Like a Boss

Chapter 1

“ Bay, would you please stop fidgeting?”

“I can’t help it,” I gripe, shuffling in my seat and attempting to sit tall. “It’s your fault for making me wear this damn torture device. How the hell am I supposed to breathe in this thing?”

“You’re not.” My best friend, Hannah Glenn, chuckles. “Besides, you look beautiful.” She playfully tugs at a loose brunette curl that has slipped free from my jeweled hairclip.

“I most certainly will not look beautiful when I pass out from lack of oxygen.” I rearrange my position, hoping the movement will liberate my lungs, but it only makes me wheeze like a ninety-year-old, emphysemic old man.

The taxi driver looks at me through the rearview mirror, attempting to hide his smile—good to know I look as ridiculous as I feel.

“This was a bad idea. Please remind me why I’m not running back to the safety of your apartment.”

“Because,” Hannah states, peering into her compact as she adjusts her side chignon. “You need a night out. Not to mention, you need a night out of your sweatpants. It’s been three months, Baylee.” Snapping her compact shut, she holds up three fingers to emphasize her point. “I hate to sound like a broken record, but you need to move on. And by move on, I mean you need to have wild, hot sex with a random stranger,” she concludes, her mouth filter totally nonexistent, just like always.

“You know I’m not into one-night stands, Han,” I affirm with conviction.

“Well, you should be. You’re young, hot, and single. Go out there and grab a tiger by the balls.”

“No, thank you. I’m steering clear of all tigers… and their balls.” I know she’s trying to help, but she’s not.

Sighing, I gaze out the window, bracing my forehead against the cool glass. I would rather get lost in the bright city lights than have to deal with the mess that is my life.

Three months ago, the love of my life broke my heart into a million teeny tiny pieces. I never believed in the cheesy cliché until it actually happened to me. Goes without saying, it destroyed my world.

Scott was my high school sweetheart, and up until three months ago, I believed he was my happily ever after. Turns out Scott’s happily ever after differed from mine dramatically, as his HEA was between the legs of my ex-boss—the soulless succubus.

Sadly for me, I walked in on them in a very compromising position at a work function. At first, I wanted to believe he was just helping her find her shoes. But unless her shoes were wedged in her vagina, then what I saw was indeed the disgusting truth.

I packed up my belongings and left our apartment because no matter how much I loved him, I loved myself more. There was no way I was going to waste my future on someone who didn’t want me. And I most certainly wasn’t going to waste my future on someone who had no qualms screwing my boss.

The first few days, anger fueled my every thought.

“I was better off.”

“I didn’t need him.”

“A leopard doesn’t change its spots,” and so on.

All these affirmations were my driving force to survive. However, when one week passed, and I missed him more than life itself, I realized that surviving this wasn’t going to be as easy as I thought.

Hannah, however, was my voice of reason, reminding me in my moments of weakness that Scott was a lying, cheating asshole. She also reminded me of the fact that Scott had ruined everything I’d worked so hard for. Not only had he ruined my life, but he had also ruined my career, because after seeing my boss’s lady parts, there was no way I could stomach looking at her in the same way ever again.

I really admired Audrey Denis. She was a thirty-five-year-old, smart, successful businesswoman who was attractive, in good shape and reeked of success—success she had worked hard for. She was someone I looked up to—someone I wanted to become. She was married but kept her private life just that. Too bad her private life included screwing my boyfriend.

So I am now not only homeless but jobless, as well. And that’s what has me tugging on the tight bodice of my blue silk gown.

Hannah works at Fox Technologies, and luck was finally on my side when the boss of all bosses, Mr. Dylan Fox, was in the market for a new personal assistant. I’m a NYU business graduate, but we all have to start somewhere. And besides, I was hoping Mr. Fox would see my potential and I could work my way up the corporate ladder.

So I applied online, not expecting anything, but was pleasantly surprised when I got a call back two days later informing me that I was hired. I was ecstatic, hopeful my bad luck had finally changed, but Hannah then confessed she had left out the minor detail that my boss was a renowned asshole. To date, he’s had fifteen personal assistants, all of which have quit, unable to deal with his controlling, overbearing ways.

This fact indeed killed my high, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I was sick of using Hannah’s couch as my bed, and my savings was slowly dwindling to nothing but pennies. I had to put on my big girl panties and suck it up because I was desperate to get my life back on track.

“So, who’s going to be here?” I ask, finally snapping out of my funk and turning to look at my best friend.

“Everyone will be,” she replies with a smile.

“Is everyone including my boss?”

Hannah nods, a small frown tugging at her lips. “I do find it strange he hired you without even meeting you. I mean, he is a control freak and all.”

“Maybe my resume just blew him out of the water?” I playfully suggest as a plausible explanation.

