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The Gentleman

After Rosalie Millar has a one-night stand with a handsome stranger, she vows to never do it again. The trouble is…she can’t get him out of her mind! As it turns out, the stranger isn’t much of a stranger at all—he’s Daniel Rossi, owner of the publishing company she just started working for! At first, Rose wonders if he even remembers their heated encounter—he doesn’t seem to recognize her at all. But when Rose pens an erotic story based on their night together and submits it to a writing contest…her manuscript ends up on Mr. Rossi’s desk.

Age Rating: 18+


The Gentleman by lailaauthor is now available to read on the Galatea app! Read the first two chapters below, or download Galatea for the full experience.



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After Rosalie Millar has a one-night stand with a handsome stranger, she vows to never do it again. The trouble is…she can’t get him out of her mind! As it turns out, the stranger isn’t much of a stranger at all—he’s Daniel Rossi, owner of the publishing company she just started working for! At first, Rose wonders if he even remembers their heated encounter—he doesn’t seem to recognize her at all. But when Rose pens an erotic story based on their night together and submits it to a writing contest…her manuscript ends up on Mr. Rossi’s desk.

Age Rating: 18+

Original Author: lailaauthor


I pinched at my cheeks, smoothing my hair behind my ears. The lift doors parted with a soft chime just as I swiveled on my feet, the familiar sight of his penthouse warming my face.

“Took you long enough.”

Daniel tore my clothes off as soon as I crossed the front door of his apartment, my dress landing in a mess around my feet. He stared at me hungrily, pouncing like a starved predator.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

Smoothing heated bites along the curve of my neck, he lapped over the addictive sting with his tongue, his arms wrapped tightly around my waist.

I impatiently worked through the buttons of his shirt, throwing it to the side blindly. He hoisted me up, my legs wrapping around his waist as he turned through the corridors, dropping me onto a mattress.

He locked my hands above my head, his every touch lighting my core ablaze. Placing open-mouthed kisses down my body, he paused at my stomach, blowing cool air over my heated skin.

His eyes clashed with mine before his head disappeared between my legs, caressing the inside of my thighs with the tip of his nose.

“Rose.” My name rolled off his tongue like poetry, his light accent making warmth pool in my core.

It was a warning because I should have prepared for what he did next. I let out a moan, my head lolling back as he skillfully worked at my nub, tracing sinfully slow circles around it.

“Daniel, please.” I writhed under his torture, my orgasm brimming on the edge of explosion. My head turned to the side, my eyes pressed shut beneath the pressure building in my core.

“Look at me.” He tilted my chin up with a finger, drawing lazy circles across my bottom lip. Dipping his thumb into my mouth, he watched as I sucked on his digit, a low growl escaping his lips.

Suddenly he clamped down onto my clit, his fingers working in and out of me at a steady pace.

I laced my finger through his jet black hair, the midnight shade glossy beneath the moonlight shining through the tall windows.

My hips buckled under his tongue, my knees shaking as I screamed out in pleasure.

He held my hips down firmly, continuing his assault, rapidly sending me over the edge again and again. His fingers teased at my nipples, lightly pinching the sensitive flesh.

“Oh—” I came down from the constant waves of pleasure, his eyes ablaze with lust.

The unmistakable sound of a zip sounded; I watched in awe as he tore the condom wrapper open with his teeth, sheathing his length.

Pushing my knees up, he spread me open, nudging at my entrance. My lips dropped open at his size in a gasp, earning a low chuckle from him. Thick enough for a sweet burn, with a sexy curve.

He nipped my ear lobe slightly before whispering, “I can’t do slow today, love.”

I shivered at his endearment, my eyes clashing against his. “That’s fine by me.”

Before I’d had a chance to breathe, he plunged into me, my fingers clawing into his naked back. I whimpered slightly, his lips placing small kisses over my cheek.

I rocked my hips against him, the curve of his cock hitting at a certain spot. Taking my eagerness as an approval, he began to thrust in and out, his pace building up.

He pushed my knees back further, allowing for a deeper angle. I was a mess, his thumb working at my clit again.

“You feel amazing.” His lips crashed into mine in a heated storm, the minty taste of him bordering addictive.

He rolled my nipples between his fingers, pinching and drawing moans out of me. Grabbing one in his mouth, he lightly sucked on the sensitive flesh, flicking the bud with his tongue.

His thrusts became urgent as I felt myself begin to unravel again, my waves building. He bit lightly into my shoulder, a series of low groans resounding as he came violently, sending me over the edge.

He dropped down next to me, pulling me against his chest. I cushioned myself into him, my tired limbs begging for sleep.

“You really are something, aren’t you?” He smoothed slow circles into my shoulder.

If we were a couple, this would have been called cute. Or sweet. Perhaps passionate.

But we weren’t.

He was my boss, and I was his employee.

Not that he knew of it.

I’m Rose Millar, and this is a take on how I ended up in my boss’s bed.

