Chapter 2
Donovan York
I’m focused on the file in front of me so intently, I barely hear my assistant, Ashley, knock. What the finance team has produced is unlike anything I’ve seen before. Budgets adjusted, expenses cut, yet not a single department workload has been affected.
No impact on culture, output, or business function at all.
On top of that, they've included forecasting, income generation ideas—some of which I can’t believe I didn’t already think of—and projected financials for multiple scenarios, from European trade agreements to what happens if a ship full of our fabrics from the Philippines sinks, doubling spend and jeopardizing our existing commitments.
This is what I need. This is the kind of work that needs to happen here in order for me to take York Enterprises to the next level.
To make it bigger and better than my father ever could.
When Shelley from finance presented this, I was speechless. She delivers monthly reports, but when she mentioned a new hire named Jay Jay was the lead on it this time, I knew I had to meet him.
The door closes, startling me from my thoughts, and I look up, ready to congratulate the man responsible for this brilliance.
“Jay Jay, this is…” The words die on my lips, as does my grin. Jay Jay is not who I expected.
I’m never lost for words. I speak at global conferences, I’m fluent in multiple languages, I network with people I like and many I don’t, and often. Yet here I am, mouth slightly agape, my throat dry.
Jay Jay is a woman. A young, breathtakingly beautiful woman.
Standing in my office, she looks entirely out of place.
Her outfit is smart, conservative work attire but slightly ill-fitting.
Unremarkable to an untrained eye, yet I immediately recognize the fabric, a unique vintage tweed, which everyone is expecting to make a huge resurgence and is a top pick in our upcoming line.
And her heels, they’re shorter and thicker than the women in this building usually wear, yet they complement her outfit perfectly.
They wouldn’t be out of place on the streets of Milan or Paris.
It’s clear she knows fashion and trend cycles.
Her makeup is understated and brings out her features, and her hair is neat, glossy, and long, the type men notice, the type that makes me want to run my fingers through it before gripping it tight.
With her hands clasped calmly in front of her, she watches me closely.
There’s no nervous fidgeting. Aside from the slight blush to her cheeks, she seems in control and not the least bit intimidated.
I’m immediately very interested.
My eyes drop over her frame and back up again. Women rarely take my breath away, but this one makes me forget how to breathe altogether.
It’s then I realize I’m staring. I clear my throat.
“Sorry, I was expecting…”
"A man?" Her eyebrow arches with barely disguised amusement. Obviously, she’s heard this before. And just like that, I’m a cliché. It stings more than I expected.
I toss the file on my desk and pocket my hands, pulling myself together. I’m rarely surprised. I don’t get thrown off course by anyone or anything. But as she blinks up at me expectantly from behind her thick glasses, I feel a little off-kilter.
I run a fashion empire. Most of the women who work for me are either trying to get in my bed or on the front cover of a magazine.
Many use me for my connections, for my profile.
They love to take photos and expand their social media.
Something I’m hotly against. They almost fall over themselves to get to me.
This woman looks uninterested in either of those options.
She’s small in stature, yet she’s completely captivating.
“A common theme for you?”
“Somewhat.” Straight to the point, so I match her energy.
“This file is outstanding.”
“Thank you.”
“You have things in here that our team have been trying to achieve for over twelve months…” Picking up the file again, I flick through, still thoroughly impressed.
“That’s why Shelley hired me.”
“On a project basis, is that right?” I glance at her employment file on my desk. Apparently, I didn’t look at it closely enough to know that Jay Jay isn’t a man.
“Correct. Assuming you’re pleased with everything, the project completion date and my contract end in a few weeks.”
“Do you want to leave?” I’m winging this now.
But as she pushes up her glasses again, her eyes land on mine, and there’s absolutely no way I’m letting her walk out of here.
Her gaze is unwavering, and my body fills with a renewed sense of challenge.
A feeling I haven't felt for a very long time. In business or my personal life.
She looks taken aback by my statement so I continue.
