New Boss

It was scorching, even by the standards of this tropical hell. Ice cracked in a glass by the pool, reflecting flashes of sunlight, while the palm trees rustled lazily, as if mocking her situation.

Just six months ago, Lucas Moreno had half the continent under his thumb. His word was law, and his gaze—a death sentence. But to save his empire, he made a deal with someone better left unnamed. “Rebirth,” the strange man said. No one explained that it would be literal.

The body of a twenty-five-year-old woman—smooth, seductive—now belonged to him, or rather, her: Camila Rivas, as the new forged documents stated.

Only his most loyal men, Diego and Tony, were with him at the moment of transformation, both of them having witnessed it firsthand. The empire didn’t fall—but Camila could no longer take on the role of leader. No one would take her seriously.

The story went that Lucas died, Diego Alvarez took his place, and Tony Jimerez became his right hand. Camila had to accept the role of the new boss’s “girlfriend”—though in reality, it was the only way to stay in control.

— …if that prick in Panama tries to pull anything again—he better ask his mama first if she’ll let him wave goodbye with the other hand, got it? — Diego was on the phone, staring into the distance where the sun devoured the horizon. He stood by the pool, glass in one hand, phone in the other, his shoulder tense, voice sharp.

— No. We’re not waiting. If he doesn’t sign by tonight—tell them it’s war. That’s it.

He tossed the phone onto a lounger like it was a dirty rag, then reached for his glass. Camila squinted at him from under a bright scarf. The ice in her glass had long melted—along with her patience.

— Do you always speak so… eloquently when handling international contracts? — her voice was cold, almost lazy, but there was steel beneath it. — Or is this the boss’s new shtick?

He snorted, lifted his glass to his lips, took a sip, and only then, staring at a point just above her head, answered with feigned calm:

— Seems to me everything’s working just fine. Which means I’m doing it right. — Then he drained the rest of the glass, turned his back to her, and added, not bothering to hide the smirk in his voice — And really, baby, I don’t think my business is any of yours.

That smile of his—like he’d just stomped a dirty boot on the throne.

Camila froze for a second. Her slender fingers, nails painted crimson, clenched around the glass—crystal nearly cracked under the pressure.

— Baby?.. — she repeated, rising from the lounger, barely keeping her irritation in check. The sea-colored dress stretched tight over her hips, fabric gliding over her skin, revealing her legs—she still hadn’t gotten used to that feeling of exposure, and the soft weight of her breasts shifting with every sudden move.

She stepped closer—almost chest to chest—but had to rise slightly on her toes to reach his ear. That alone was humiliating: Lucas used to look down on Diego—now it was the other way around. And it gnawed at her.

But she forced a smirk and whispered, lips nearly brushing his neck:

— Somebody seems to have forgotten who the real boss is around here.

Diego turned toward her, his bicep brushing against her soft tits, and smirked when he saw her flinch from the casual contact. She barely stopped herself from stepping back, but kept a straight face, aiming to show not irritation, but rage.

— Careful, baby — he drawled with mock concern, eyes dropping to her chest so openly it made Camila’s insides twist. Her fists clenched on instinct, nails digging into soft skin, but she only smiled faintly and stepped to the side, as if giving herself a few seconds to collect.

— You’re acting way too confident, Diego, — her voice was quieter now, slower, but every word rang with steel. — You know, I always knew there’d be someone itching to try on the crown. That’s why... I planned ahead.

She tilted her head, brushing back the hair that stuck to her temple in the heavy, humid air, then pulled out a tiny flash drive. In the sunlight, it glinted like a snake’s fang.

— Everything it takes to sink any one of you is right here, — she whispered. — And if anyone decides that a new skirt is a reason to forget who’s really holding the reins... they’ll have a lot of explaining to do. To a lot of people.

Silence settled over the pool, broken only by the distant hum of insects. Diego smirked, like he’d been waiting for that move.

— Clever... — he drawled, stepping closer. Camila had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. — But too late, baby.

Tony stepped out from behind her. The cheap cologne hit her nose even before she turned. In his hand gleamed an identical flash drive.

— Thought you were the only smart one? — his voice crawled across her skin like sticky cobwebs. — We’ve known about your “Plan B” for a while now, Lucas... — He paused on the name, his eyes dragging over her body from the bottom up before adding — Though what Lucas? Just some whore who thought she could control two men.

Camila spun around, but Tony was too close. His hand clamped around her wrist like shackles, yanking the flash drive away. The metal burned her palm, but she didn’t make a sound.

— Now — Diego slowly ran a finger across her bare shoulder, savoring the moment — you’ve got only one choice.

He leaned in so close she felt his hot breath on her neck.

— You’re no longer a partner, Cami. — His voice was calm, almost gentle. — Your games are over. Your power is over. You’re just a pretty doll who thought she was playing in the big leagues for too long.

He smirked and turned to Tony, who was lazily twirling the flash drive between his fingers.

— Tony and I decided — you don’t belong at the table. You wanna stay here? You wanna live in this palace, wear your fancy clothes and sip cocktails by the pool? Be a hot piece of ass — Diego turned back to her, and there was no respect left in his eyes. No fear. Just raw contempt, especially after the words “hot piece of ass.” — Then act like one.

He paused, dragging out the moment before saying:

— Start with something simple. Show us you know your new place. Get on all fours and crawl to your “boyfriend.” Then do what that new little mouth of yours was made for.

Camila froze in place. Every part of her body screamed from humiliation, from rage. Just yesterday, she was the shadow ruler of an empire. And now — they were putting her on display like a cheap whore, offering her a chance to crush her own pride just to stay close.

Tony clicked his tongue mockingly:

— Right here. Right now. With me watching. Or get the fuck out, bitch.

Camila stared at them, and for the first time in months, this new body didn’t feel like just a tight cage — it felt like a real prison. She could do absolutely nothing. The light dress clung to her sweaty skin, the weight of her tits swayed with every shaky breath, a sickening reminder of how powerless she now looked in their eyes.

— Make your choice, — Diego said, sipping from his glass. — Either you become what you’re supposed to be... or you crawl the fuck out of here. Out there, beyond those gates, the world’ll eat you alive. And believe me, it won’t take much for us to make sure that world out there feels like hell. But you already know that, don’t you?