Chapter 3 Oops.... I Married My Boss

June's Pov

*One Month Later...*

The air in the glass tower of Harrington Architecture & Development Group didn't feel like normal oxygen; it felt expensive and thick with collective panic. Ten of us from the Graduate Development Program were lined up like neat little soldiers in the sprawling, minimalist corporate lobby, our matching black orientation lanyards weighing down our necks. Everybody else was standing perfectly straight, frantically smoothing down their tailored blazers. I was just trying not to pass out. My first day as a Junior Interior Designer had barely started, and my feet were already staging a violent protest inside my cheap target flats.

"Listen up, everyone," the HR coordinator clapped her hands, her voice a sharp drop in the quiet space. "We are heading up to the executive wing now. The Acting CEO will be making his rounds to personally review your desk placements. Maintain absolute professionalism."

I let out a shaky breath, whispering to myself, You've got this, June. Just don't trip. For the love of God, don't trip.

The elevator ride to the top floor felt like climbing a scaffold. When the doors slid open, the luxury layout made my jaw drop. Polished white marble floors reflected the towering glass ceiling, and the walls were decorated with flawless, multi-million dollar blueprints of skyscrapers and smart cities. It was an interior designer's ultimate wonderland. But the breathless awe didn't last long. The moment we stepped into the open concept design department, the entire atmosphere changed.

The low hum of keyboards and hushed phone calls completely died.

"He's coming," someone whispered loudly from a cubicle. Instantly, every single senior architect and designer stood up at their desk, hands folded politely. The tension in the room was so thick you could carve it with a drafting knife. I squeezed my notebook tightly against my chest as footsteps echoed sharply against the marble floor.

Then, Callum Harrington walked in. Seriously? Does smiling cost this man actual money? That was my very first thought. He was thirty two, devastatingly hot, and radiating a level of raw, intimidating power that could freeze hot water. He wore a crisp, tailored navy suit that molded perfectly to his broad shoulders, his eyes, cold, piercing, and completely devoid of warmth, scanned the room like a hawk looking for weak prey. He didn't just walk into the department, he owned the entire building by mere existence.

"Mr. Harrington," the head of our department stepped forward, bowing her head slightly. "These are the new graduate trainees assigned to the flagship architecture and design department."

Callum didn't speak immediately. He stopped right in front of our line, his icy gaze lingering on each of us. When his eyes landed on me, my breath caught. I forced a stiff, awkward smile, but his expression didn't even flicker. He just looked at my unpolished flats, up to my slightly loose blazer, and back to my face before speaking in a deep, baritone voice that sent a shiver through my spine.

"I expect zero margin of error," Callum stated, his voice flat and terrifyingly quiet. "Incompetence is an infectious disease in this firm. I don't quarantine it. I eliminate it. Welcome to Harrington Group."

Before any of us could reply, he spun on his heel and strode toward his massive corner office, his assistant scurrying behind him. The HR coordinator turned to me with a sympathetic look. "Miss Brooks, because your portfolio focused heavily on luxury hospitality spaces, you've been assigned to the desk directly outside Mr. Harrington's office. You will be handling his direct design formatting and internal reviews."

My heart plummeted straight into my stomach. Directly under him? Splendid. Just splendid.

By midday, my nerves had completely taken over. I was sitting at my sleek new desk, sweating profusely as I tried to compile a highly confidential design concept draft for an upcoming luxury hotel project in Dubai. It was a massive, billion-dollar contract. My job was simply to clean up the typography on the spatial layouts and save it into Callum's private digital folder.

"June, did you finish the layout formatting?" a senior designer popped her head over my cubicle.

"The client's board is waiting for an update, and Mr. Harrington needs to see the draft first. Don't send anything out."

"Just finishing the last page!" I called back, my fingers flying across the keyboard.

I was so anxious, my mind running a mile a minute thinking about Ryan, the bills, and my determination to prove I belonged here, but my coordination completely failed me. My finger twitched on the mouse. Instead of clicking the tiny 'Save Draft to Server' icon, my clumsy hand slipped. The cursor flew across the screen, hovering over the corporate email interface that was open in the background.

Click.