“Maybe,” she agrees but doesn’t look convinced. She drops it however. “I thought this was a perfect opportunity for you to meet everyone you’re going to be working with. And besides, tonight is a charity event, so everyone will be feeling… charitable.”

“You know what, Han? Save the pep talks.”

She smirks and claps excitedly. “I can’t wait until we work together. It’s only been our dream since we were ten years old.”

I nod because she’s absolutely right. But I have to get through tonight first before I even contemplate starting my new job on Monday.

When the cab pulls up a few feet away from the venue, we slide out gradually, as our body-hugging dresses prevent much movement. While Hannah pays the driver, I look up at the vast, impressive Hotel Du Luc and whistle.

My cheeks are kissed by the crisp night breeze the moment we hit the sidewalk. Hotel Du Luc is classically aged and the bright lights outside highlight the undeniable sophistication inside. I’ve never seen anything so fancy, but I guess it’s a sight I’ll have to become accustomed to seeing as my boss demands nothing but the best.

We walk up the stairs, ready for whatever the evening decides to throw our way. The moment we enter the regal foyer, a sharply dressed middle-aged man with eagle eyes catches Hannah by the arm.

“You look ravishing, Hannah. Who’s your friend?”

Hannah removes her arm from his grip. “My friend is someone who’s been warned to stay away from you, Handsy Hugo.”

My mouth hinges open at her blunt reply, but Handsy Hugo grins, appearing to be accustomed to Hannah’s sass. “Save me a dance.”

“Not a chance in hell,” she replies over her shoulder, dragging me into the majestic ballroom.

I’m unable to appreciate the beauty around me because I’m too shocked by Hannah’s blatant insolence. “ Who was that?” I hook my thumb over my shoulder while Hannah shivers in disgust.

“That was the office pervert, that’s who.”

I screw up my nose. “Oh, duly noted. I will make sure to stay away from him.”

Hannah grins her troublesome, dimpled smile. “Or, on second thought, maybe Handsy Hugo is exactly what you need.”

I choose to ignore her, as I know she’ll make it happen if I give it half a thought. A waiter zips past, and I steal a glass of champagne off the silver tray.

“Not listening, Hannah.”

Before she has time to rebuke, a pretty girl of similar age to us runs over. “Han! Thank God you’re here. I was about to fall asleep in the canapes. Who’s this?” she asks, gesturing my way.

“Hey, Bonnie. This is Baylee Young.”

Her jaw hits the ground. “Oh, you poor thing.” She shakes her head sympathetically, but she soon recovers when she senses my confusion.

I turn to look at Hannah, wondering if she’s shared my sob story with the entire office. The random girl sees my annoyance and quickly clarifies. “You’re Mr. Fox’s new personal assistant, right?”

Hannah smiles sweetly at me while I shake my head at her jab. “Yes, I am. So, why poor me?” I ask, downing my champagne in one big gulp.

Bonnie looks at Hannah, who shrugs. “She already knows what a pain in the ass he is.”

Bonnie breathes out a sigh of relief, appearing thankful she wasn’t the one who spilled the beans. “Pain in the ass is giving him a compliment. He’s lucky he’s so ridiculously hot because what he’s lacking in the personality department, he sure makes up for look-wise.” She fans herself while Hannah nods in agreement.

I gulp. Who the hell am I working for?

I steal Hannah’s champagne and toss it down quickly.

Bonnie sees my anxiety and quickly amends. “I guess he’s not that bad.”

“No, he’s worse,” Hannah adds, chuckling when I stop the waiter for another glass of champagne. “Lighten up, Bay. At least you’ve got some eye candy to look at, no matter how bitter that candy may be. Bonnie and I are stuck looking at Handsy Hugo all day.”

Both girls shudder while I laugh. Although, I don’t know how long I’ll be laughing as my boss sounds like the devil reincarnate.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the restroom,” I say, as three glasses of champagne in the span of two minutes is my limit.

I go in search of the bathrooms but soon become disoriented because this place is like a damn maze, and these pumps are definitely not making my journey any easier. I make my way up the plush carpeted steps, but I don’t have time to admire my superb surroundings as my bladder is about to burst. I sing in relief when I see the bathrooms are a few feet ahead.

Very ungracefully, I half run, half waddle, not caring I resemble a deranged duck because the only thing I care about is making it to the restrooms in time.

However, when I’m only mere steps away, my monster stilettos catch on the long hem of my gown and I clumsily trip over my own feet. I yelp, “Sweet baby Jesus!” and bump straight into a wall… of muscle.

Lifting my eyes up and… up, I see my muscled wall is attached to the hottest man… ever. And that hot man is smirking at me, his fingers searing my skin as he caresses my bicep with poise. My body goes lax, my mouth gapes open on its own accord, and my eyes go to town on the tall, dark, and handsome in front of me.

