Never Bed the Boss (Filthy Rich & Bossy)

1. Lilah

1

LILAH

I stumble into the lobby of the Ridgeway Hotel feeling more like a flea-bitten stray dog than a human, and with all eyes locked on me, I must look the part too. I keep my head down, trying my best to ignore the gazes searing my skin and make my way to the bar.

Elite, beautiful, and filthy rich—I get it. I’m everything these people aren’t. I’m as much a curiosity to them as they are to me.

After bombing my most recent interview and then receiving a phone call from a creditor and my landlord in quick succession, I wanted a taste of how the other side lived. And as I look around—everything gold, glass, and glistening—it’s like nothing I ever imagined. It smells like a different world.

“Can I help you?” the woman behind the bar asks in a tone that’s more accusatory than friendly.

“Something sweet,” I answer, eyeing her flawless appearance as I wonder if the hotel has some sort of arrangement with modeling agencies. She’s the type of gorgeous that turns heads and raises others.

She retreats without a response, and I’m counting down the seconds until I’m tossed out of here because I’m pretty sure these people think poverty is contagious.

I’m usually bubbly. A little ray of sunshine that can brighten even the darkest moods, but on a day like today, I’m finding it difficult. And in a place like this? I’m so far out of my comfort zone that I’m finding it hard to remember who I am.

I’ve passed the Ridgeway Hotel more times than I can count, but I never had the nerve to step inside. Hell, I wouldn’t allow myself to look for more than a few seconds out of fear of being branded a thief for stealing glances. I’m surprised there wasn’t a doorman to stop me and check my tax returns before allowing me inside.

My phone vibrates with another text from my landlord. I don’t read it as I shove my phone back into my purse because I know it’s a variation on the same theme: Where’s the money, Lilah?

Not in my bank account. And it won’t be there anytime soon without another job.

I sigh, nerves settling in my chest, heavy as bricks.

This wasn’t a good idea. I should have never crossed the threshold. The people in the lobby with their appraising looks are right—I don’t belong. And buying an actual drink? I don’t have to look at the prices to know I can’t afford them. Nothing is affordable in this town.

I pull out my bucket list from my purse. It’s the only thing that gives me hope these days. I have dreams. Aspirations. I have plans to get myself out of this mess. I scan the list, wondering if I’ll ever have the chance to cross one of them off.

Closing my eyes, I imagine what life could be like. It’s not like I want an extravagant life. Far from it. I want to live without the nagging anxiety about money. Pay my bills on time. Eat more than ramen. Start the family I never had. I want…

I swallow hard before setting the list down on the counter. It seems like nothing more than a dream. Something I can imagine but I’ll never have.

I search for the bartender, wondering if she’s calling hotel security or making my drink. Neither, apparently. She’s at the far end of the bar, flirting with a man in a suit.

Man in a suit. Ha. Calling him a man in a suit is like calling Thor a man with a hammer. Everything clenches at the sight of him. I’ve seen more than my fair share of gorgeous men in the city, but none of them look as heartrendingly beautiful as him. And he’s staring directly at me with a gaze so penetrating and intense that it knocks the wind right out of me.

God, he’s something. He’s at the other end of the bar, but he might as well be right next to me based on how my body’s reacting to him. I’ve never had such a visceral reaction to anyone before, but there’s something about him that sets my body on fire.

I swivel on the stool as butterflies flutter everywhere and goosebumps bloom all over my body. I must be imagining it. There’s no way he’s looking at me while the bartender is in front of him. I’m nothing like her. She’s perfect and polished while I’m as imperfect and chipped as my nails.

I rub my arms quickly before retrieving my pen, dabbing it gently into my mouth for a moment as I consider something—a thought I’ve never had before flashes into my head. And then another. And another. I can’t help but smile as I add them to the bucket list because these entries are nothing like the rest. There’s something about that man that’s making me a little more daring. A little bit less like me.