“The work you’ve done to date here is financial, but I need eyes like yours on our logistics, our exports, our manufacturing.
I’m working on an acquisition strategy that I could use your help with.
There are more measures we can take to streamline, forecast, and restructure.
York Enterprises should not only remain profitable but also grow market share. ”
“You already hold the majority market share.”
“Thirty-five percent is hardly a majority,” I banter back.
“There’s no one else that comes close.”
“Still… I think it’s time for a solid acquisition strategy.” I see the wheels in her head turning. I want to grow this business; I want more for York than my father ever thought possible.
Her head tilts in question as she says, “Jasper Textiles…”
I grin. I’ve known her for five minutes, and I’m already certain we’d work well together. Her thoughts mirror my own. She’s quick. On point. My heart's racing.
“I’ve been wanting to buy them for a while.” The Jasper family has been a thorn in my side for years. Underhanded, unethical, and desperate to see me fail.
“They’re an obvious choice. Unlikely to sell, yet vulnerable.”
“You’ve worked in fashion textiles before?” I grab her employment file again. I must have missed something else.
“Never.”
Her answer has my head whipping back up, eyes meeting hers. “Never?” She’s got to be kidding. The quality of work she’s done… Her insights…
“No. My last job was in lawn sprinklers.”
“Lawn sprinklers?” What the hell is she talking about?
“It’s a two point eight billion dollar industry,” she tells me simply.
“Huh.” I toss the file aside, knowing it's not going to tell me what I want. I’d rather have my eyes on her anyway.
She’s steadfast, clever, and distractingly beautiful.
As I glance at her hands and see no rings, my shoulders lower a little.
Those thoughts shouldn’t matter. I don’t care about the personal lives of my employees, and I sure as hell shouldn’t be entertaining any romantic notions with a staff member.
And yet as I notice her minimal jewelry, I know diamonds would look good on her.
The room is still as I step around my desk and lean against the front, gripping on to the edge so I keep a little distance from her. Because the urge to walk over and touch her face is disturbingly strong.
Fuck. My thoughts are already so unprofessional, it's startling.
“So you come into businesses, lift profits, decrease expenses, add value to shareholders… and then… disappear?”
She nods. “Usually.”
“Why?”
Her brow pinches as her pretty eyes search mine for a few seconds. “Why?”
“Yes, why? You have the skills. A track record. Why wouldn’t someone keep you?”
She’s unwavering yet looking at me like I’ve asked the most ridiculous question.
“Most businesses don’t like that I hold up a mirror to their strategies.
They feel raw. Exposed. They think they’re already on the path to success, and they hate it when someone points out how flawed their systems are.
Especially someone like me.” She’s right.
My ego took a bruising reading her report.
Some of the recommendations cut initiatives that I implemented.
But my need for success is greater than my ego.
I’m happy to admit when I’m wrong and move forward with a new strategy.
“Someone like you?” I press.
“Young. Female.” Beautiful. Fuckable… I add silently, then jerk myself upright.
Get it together, York. She’s your employee, not a date.
I push my hair back from my forehead and scrub my jaw.
I date a lot of women. Too many, if you believe everything you read in the social pages.
It isn’t something I do consciously. I have a lot of events where I need a plus one, and I meet a lot of people everywhere I go.
It’s odd for me to have a night in, but these days, it’s something I’m starting to miss.
That’s what makes this woman in front of me so surprising.
I went on a date last night with Miranda, a fashion model from Milan.
Tonight, I’m heading to a new Broadway show with Catherine, a beauty editor from England whom I met in passing at a fashion show a month ago.
My cell is full of names, women who would jump at a moment's notice to be on my arm, yet this woman now has my entire attention.
Beauty and brains are a deadly combination.
The need to move makes my body jittery. I step closer to her, almost too close.
“I think your work is outstanding.” I draw in a deep breath, and her floral aroma halts my steps. My body automatically provides the self-preservation I need from doing something increasingly stupid.