His eyes are incredibly bright, appearing a green-blue, licked with a curving swirl of violet. Their vibrancy complements his slightly down-turned lips, which gives him a full, sexy pout. His strong jawline is coated in a dark scruff, a dark scruff that matches his thick, wild tresses, styled messily atop his gorgeous head.

It’s impossible that a man this hot actually exists. But as I rake my gaze down his hardened, chiseled physique, I know that it’s possible, very possible.

Even underneath the monkey suit, I can see that he’s the owner of a well-oiled machine, a machine which has me forgetting my own name. And obviously my manners, because when he clears his throat, I realize I’m staring at his groin.

“You’re welcome,” I blurt out. What the actual hell? That is so not what I intended to say.

But my stranger chuckles, a deep, gruff laugh, and goose bumps instantly bathe my skin.

“I mean, thank you,” I correct a second later, feeling my cheeks rival the pinkness of his devious mouth. “I tripped over my shoes because I was busting to pee.” Again, what the actual hell?

I need to shut up, but my need to fill the silence is greater and I continue rambling like a crazy person.

“Thank you for coming to my rescue. I can only imagine what compromising position I would be in if not for your skilled… hands.” I cringe while my stranger smirks, a dimple hugging his whiskered cheek.

Why isn’t he talking? He needs to talk, so I shut the hell up.

But when he strokes over my bicep once again, talking is the last thing on my mind.

He leans in close, his cologne encasing me in a prison of perfumed heaven. Does heaven have a smell? Well, it does now.

“After you’re done…” he whispers, his voice deep, rough, and raw. “How about you come up to my room, and I’ll show you how skillful my hands can really be.”

I actually choke on my saliva and subtly cough so I can breathe. Is this man asking me what I think he’s asking me? I mean, maybe he’s a massage therapist, and he wants to knead the knots from my shoulders because God knows, the stress from the past three months has me wearing my shoulders for earrings.

However, when he leans in even closer and his lips tickle my ear, I know the only massaging he’ll be doing is to my libido. “Just in case we’re unclear… that was an invitation to fuck you senseless.”

Before I have time to reply, he pulls away, appearing calm and composed, while I resist the urge to not vomit all over his expensive Italian loafers.

“Room fifteen thirty-five. See you soon,” he confidently says before sauntering off with a self-assured swagger.

I stand frozen to the spot, my need to pee long gone because I have just been hit on by the world’s hottest man, whose arrogance and self-assurance was a surprisingly heady combination. This has never happened to me before. I have always been with Scott. And when I say been , I mean that physically, as well as emotionally.

But just thinking about what that dirty son of a bitch did to me has me springing into action, ready to make good on Hannah’s suggestion and grab a tiger by the balls. The thought of being naked and in his presence, however, has me yelping and running into the bathroom.

Once I’m done in the stall, I wash my hands and stare into the mirror above the sink. I look flustered, even more so than usual because my usual rosy cheeks rival a tomato. Dousing my neck with some water, I take three calming breaths.

Any sane woman would forget she just encountered this arrogant asshole and go back to the party. But I never said I was sane. And going back downstairs has every fiber in my body protesting loudly.

Fanning my cheeks, I hope it’ll also douse the fire in my pants, but all it does has me remembering those mesmerizing eyes which could promise the world. The old Baylee would walk away because she would never do something so… spontaneous. But that Baylee got treated like a doormat by her supposed “soulmate.”

With that as my incentive, I march out of the bathroom, making a beeline for the elevator. The doors part open, and I enter, refusing to back down.

“You are not a coward,” I chant to myself for the sixth time, hoping the avowal will magically give me the confidence I so need.

It doesn’t because I have ridden in the elevator to the fifteenth floor three times, and each time, I’ve ridden it back down to the lobby, unable to take that first step because I know I’ll have to take another and then another after that.

I’ve never been the one-night stand kind of girl, and even though I’ve been in a relationship for the majority of my adult years, I still think that fact would stand, even if I hadn’t been.

But it’s not every day a girl like me gets propositioned on her way to the bathroom by a man who could have any woman he wanted.

I’ve always considered myself cute rather than beautiful. I’ve always been the pretty brunette with too many freckles on her nose, while Hannah was the leggy blonde beauty everyone wanted to screw. And I’m okay with that. Scott loved me for who I was. Well, I thought he did because I now know that Scott was a fucking liar.

Anger replaces my heartache, and before I know it, I’m in the elevator once again, riding it up to the fifteenth floor and storming down the hallway. “You are not a coward,” I repeat for the final time before knocking on the door of room 1535.

Who was I kidding? I am such a coward. I was insane to think I could actually go through with this because the pounding of my heart and the shortness of breath reveals I’m moments away from having a heart attack.

But it’s too late. Just as my common sense kicks in, the door opens, and before me stands my handsome stranger.

I gulp.

He smirks.

I gulp once again.

“Hello again.” His voice is as smooth as velvet, his composure untroubled and calm as he leans against the doorjamb.