My stomach violently turned over. I hadn't saved it. I had just hit 'Reply All' on a global email thread that included the entire foreign investment board, sending a highly unfinished, messy design concept filled with placeholder text and raw sketches directly to our most important client.

"Oh my god," I gasped, staring at the screen in absolute horror. "No, no, no! Undo! Recall!"

Suddenly, the heavy oak door to Callum's office flew open. He stood in the doorway, his face dangerously pale, his jaw clenched so tight the muscles were pulsing.

"June Brooks!" his voice boomed across the entire floor, making three people nearby drop their pens. "In my office. Now."

I stumbled out of my chair, my legs shaking so badly I could barely walk. When I stepped into his office, the heavy door slammed shut behind me. Callum was leaning over his desk, his palms pressed flat against the mahogany surface, staring at me with pure, unadulterated fury.

"Are you completely illiterate, or just fundamentally stupid?" he hissed, his voice dropping to a terrifying, quiet venom. "I just spent the last two minutes on a high speed secure server intercepting a half baked, catastrophic email draft before it reached the Dubai ministry. If that email had landed in their inbox, we would have lost a three billion-dollar contract before lunch."

"Mr. Harrington, I am so incredibly sorry," I pleaded, my voice cracking as tears pricked the corners of my eyes. "My hand slipped on the mouse, it was a complete accident...."

"I don't care about your hand, and I don't care about your excuses," Callum cut me off, stepping around the desk until he was towering over me, his icy glare boring into my soul. "You are incompetent. Clumsy. A total liability. I am putting a red flag on your file today. If you commit one more mistake... even a single typo, you are fired on the spot. Get out of my sight."

I choked back a sob, nodded rapidly, and rushed out of his office, burying my face in my hands at my desk.

By three in the afternoon, I was a walking ghost. I had spent hours double and triple checking a stack of physical project logs and material acquisition paperwork that required his immediate signature. I walked back up to his door, knocked softly, and stepped inside.

Callum was sitting back in his chair, rubbing his temples, looking profoundly frustrated and stressed out. He looked up as I entered.

"Mr. Harrington, I have the final project logs and the material acquisition documents that need your authorization," I said quietly, keeping my voice professional.

He didn't answer. He didn't even look at me. He just kept staring out the window, his expression dark and completely exhausted, drowning in his own stress.

Assuming he just wanted me to leave the files, I walked over and carefully dropped the thick stack of paperwork directly onto the center of his desk, right over a pile of scattered legal documents he had been messy handling earlier. I turned on my heel, about to slip out of his office before he could yell at me again.

"Hold on," Callum's sharp voice barked, stopping me right at the threshold. I turned around slowly. He was staring at the pile of papers I had just laid down, his eyes dark with irritation.

"I don't sign anything blindly," Callum muttered, pulling the entire combined stack of paperwork toward himself. He grabbed an expensive fountain pen from his holder and shoved the papers across the desk, right back toward me. "Sign the employee acknowledgment line at the bottom of the stack first. I require every graduate trainee to sign off as the preparer of these documents before I review them. That way, if I notice a single misspelling or a calculation error later, I know exactly who to hold accountable."

"Of course, sir," I nodded quickly, desperate to please him and secure my job.

Believing it was just the standard corporate layout forms I had brought in, I didn't look closely. I was too intimidated by his burning stare. I grabbed the pen, flipped to the page with the blank line, and quickly scribbled my full signature: June Brooks. But as I went to flip to the other page, sign and hand it back to him, my eyes caught the bold, official legal header at the top of the document. It didn't say Harrington Project Logs.

It read: CERTIFICATE OF MARRIAGE - STATE DECREE.

And right next to my fresh signature, in bold, aggressive ink, was his name: Callum Harrington with his own signature.

My breath completely vanished from my lungs. A sharp, loud scream tore from my throat before I could even stop it. "Oh my god!!"

Callum jumped slightly, his icy composure breaking as his eyes snapped to mine. "What the hell is wrong with you now, Brooks? I told you to stop yelling in my...."

"Look!" I shrieked, my finger shaking violently as I pointed at the paper, shoving it right into his face. "Look what you made me sign, sir!"