By the time I finish scrawling out the new entries and sliding the list back in my purse, the bartender sets a glass in front of me. She leaves without a word, and I glance at the clear liquid in front of me. Vodka? Gin? What kind of drink is this? I was expecting something with a punch of color. But this? I pick up the glass, inspecting it before taking a tentative sip.

…of water.

Better than nothing. I take another sip before setting it down, staring at the edge stained red from my lips. I wonder if there will be a surcharge for her deigning to fill a glass with tap water. The thought dissolves as the rich scent of cedarwood soaked in whiskey creeps into my nostrils.

My body’s reaction is immediate and unrelenting as I sense the sinful presence behind me. I don’t have to look. I know the man behind the scent. The twist in my belly knows. And as much as I try, I can’t ignore the way he’s making me feel.

I clutch my glass and then bring it to my lips out of desperation. My mouth is dry, but my panties are soaked as the man’s hand skims across the nape of my neck.

“Keep drinking,” he says as he sits down next to me. “I want you sober.”

His voice is deep and raspy and rattles through my body. It’s so sexy that it takes a few moments for my head to catch up with his words.

“Excuse me?” I say, staring into my glass, refusing to acknowledge the sinfully sexy man with the sewed-on suit next to me. Maybe if I close my eyes, he’ll disappear. Or I’ll wake up from this dream because it has to be a dream. Why else would someone like him approach someone like me?

But as he gently drags a finger across the side of my cheek, brushing away my hair, I know it’s not a dream. “Keep drinking because I want you to feel everything when I make you mine tonight.”

I hear his words less than I feel them. My nipples pebble beneath my dress and my skin hums with need. I’ve never felt like this before. And with someone I’ve hardly laid eyes on? This is unreal and I’m afraid if I take my eyes away from my glass and look at him it’s game over. There won’t be a chance to go back.

“Aren’t you the picture-perfect image of modesty?” I quip, hoping I sound more confident than I feel.

“Modest?” He says, erasing the small distance between us. His breath is warm against my skin. His lips graze my earlobe as he growls, “There’s nothing modest about what I’m going to do to you tonight.”

If I don’t grab onto the side of the bar I’m liable to slip right off it. Who is this man? When I finally hazard a glance, I can’t breathe. He’s the kind of beautiful that’s devastating. Brutal edges with soft lips. Haunting eyes so clear and blue that they pierce my chest.

He presses his thumb against my lips and drags it down my bottom lip. “I’ve never met someone with such kissable lips.”

I try to swallow, but my throat, along with the rest of my body, is cinched tight.

“I’ve never met someone so…”

Beautiful, charismatic, confident… forward. There are a number of adjectives that I could use to describe this man but I’m not about to stroke his ego, and I don’t think he wants that either. He wants me to stroke something entirely different. And as much as I hate admitting it, I want to. Badly. But with a face and body like his, I can’t help but wonder how often does something like this.

“Presumptuous,” I say finally.

He laughs, pulling his hand away from me. Inwardly, I can feel myself lunge for him and the single word that came out of my mouth. I want to take it back so badly.

He grabs my glass of water, eyes the lipstick-stained rim, and presses his lips against it, sipping. When he finishes, he sets the glass back in front of me, his lips stained from my color. He sucks in his bottom lip and the stain disappears.

“You have no idea how presumptuous I am.” He pauses for a few beats. “Finish your water and follow me to my suite. I want to taste more than the stain on your lips.”

I hold his gaze, mulling over the proposition. Am I really considering this? I shouldn’t. I should leave right now and never look back but for some reason, I can’t. I like the way he’s making me feel. I’ve never been looked at like this before. Desired. Wanted. Lusted after. It feels good to feel good after feeling awful for so long.

And coming from a man like this? It feels really good. He’s in a league of his own. He looks like a billion bucks. Smells like it too. And the way he’s looking at me has me so disoriented and weak that I’m actually considering going wherever he wants to take me. And my body really wants him to take me…

“Or I could taste you right here. Your choice. It doesn’t matter to me. One way or another, those lips will be mine.”