“I enjoy it.” She swallows roughly, the action making me realize that she isn’t as unaffected by me as I first thought.
The silence stretches, neither of us moving, both watching the other, my own heart pounding in time with the rapid pulse in her neck.
My eyes drop over her again, something she doesn’t miss as I hear her inhale sharply. The air between us is electric.
I should step back. I should sit my ass down at my desk, thank her for the fantastic job she’s doing, then tell her to leave.
“Be my business advisor.” I’m going straight to hell.
Eyes widening, she asks softly, “Your what?”
“My business advisor. I want you to sit on the executive floor and report directly to me. I want your eyes and ears on every department, every initiative, and on every employee. This report outlines what can be done over the next six to twelve months. But we have legacy systems, a fragile culture, evolving logistics. I want York Enterprises bigger, stronger, and future proofed.”
“I’m…” she starts to say, shaking her head.
“Flattered?”
“No…”
I frown. “Honored?” I offer warily.
Her lips purse slightly. “No.”
“Surprised?” That one feels closer.
“Well, yes…” She’s still hesitant. I haven’t won her yet.
“Full time, six figures. Full healthcare and all benefits.” I lay out my cards, taking another small step toward her, causing her to look up a little more. I pause. Her face is illuminated by the overhead lights, her hair falling down her back, and her mouth opens a little. Fuck.
“That’s very generous of you.” Her voice is barely a whisper. I have no idea what’s going on. Other than it's palpable.
“So that’s a yes?” I clench my hands in my pockets so I don’t move them. I’ve never asked an employee to stay and never cared this much about the answer.
“I don’t think it’s something I can make work.”
I pause. She’s rejecting me?
“You don’t think…?” I’m not used to not getting what I want the minute I see it. No one declines a job offer from York Enterprises, or an offer from me. Our graduate program is the most competitive in the country. People bend over backward for the chance to work here.
Eyes flicking away from mine, she seems to ponder her response. “I have something else lined up already.”
I watch her closely. She pushes her glasses back up again, and I know she’s lying, but I don’t know why.
“Whatever they’re paying, I’ll double it.” My shoulders are tight, my gaze unwavering.
Those eyes widen once more, this time flaring with something I can’t name. “Again, that’s very generous…”
“So… yes?”
“No. No, thank you—”
My cell vibrates, catching both of our attention. I’m needed elsewhere, but I don’t want to move. I feel even more unsettled than I did when I first laid eyes on her. She’s the first woman to have rejected anything I’ve offered in a very long time. I’m now even more intrigued.
“I don’t often have people reject a job offer at York Enterprises.”
Her cheeks flush a little more, and she looks unsure for the first time since she walked in.
“But I’m okay with working hard to get what I want.”
She rolls her lips, a sweet grin trying hard to break through, and I clench my back molars to prevent a smile.
“And you want me?” Her voice is soft, almost angelic as our gazes don’t waver. Hell yeah, I want her. But I need to think with my head instead of my dick.
“Six figures. Full healthcare…” I start to reel off my offer again.
“I can’t. I appreciate the offer, though. Was there anything else you needed?” She’s dismissing me. Here, in my office. On the top floor of a building I own, towering over the New York skyline that is my playground. And she’s dismissing me?
I’m stunned for a moment. Did I have this all wrong? Does she not feel the desire swirling between us? I’ve never felt this instant heat with any woman before, certainly not in my office during a workday.
I clear my throat. “That will be all, Miss Jackson.”
“Have a lovely weekend… Mr. York.” I watch her turn and walk out of my office, standing here, frozen and astounded.
Comically stunned. Wondering if I made a mistake by offering her a position, because the way her hips move as she walks away from me should be illegal.
And no matter how brilliant her mind, no matter how much I want her on my team… I also want her in my bed.
And those are two desires I can’t afford to mix.
My cell vibrates again, but I ignore it. As I lower into my chair, her floral scent lingers like a dare. Then I reach for her personnel file and flip it open.
Because for the first time in a long time, I need to work a little harder for something I want.