Callum snatched the document from my hands. As his eyes scanned the text, his entire body went completely rigid. The color drained from his face, his lips parting in absolute, utter shock. He stared at my signature, then at his own, and back up at me. "You..." Callum stammered, his voice losing all its cold authority for a split second. "You just signed the court decree. My mother... she....."

"Your mother is not the main subject here!" I cried, panic spiraling out of control. "This is!!" "Undo this! Wipe it off!"

The shock on Callum's face instantly hardened back into pure, defensive fury. He slammed his hand on the desk, standing up abruptly. "Silence! You signed a legally binding state document without reading it! Your sheer incompetence has just created a catastrophic legal nightmare for this entire conglomerate!"

"You shoved it at me!" I yelled back, tears finally spilling over my cheeks. "You told me to sign it!"

"And you did it blindly like a fool!" Callum roared, his eyes flashing with dangerous anger. "That's it. I'm done. You are a loose cannon, Brooks. You are fired! Pack your things and get out of my building right now!"

I didn't even wait. I turned around, grabbed my bag, and ran out of the executive suite sobbing hysterically.

The next twenty four hours were a living hell. I sat on our small apartment couch, wrapped in a blanket, staring blankly at the wall while Ryan tried his best to comfort me. He had bought me comfort food, holding my hand and telling me we would find something else, but the guilt was eating me alive. I had ruined everything on my very first day. I had legally married a billionaire stranger and gotten fired before the sun even set. I felt completely broken, angry at the world, and utterly devastated.

Then the next day, in the afternoon, my phone rang. It was an official line from the Harrington executive suite.

"Miss Brooks, Mr. Harrington requests your immediate presence in his office. A private car is outside your apartment building now."

When I walked back into his office an hour later, the atmosphere was entirely different. The curtains were drawn, and Callum was pacing the floor, looking completely cornered. He stopped when he saw me, closing the door firmly behind me.

"Sit down, June," he said, his voice surprisingly calm, though filled with a strange, heavy weight. I remained standing, crossing my arms over my chest, glaring at him through dry eyes. "I'm fired, remember? Why am I here, Mr. Harrington? To sign the divorce papers?"

"No," Callum said, walking over to his desk and leaning against it. He looked directly into my eyes, his expression dead serious. "I'm offering you a deal."

I frowned. "A deal?"

"Marriage is the last thing on my mind now, i don't believe in that kind of commitment but my mother is using that marriage certificate to force my hand, believing I should be married inorder to be able to handle a conglomerate. If I annul it right now, she will still force me to marry another person or worse.... invoke a board clause to strip me of my position as Acting CEO and hand the flagship company over to my brother's family. I will lose everything I've built." Callum leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low, intense whisper. "I need you to play my fake wife. We play married, act like we are deeply in love, we show up to a few family events to keep my mother off my back, and in return..."

He paused, holding his breath. "...I will reinstate you immediately. No probation. No training wheels. You get a permanent title as a Senior Interior Designer, a massive, handsome salary increase and you can finally support your brother for the rest of his life, and I guarantee you will never face a threat of losing your job in this industry again."

I stood there, completely dumbfounded, at first i thought how could he possibly have known about my brother and how desperate i was for a job but on second thought, he is rich and for rich people to offer you this kind of deal they must have done a background check. My heart hammered wildly in my chest. Fake marriage? To this arrogant, cold monster? It was absolutely insane. I hated the entire concept.

"This is crazy," I whispered, shaking my head. "Sorry sir but with all due respect... You're crazy." "Honestly, i can't do that. It's a lie. It's illegal."

"It's a transaction, June," Callum pressed, his dark eyes locking onto mine with an overwhelming, desperate intensity. "Think about your brother. Think about the stable career you've been begging for over the last year. One choice, and you never have to worry about a job interview again."

I opened my mouth to refuse, but the image of Ryan's tired face flashed in my mind, all the double shifts he had worked, all the sacrifices he had made just so I could hold a degree. This was the one thing I had been so desperate for. A job. And it's been offered to me on a platter regardless of being fired just yesterday.

I swallowed hard, looking at the terrifying billionaire standing before me. "Fine," I whispered, my voice trembling as I sealed my fate. "I'll play your fake wife."