I stare at him for a few moments, his gaze never breaking from mine as his fingertips skim across my skin. Tingling. Burning . He’s hardly touched me and my body’s begging for more. A few more beats pass and neither of us speaks. He’s staring at me as though he already knows my answer.

And he’s not wrong. I need something different. I need a change to shake myself out of this funk. I need…

“Don’t make me regret this.”

One minute later, I’m standing side by side with a stranger, waiting for the elevator. Seconds creep by like hours as my heart pounds, blood thrumming in my ears as I still wonder if I’m actually going through with this. This is not like me at all.

But when I steal another glance at that ruthless jawline of his, the sloping curves of his face, and those lips, I don’t care anymore. This was not how I thought my night would go. But after a string of bad luck, this is exactly what I need: One night with… him.

“I don’t even know your name.” It’s less a question than a statement of fact. “You’re not going to kill me tonight, right?” I add a few seconds later, trying to cut the tension building inside me.

He almost cracks a smile before saying, “Asher.”

So that’s a maybe to the killer question?

“Iris,” I lie. I’m not Lilah, not tonight. Lilah would never do something like this, something so unpredictable. She’d never be in a situation like this to begin with. She’d be at home eating ramen, trying to figure out which bill to skip paying this month.

The elevator doors open. We’re hardly inside before he grabs my wrist and pulls me against his body. My arms press into his hard torso as my pulse skyrockets. “The only thing I’m going to kill tonight is your desire to be with other men. Iris, there will be no going back after tonight. I promise you that.”

The elevator doors shut and I’m pinned against the wall. He moans against my lips as I whimper against his, arching against the wall as he grips my hair with one hand while the other cups my breast.

I can hardly stand as my body melts into his. I’ve never been kissed like this before. Pure. Unadulterated. Voracious and savage.

“I’ve never done this before,” I rasp during the brief moment our lips become unsealed.

“And you’ll never do it again,” he groans into my ear as the weight of his body keeps me riveted against the wall.

I don’t have time to think through the implications before his lips crash against mine again. I’m seeing sparks, a mosaic of colorful fireworks arcing in all directions behind my eyelids. My head’s spinning so fast that not a single thought can gain purchase in my consciousness.

No more overdue rent. No more student loans. No more thoughts of the crushing burden of debt. All I cling to is the feel of Asher’s soft lips against mine as he steals what little breath I have left in my lungs.

I’ve never stolen anything before, but tonight’s a string of firsts: A one-night stand, multiple full-body orgasms, sex with a stranger.

I’ve been staring at the watch on the nightstand for the last twenty minutes. My insides are twisted tighter than the silk bed sheets around my legs. I know I shouldn’t do this. It’s so wrong. And so not me. But tonight I don’t recognize myself.

I disentangle my legs from the sheets, gently removing Asher’s arm from around me. My heart stops for a brief moment as he groans, ramping back up moments later. I swallow hard but the lump in my throat won’t budge. I hold my breath until he finally rolls over with a sigh and falls into the same soft rhythm of breathing he’s had for the last twenty minutes.

I perch on the edge of the bed, staring at the gold, glistening watch as the seconds tick by like hours. I’m light-headed and dizzy. Shaking and sick. Weak.

Why am I still considering this?

I reach for my phone and check the time again. It’s nearly four in the morning and I have seven more missed calls from my landlord and countless texts. I try to read the texts, but I’m so spaced out that they look more like Egyptian hieroglyphs than strings of English sentences.

But even in my state, I recognize one word: Eviction.

It’s not like I didn’t see this coming.

No payment equals no place to live. I get it. But I don’t have the money. After getting fired from my last job because I was late too many times, trekking across town from my second job, money has never been so tight.

The watch is heavy and cold in my palm as I slide off the bed and tiptoe toward the door.

“I’m sorry.” I can’t say his name. I don’t deserve to have his name grace my lips. My whisper fades in the air in front of me along with my resolve, warm tears rolling down my cheek as I turn around and leave the bedroom knowing that there’s no coming back from this.