.

Out of basic politeness, I paused and asked what he meant.

Julian flipped his hair with theatrical confidence, threw me a greasy wink, and used a voice that sounded like a flipflop was lodged in his throat to try and charm the pants off me: "First, you insulted my abs to get my attention.

Then you engineered a 'coincidental' dinner runin. You handed me that mango juice knowing full well about my allergy just to set up this whole homemade meal apology today.

Am I right? You really put a lot of effort into chasing me." Lord... someone call an exorcist. It took every ounce of my willpower not to chuck the trash bag straight at his head.

To nip his delusions in the bud once and for all, I locked eyes with him, radiating cold, unbreakable conviction. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hayes. I'm into girls."