Boss's Sweet Secretary

"Hansy... Don't go."

Rose grimaced looking at her hand as feverish Jennifer almost crushed her hand. She couldn't help but complain, " You come to my house to eat and drink my food, I even let you sleep in my bed, but you are still thinking about another man. You are so heartless."

The mobile phone on the carpet by her side had stopped ringing. Hans had always thought that he was better than everyone else. Rose thought that it was nothing short of a miracle that he would even call her three times.

As Rose's home was shrouded in sadness, on the other side of California, in a famous hotel apartment, a tall and lanky man had just returned from the concert today, and he looked tired.

For so many years, he had been working hard abroad and he finally had the ability to be financially independent of his family. He wanted to come back and be with Jennifer at all costs, but things didn't go his way. When he came back, she was no longer there.

His agent, Bastain and his assistant moved the gifts from the fans to the living room of the apartment. One of the gifts was especially eye-catching. It was a huge black box as tall as a person, and it required two assistants to carry in.

Bastain's eagle eye noticed the logo on the black box. "Wow, is this a musical instrument sent by a rich fan? This brand is 100% hand-made and it's not cheap. They only make a few instruments each year." The female assistant smiled and shook her head. "These fans, when they like you, they will give you everything. But they can also be cruel beyond your imagination."

Bastain knew what she was talking about. He let out a hollow laugh and turned to open the black box.

The masterfully made guitar looked particularly grandeur in the black wooden box, revealing its classical elegance.

"Jackson, come and have a look. This is a really good guitar."

Jackson was also a musical instrument lover. He saw this guitar in Italy a long time ago. At that time, he left in a hurry and did not have time to buy it. When he returned, the shop had already sold it. Now it suddenly appeared here, and he had no idea who went through all these troubles for him.

His vexation seemed to have subsided a little. He got up from the sofa and walked to the black box, reaching out to touch the smooth strings of the guitar.

"Bastain, check which fan sent it and pay them back."

After all, it was worth tens of thousands of dollars. He couldn't let his fans spend that money.

Bastain was used to it and said, "Look at you, other people like to receive gifts from their fans, but you're too pretentious. If the gifts are a little expensive, you wanted to give them their money back. Don't you remember that wealthy fan in America that sent you a sports car last time? You asked me to return the car to her and she burned the car right away, saying that if you didn't like it, then the car was worthless. What a waste of money."

Jackson was in a daze and he did not refute.

Some fans were still too young, so it was easy for them to get obsessed with someone and do something irrational. After all, they were his fans, so he indulged them most of the time. The female assistant sighed.

"Burning a car was nothing. I think the fans now are worse. Remember the woman Jackson hugged at the last concert? She was almost beaten to death by the fans today..."

Bastain tried to gesture her to stop talking, but Jackson already heard every single word she said.

He suddenly stood up straight and glanced at the assistant and his agent. "What did you say?"

The female assistant glanced at Bastain, who was desperately signalling her to stop, feeling a little confused.

"What did they do to Jennifer?" Jackson's voice turned cold.

"..." Bastain frowned and avoided Jackson's gaze. "It's getting late. Go to bed early and keep a distance from your fans..."

Before he could finish his words, he felt his chest tighten and Jackson pulled him up by the collar of his shirt till he was barely standing on the ground. The anger in Jackson's eyes was petrifying. He looked like a devil since his eyes were red from staying up all night at the concert.

"You knew about it?" He roared.

"Jackson..." The female assistant screamed. "This has nothing to do with us... It has nothing to do with Bastain too, really!"

Bastain was out of breath and said intermittently, "The fans decided to find out who she was... They found her workplace and that she had a flirty relationship with her boss."

However, it was Bastain who leaked the news that Jennifer and Jackson were in the same high school and Jennifer pursued him the whole time. He did not dare to tell Jackson this. Jackson loosened his grip and let Bastain go.

Bastain held his chest and coughed for a long time, unable to shake away the chilliness in his eyes.

"Jackson, it was the fans..." The female assistant wanted to say something, but when she met with Jackson cold gaze, she immediately shut up and choked on her words.

Out of the corner of Jackson's eyes, he saw the guitar in the black box. Out of anger, he grabbed the guitar and threw it on the coffee table. Everyone in the room grimaced as the guitar strings snapped. Both the glass coffee table and the guitar were damaged, leaving the shattered guitar and the broken glass on the ground.

A precious masterpiece was ruined just like that.

Bastain was so upset that the corners of his mouth were twitching. He could not help but say, "For a woman, you..."

Jackson glared at him and everyone went silent.

Bastain opened his mouth but didn't dare to say anything in the end.

"Cancel tomorrow's schedule," he said before entering the bedroom.

The female assistant had never seen Jackson so authoritative. She was stunned for a while before she asked, "Jackson, do you have a last-minute plan?"

"I'm going to find Jennifer."

A depressing voice came from the bedroom, full of guilt and uneasiness.

The female assistant looked at the agent next to her.

"Who on earth is this Jennifer? Wasn't she just some woman Jackson helped at the concert and sent to the medical tent? Why does it seem like Jackson had known her for a long time?" Bastain glared at her and said,

"Mind your mouth. You'd better pretend you did not see or hear anything today."

The assistant was stunned and hesitantly said.

"Then... What should we do? There will be another concert tomorrow night."

Bastain touched his chin and frowned, then came up with something.

"Don't worry, I have a plan."

If he couldn't even handle this well, then he wouldn't have been the top agent for a superstar like Jackson.

After the hotel's cleaner came over and cleaned the room, he knocked on the bedroom door. "Jackson... open the door. I have something to tell you."

There was no movement in the room as if Jackson had already fallen asleep.

Bastain frowned and his voice grew serious. "Desmond Whitney, if you want Jennifer to escape from your crazy fans, you'd better open the door for me." Desmond Whitney was Jackson's real name.

The Desmond Whitney who belonged to Jennifer ten years ago.