But in the grand scheme of things, this fact is minuscule—and what really matters is that my manuscript ends up on his desk.

The manuscript that features an erotica.

About him.


The early morning sunlight bit at my tired eyelids, spreading a golden glow over the messy room. Clothes were strewn around in a blend of colors, a groan leaving me as I spotted my torn dress.

The bed sat cold next to me, my face heating under the idea of an awkward conversation.

I raced through the events of the previous night, my mind closing in on one detail. Daniel.

That’s a start. At least I know his name.

I rolled out of the duvet, hissing at the pain in between my legs. The sound of running water met my ears, my shoulders relaxing as I blew out a breath of relief.

I searched frantically to find something to cover myself with, my eyes landing on a large, plain black T-shirt.

Hesitating for a second, I threw the fabric over my naked skin, eyeing the bathroom wearily. Guilt settled in my gut as I paced back and forth with anxiety.

I can’t just take his T-shirt.

Taking a quick mental note never to have a one-night-stand again, I began the treasure hunt of finding my things. Finding a shoe at the front door, and another under the bed, I threw them onto my aching feet.

Panic rushed through my veins as the noise of the streaming water hushed. Blowing out a slow breath, I spotted a notepad by the bedside table, a pen resting conveniently on top.

I sat down to write him a note, to tell him that I’d return his T-shirt, only to find a message already scrawled over the page in neat handwriting.

Have breakfast with me.

My breath hitched, my cheeks blazing in a furious shade of red as I remembered the sinful things he had whispered into my ear while slamming into me.

Silently cursing at myself for not knowing what to do, I did the only thing I could think of.

I bolted.

Leaving the notepad, I ran out of the room, pacing toward the front door just as the bathroom door clicked open.

Not daring to look back, I shut the door behind me, clambering through the house and down the stairs.


The warm water streamed down my bare skin, caressing my aching limbs. My roaming fingers found my core, my thoughts escaping to last night as I sighed out in relief.

I’d never had sex like that before; rough and primal, hot skin against skin.

Quickly toweling off, I wiped the foggy mirror clean of the steam, my skin glowing under a new luster. My stomach rumbled loudly, begging for some breakfast.

Grabbing a mug of coffee, I limped into the living room, silently cursing the man from the night before all the way.

I nestled into the sofa, prying my laptop open to my manuscript. A scene that I had been waiting to write lit up the screen – I’d been saving it for last. Something steamy and sensual.

My thoughts escaped to the night before, to his heady scent and dark gaze.

I dug my fingers into a cushion, remembering the way my orgasms had shaken through me and how his fingers had felt caressing my skin.

With the thoughts running through my mind, I began to type, painting the night with my prose.

There was no question – it was amazing sex. Guilt wrenched through me as I imagined his shock at an empty bed.

And his missing T-shirt.

I felt heat crawl over my skin, warmth pooling in my core with every word. Jolting up from the sudden ring, I cleared my throat, answering my phone.


“Hi, Rosalie, how are you doing?” I held back a groan at her overly chirpy voice, easily recognizing the malice in her tone.

No matter how many times I’d asked the manager to call me Rose, she’d stuck to Rosalie like super glue.

“I’m good, thanks. How are yo—”

“Okay amazing, so you’ll be able to come into the office today.” She said it like a statement, cutting my question in half.

“Pardon? But I—”

“I know you normally come in once a week, but the new boss wants to meet each employee personally.”

I struggled to understand her: the sentences shot out at a hundred miles per second.

“That’s nice of him-”

She laughed coldly, “He’s far from nice—he’s making staff cuts on the first day, so do yourself a favor and bring your British ass here.”

I ignored her remark, my face paling, “He’s firing people?”

“Yes and—”

Now it was my turn to butt in, “I’ll be there as soon as I can!”


Read the full uncensored books on the Galatea iOS app!



I pushed the doors of the tall glass building open, its large windows glinting beneath the midday sunlight. My core was still aching from a couple of hours ago, my limp obvious in my steps.

That guy was a beast.

With a white scarf wrapped around my neck to hide the hickeys, I forced my shoulders back, my feet tapping impatiently as I waited for the lift.

The metal opening parted with a soft chime, revealing a distressed crowd.

I stepped in once they had left, my ears perking up at their outcries:

“How can he just fire us? We’ve been here for seven years!”

I winced at her screeches, the red splotches around her eyes shadowing her tears. The others mumbled in agreement, their dejected steps making my heart batter in my ribs.

The doors closed just as my breath began to hitch, my nerves hammering wildly.

I bit my lip, my fist tightening around the bag hanging from my shoulder, the weight of my manuscripts suddenly ten times heavier.

Dragging myself onto the floor, I glanced around, the bright luster of the lights hanging from the ceiling hovering over the burdened expressions of the staff.

The long, sleek headroom was filled with people rushing over the marbled tiles, pacing back and forth between the rooms curtaining the corridors.

