

Description
Jocelyn shared one unforgettable night with a stranger behind masks at a charity gala-a night that left her pregnant and him haunted by a woman who vanished before dawn. When she woke in his hotel room and glimpsed the massive tiger tattoo sprawling across his back, she recognized the symbol and fled in terror before he woke. Realizing that sleeping with such a dangerous man was a catastrophic mistake. Now, seven years later, Jocelyn's working for the biggest bastard in corporate America to pay for a six-year-old's cancer treatment. Zayden Wolfe treats her like broken office equipment, but his money keeps the kid alive. And she'd do anything to save her daughter. But one night, Jocelyn faced the devastating truth-she had found the father of her daughter, and when corporate warfare meets maternal fury, everything explodes.
Chapter 1
Oct 16, 2026
Author’s Note:
Hello, dears!
Before you dive into the story, I just want to say a huge thank you!
This book has received so much love and attention, and honestly, it still amazes me.
I’ve read every single one of your comments. Some made me smile, some made me laugh, and some pointed out mistakes I never noticed on my own. You didn’t just read my story, you helped me make it better, and helped me grow as a writer too!
The chapters ahead have been freshly edited, and I really think you’re going to love how they turned out.
Thank you for sticking with me and with these characters!
Send love to y'all!
* * *
POV Jocelyn
“Shoot, shoot, SHOOT—”
The words tear from my throat like a battle cry. My heel catches the elevator threshold like it’s personally offended by my existence.
I’m airborne for exactly two seconds. Papers explode from my death grip like the world’s saddest confetti. My coffee launches across pristine marble flooring that probably costs more per square foot than I make in a month.
My dignity? Already dead and buried six feet under.
I hit that floor like a meteor strike, and somewhere in the distance, I swear I hear the universe laughing.
“Smooth, Jocelyn. Real brilliant move.”
I’m scrambling on hands and knees, chasing scattered documents across marble that’s so polished I can see my own mortified expression reflected back at me.
This is it. This is how I lose the only job that could save Mia’s life.
Face-first on the 43rd floor of some corporate palace that screams money and intimidation from every surface.
“Ma’am, are you—”
“I’m fine!” The words snap out harder than I intended, but panic makes me sharp-edged.
The secretary behind the massive desk looks like she’d rather call security than acknowledge my existence. Her name plate gleams in gold letters: Patricia.
“Just… me versus physics. Physics won, I guess.” I’m hauling myself upright, while my hands won’t stop shaking, and it has nothing to do with the fall.
Twenty-six hours at the hospital watching your six-year-old fight cancer will do that to you. Sleep becomes optional when your kid’s life hangs in the balance.
Patricia’s mouth twists like she’s tasting something particularly unpleasant. “Mr. Wolfe doesn’t tolerate—”
“Disruptions. Crystal clear.” I straighten up, trying to look like a functioning adult instead of a tornado survivor.
The mantra starts looping in my head like a broken record: ‘Don’t mess this up, Jocelyn. You can’t afford to.’
Triple salary.
The words dance in my vision like a mirage.
Enough for Mia’s treatment. Enough for the experimental therapy her doctors mentioned in hushed tones. Enough to maybe—maybe—keep my baby alive and healthy.
If I don’t faceplant again in the next five minutes.
“You’re the new assistant?” Patricia’s voice could freeze hell over and charge admission.
“That’s me. Professional disaster, at your service.” The sarcasm slips out before I can stop it, but I’m past caring.
A door slams behind Patricia’s desk, and the sound ricochets through the space like a gunshot.
Then CEO walks out, like he owns the world.
Broad shoulders in a charcoal suit, sleeves rolled up. Hair that’s somewhere between gold and ash, perfectly tousled.
Phone pressed to his ear, voice cutting through the air like a blade: “I don’t give a damn what Shanghai thinks. Fire them. All of them. I want new contractors by morning.”
Then he turns and those eyes hit me like a freight train.
Green like sea surface, like emeralds, like every cliché poets use. They’re sharp enough to cut glass and focused enough to dissect my soul in under three seconds.
There’s something about him. Something that pulls at the edges of my memory like a half-forgotten dream.
The recognition hits like déjà vu mixed with something deeper.
“You’re late.” He ends his call and slides the phone into his pocket without breaking eye contact.
“Sorry, traffic was—”
“I don’t want excuses. I want results and discipline.”
His voice is low and measured, clipped and commanding.
“Right. Results and discipline. Got it.” I sound breathless and hate how obvious it is.
He’s already moving. “Conference room. Cunningham files. Twenty minutes.”
“Which Cunningham files?”
He stops. Pivots. “The ones you should have reviewed instead of… whatever happened this morning.”
Ouch. Direct hit.
“I was at the hospital…”
“Personal problems stay personal. This is business.”
The next eight hours test every nerve I have. Every order lands like a judgment. He critiques my filing system, my coffee, even how I answer the phone.
Nothing I do is right.
But I need this job. Mia needs this job.
So I bite my tongue and push through.
There’s something about him—maybe just the pressure, the power, the stakes. Whatever it is, it leaves me unsettled.
At exactly five o’clock, I bolt from that building like it’s on fire.
Straight to the hospital. Straight to Mia. Straight to the only thing that matters.
She’s awake when I slip into her room, dark curls spread across the pillow like a halo. Those huge light-green eyes, that came from someone I try very hard not to think about, light up when she sees me.
“Mama! Look what I drew!”
Another tiger. Always tigers.
This one is orange and black, with fierce eyes and powerful paws. She’s been drawing them for months now.
“Why tigers, baby?”
She considers it seriously. “Because they’re brave and strong. Like my daddy would be if I had one.”
My heart twists. “Mia, sweetheart…”
“I know I don’t have a daddy. That’s okay, Mama. But sometimes I pretend he’d be like a tiger. Powerful and protective. He’d fight the bad things and keep us safe.”
My hand moves to the birthmark on my collarbone without thinking.
Seven years ago. A gala I never wanted to attend. Champagne. Masks. A stranger who made me feel alive. Eyes that burned. A voice full of warmth.
A night that changed everything.
I left before he woke. Before I could fall harder.
Before I could tell him the truth.
Somewhere in this city, that stranger lives his life—successful, powerful, unaware. While his daughter dreams of a father strong enough to save her.
He has no idea she exists. No idea she’s fighting for her life. No idea he gave me the most beautiful thing in my world.
The child he never knew he had.
________________

My Boss, My Babydaddy
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My Passion
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