I, on the other hand, can feel the perspiration gathering on my brow.

This was a mistake, but as he steps aside, indicating I’m to enter, my feet act before my brain can protest and I’m trapped in the lion’s, or should I say, tiger’s den. I take a quick look around and can’t deny the room is really beautiful and lavish. I have no doubt that money isn’t an issue for my tiger.

When I hear the door close, I nervously spin around to see my stranger braced up against the wood grain, watching me with those intense eyes. Under his heated gaze, I feel naked and utterly exposed. I quickly check to ensure there are no wardrobe malfunctions.

When I’m in the clear, I meet his stare once again but am shocked to see a small grin tug at his full lips. I don’t know why it shocks me, but my tiger appears like someone who doesn’t let his guard down often.

“Would you like a drink?” he asks, pushing off the door, walking brashly toward me.

I slowly back away, only stopping when my calves hit the edge of a glass coffee table. “Um, sure. Thanks.”

He nods, that damn cocky smile still plastered to his glorious face as he makes his way over to the refrigerator.

I watch with interest as he reaches for two wine glasses, pouring us a splash of red. I wish I knew what he was thinking because at the moment, he’s keeping his cards close to his chest. Oh, and what a chest it is.

I thought I was here to be ‘fucked senseless,’ but maybe he was joking. Maybe he’s actually a creepy pervert who lured me up here with the promise of sex, but instead, he’s going to cut me up into itty bitty pieces and mail my remains to my mom and dad.

“I shouldn’t be here,” I confess, hating how my rationality decides to kick in now , because now is too late.

“Why not?” he coolly questions, both wineglasses in hand as he makes his way toward me. I haven’t moved an inch.

“Because, I, er…” I fumble over my words because I don’t even know what to say. Are you a serial killer, seems a little wrong.

“Because why?” he presses, handing me my wine.

I reach for the glass, ensuring our fingers don’t touch. “Because I don’t usually do this. Like ever. This isn’t me.” When he remains quiet, studying me closely, I add, “I’m sorry if I misled you downstairs.”

He cocks his head to the side, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. He doesn’t say anything, however, he simply watches me like prey.

His intensity would usually scare or intimate me, but coming from him, in a weird, unexplained way, it turns me on. I’ve never had a man look at me this way, and I dare say after tonight, I’ll never experience it thereafter.

“You didn’t mislead me. I know what your body wants… even if you don’t.” He finally speaks, although I think I preferred him mute.

I can’t deny he’s right. I can feel an unexpected dampness pooling in my underwear, a feeling I haven’t experienced in a very long time. But can I really do this? Can I have a one-night stand with a complete and utter stranger who is extremely cocky and seems like a self-assured asshole?

With his gaze still firmly affixed to me, he runs a hand through his dark brown hair, the longer layers on top sliding through his fingers effortlessly. I dig my fingernails into my palm to stop myself from reaching out and touching that tousled mess myself. Even though he is perfectly refined and reeks of class, his bed hair and three-day growth show me otherwise. Underneath this perfect getup, I sense a bad boy just waiting to emerge when the time and situation is just right.

Like right now.

He slowly loosens the black tie from around his thick neck, his eyes never wavering from mine when he unknots it. He unfastens the top button of his crisp white shirt, it pops open, adding to his rebellious look.

Wrapping the tie around his palm, he pulls the length, the action making me go weak at the knees. I’ve never been bound before but watching the way his long fingers tug at the material has me quickly wondering what it would feel like.

“Like what you see?” He laughs, the sound slightly mocking, mixed with a hint of curiosity.

His confidence suddenly ticks me off, and my stubbornness takes control. “I’ve seen better.”

He has the nerve to laugh again and this time, the sound is filled with nothing but smugness. “Have you now?”

I nod, folding my arms over my chest to hide my mounting breaths.

“Once again, Bluebird, your body tells me otherwise.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask, deciding to ignore the fact he just called me Bluebird.

“Well,” he replies, taking another step toward me, while I step around the coffee table and take two back. “I dare say you’re thinking about what I said to you downstairs. I think right now, right this second…” He pauses and breathes in evenly. “I think you’re fantasizing about all the wicked and utterly despicable things I want to do to you.”

Internally, I’ve just combusted, but I’ll be damned if I let it show. “Well, I hate to rain on your ego parade, but you’re wrong.”

“No, I’m not,” he counters with a self-righteous smile.

“Ah, yes, you are. It’s my body; I think I know what it’s capable of.”

My dark stranger shakes his head, his eyes sizzling with challenge. “You have no idea what that hot body is capable of.”

“You’re an arrogant asshole,” I bite back, hating how he knows me and my body so well.

He shrugs his massive shoulders, appearing undisturbed by my abuse. “I’ve been called worse. You know I’m right,” he contests, cocking a dark brow.