I limped to the cluster of people arranged in a queue outside a door, the name Daniel Rossi embellished into the wood in a golden scrawl.

The name rattled in my head, creating a numbing cacophony with my worried thoughts. I shoved the odd familiarity into the depths of my mind, clenching and unclenching my palms.

Staying rooted to my spot, I swallowed nervously as I waited for my name to be called. People left the office, some in tears, others red with fury.

My stomach dropped as I pressed my eyes shut, muttering calming words under my breath.

I let out a shaky sigh, my feet dancing nervously among each other, my fingers crossed in a messy entanglement.

“Rosalie! Finally, you’re here!” I rolled my eyes, painting a smile over my anxiety as the manager closed in on me.

“Well don’t just look at me! Go inside.” My thoughts blurred beneath my stress, my voice freezing in my throat.

She wrapped a tight hold around my arm, nudging me toward the room with a pointed glare. I glared at her, reluctantly trudging to the oak door.

Balling my fist up, I knocked on the wood, my eyes prying through the small window ingrained into the door.

My knees almost gave way as I pressed my body back against the wall after catching a glimpse of the figure inside, my hand clamped over my mouth.

“Come in.” I gasped at the deep voice, the voice that had whispered heated things into my ears mere hours ago.

I quickly wrapped my scarf around the bottom half of my face, tying the fabric into a knot over my hair.

My eyes widened, a deep shade of crimson rushing over my face as my mind traveled down to the sting in between my legs, the man that caused it being a door away from me.

I frantically looked between the door and the manager standing with her hands on her hips, searching desperately for a way out.

Giving up, I turned back toward the office. I stepped into the tense atmosphere weighing over the place, letting the door close behind me with a faint click.

The large room seemed to mock me, the wide windows glistening beneath the clear blue skies. A neat mahogany desk sat proudly in the middle, documents arranged around the perimeter neatly.

He stood with his back to me, a tailored blazer smoothed over his ripped back, his hands clenched around the shelves behind his desk.

“Miss Millar, I believe?” He turned, his eyes narrowing at my makeshift mask.

I cleared my throat, “I um, have an infection.” My voice softened under the layers of the milky cloth, trailing out in an unrecognizable tone.

He frowned, nodding slowly, “Right. Infection.” His gaze pierced through me, his eyes traveling over my face in a light caress.

Please don’t recognize me, please don’t recognize me.

Keeping his sight fixated on mine, he motioned to the dark chairs sitting idly by the table, “Take a seat.”

I lowered myself into the cold leather, my shoulders tensing up under his scrutiny.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re an author that specializes in romance,” His eyes darkened, “Erotic romance.”

“Yes,” I paused to swallow, “I’ve been working here for the past two years.”

He cocked his head to the side, the intensity of his features making me look away.

“What do you want, Rose?” His voice turned sultry and low, his eyes crinkling at the edges like he was keeping a smile at bay.

Shit, shit, shit.

I pressed my mouth shut, my cheeks heating up.

“I mean, that’s what one of your books are called, ‘What You Want’. Right?” I blinked and his amused expression was gone, a businessman sitting in the place of the man who had fucked me senseless.

My shoulders dropped in relief, “Yes. Yes, I do have a book by that name.”

He sauntered around the desk, resting beside me. I snapped my gaze away from him, the scent of his heady cologne making my knees weak.

“As you know, I’ve had to make a couple of cuts from the staff.”

I almost scoffed.

A couple? More like hundreds.

“But I think a renowned author, such as yourself, should be offered a permanent position, rather than the hours you have been doing up until now.”

His words reverberated against the walls, his presence filling and dominating the space.

I looked up to see him already looking at me, the depths of his eyes fastened against mine, almost like he was searching.

“I appreciate the offer, Mr. Rossi, but I’m not sure I’d be able to accommodate the hours,” I spoke breathily, struggling to catch the reins of the heat running over my skin.

He cocked his head, “Well then I’m afraid, the company will be unable to accommodate you, Miss Millar.” He threw my words back at me, an unspoken challenge racing between us.

Rounding the table back to his seat, he left an uncomfortable coldness in his absence, the cool air embracing me.

“Unless, of course, you’d like to take some time to consider the offer.”

I gnawed at my lips, looking down at my lap before shooting him a glare, “Actually, I think I’ll take you up on that offer now.”

I’d worked hard to get where I was today, and I wouldn’t give way just because I’d unknowingly fucked my new boss.

Actually, when you put it like that—

Silently, he pushed the contract forward with a slight grin, the sight sending warmth rushing to my core.

As I read over the complicated sentences, he held a pen forward, my fingers grazing up against his for a split second. Signing at the bottom of the paper, I rose out of my seat.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Rossi.” I turned, not awaiting his response.

“You too, Rose.” My steps froze at his husky tone, my breath hitching in my throat.

Refusing to turn back, I escaped his lair, my limbs trembling with adrenaline.


Read the full uncensored books on the Galatea iOS app!


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