Chapter 1 Accidental Boss Daddy
When your ex calls you fat in a room full of rich, powerful men, you don’t sulk.
You sleep with the silver fox who worships your curves.
I went to a masquerade party to drown my sorrows in champagne.
Instead, my ex showed up and made a scene—loudly.
Then a hot, older stranger shut him down.
With a voice that did dangerous things to my knees.
And big hands that made me forget my own name.
All. Night. Long.
Fast forward…I’m a broke single mom at breaking point, accepting a “full-service” executive assistant job.
And my boss?
Billionaire silver fox.
Owner of multiple gentlemen's clubs.
Panty-melting growl.
...My masked one-night stand.
Oh. And my son's father.
Now my body—and my heart—are at his mercy.
Whatever he needs.
Day and night.
At the office… and in the bedroom.
And when my ex comes back for revenge?
My boss makes one thing very clear—
What’s his
…isn’t up for negotiation.
Chapter 1
Ellie
“Can you tell I’ve been crying?” I turn around to face my sister Rachel and watch as her eyes narrow.
As long as we’ve been sisters, which is obviously the entirety of my life, she has been bad at lying to me.
She is, however, good at making me feel better.
Usually.
“Either that or you’ve been getting a little recreational in your free time,” she jokes with a snort, a signature laugh for Rachel.
I give her a look, a signature of my dry personality.
“That’s not funny,” I tell her, turning back to the blingy hotel lobby mirror.
I lift my black, feathery cat-eye mask, wondering how on earth my sister was able to convince me to come to this charity…gala…event thing.
In the end, of course, the selling point was booze.
I am fresh out of a relationship gone oh so terribly wrong.
Free cocktails were arguably the only thing that could get me out the door of my residential Las Vegas apartment and onto the strip.
Rachel grabs me by the bare shoulders and forces me to face her. “Look at me, Ellie. You are young–”
“I’m almost thirty.”
“And you are sexy.”
“That’s debatable,” I mutter, but I am smiling.
Frustrating my older sister has always been an enjoyable pastime for me.
“And you are single. S-I-N-G-L-E. I’m talking single with a capital S. Single…TM.”
“Jesus,” I whine as I pull away from her, going back to the mirror to fix my mascara, which, without a masquerade mask, very much shows.
Why, oh why, did I not opt for the waterproof Maybelline?
Oh, I remember why.
Because I’m probably going to quit my job so I don’t have to see my now ex-boyfriend slash co-worker five days a week.
My mascara begins to run again.
“Forget the makeup,” my sister comes to my rescue, covering my eyes with the mask again. “You are stunning, and we are going to have fun. Now. Let’s go find one of those skimpy little cocktail waitresses and get this party started!”
I sigh as my sister bites down on her tongue with a smile and grabs my hand, tugging both of us out the door and back into the hotel event room.
I have to admit, it’s swanky as hell.
As a lover of hotels and all things event planning, I’ve always envied these hotels.
The chi-chinging sound of slot machines in the distance, the chandeliers that look like they’re made of diamonds though I’m sure it’s just glass. The circular bar right in the middle of everything with young, attractive people making all sorts of fancy cocktails.
And at tonight’s event, the hundreds of pretty people are all enjoying themselves at some rich as fuck hotel owner’s expense while they wave their wallets around nonchalantly in the name of charity.
“Live a little, Ellie-not-Annelise,” my sister says with a glimmering smile as she grabs two glasses of champagne off a tray and hands me one.
Ever since I was little, I’ve hated my real name.
Annelise. It sounds like the name of a princess waiting to be rescued out of a tower when she could just wait until no villains, dragons, or princes are looking and dash off into the woods at the witching hour.
While I do have a heart-shaped face, pouty pink lips, and curly blonde hair, I am no princess. “Suited muscles everywhere.”
“I’m in mourning,” I say, downing half my glass of champagne. I let out a low whistle and say, “Damn, this ain’t the cheap stuff!”
“Are you kidding?” Rachel asks, taking a sip. “This hotel is owned by…what’s his face? You work in the hotel industry. You should know who I’m talking about.”
“There are no less than 278 hotels in this city,” I tell her, nursing my bubbly and looking around for round two.
I’m not really a champagne kind of girl, but with the mood I’m in right now, I very much am a drinking kind of girl.
I wouldn’t put it past me to throw a toddler-level fit if I go dry and don’t have another glass handed to me within the same sixty seconds. “I don’t have every manager memorized by heart.”
“Yeah, well, I hear this one has the face of an angel and the jawline of the devil,” she smirks, looking around the room. “Not to mention, he’s an olive-skinned silver fox.”
“Aren’t you in a relationship?” I ask teasingly.
“Yes, and we are in love. I’m looking for you.”
“God, don’t bother,” I mutter as my eyes begin to sting again, and I gulp the rest of my drink.
Dry. Fuck.
“Okay, first of all, fuck Dylan. I mean, who dumps someone like you for someone like that?”
“Dylan,” I answer.
“Exactly. You aren’t going to cry about it anymore. You’re going to drink about it, and eat about it,” she says, swiping two cheesy puffed pastry things off a tray as it passes by.
I have to admit, even with my chronic lack of appetite lately, it is good. “Now. Let’s find a drink!”
My sister once again whisks me off and, despite my crummy mood and throbbing chest, I follow.
She has a way of sitting with me in the gutters of life just long enough for a sisterly pep talk before reeling me out of it. Easy to do when your life is picture perfect.
We make our way to the bar where we both order a cocktail, and she also asks for two pineapple upside-down cake shots.
“To my lovely little sister. May she either get drunk enough or laid good enough to forget all about what’s his nuts.”
I clink my shot glass against hers and we down them. Then I giggle. “I forgot how good these are,” I say.
“I know, right?” she smiles.
The bartender set our drinks down. Mine is the color of grapefruit and has a spiced pear slice hanging on the rim as garnish.
I have to admit; my spirits are lifting. Even if it is only because of the spirits I am downing. I’ll take what I can get. These drinks are obviously watered down because I’m at least three deep, but only have a buzz. At least it takes the edge off.
Just before I can take a sip, I hear his voice, and I whip around in horror.
“El. I would never have thought I’d see you here.” Dylan’s voice sends my heart into a panicked frenzy.
It also makes me feel like I’m going to throw up.
“Why not?” Rachel asks. “She has a prestigious job in Vegas in the hospitality industry.”
“Hmm,” Dylan lets out his trademark unimpressed sound before his eyes drag over me. His lips tip up into a smirk. “You look different,” he says. “Thinner.”
I am frozen.
It’s almost like my drink was spiked with something that paralyzes me.
I want to run, but I can’t move.
I want to rebut with some kind of snide remark, but I can’t speak.
Luckily, Rachel’s mouth seems to be working just fine.
“That would be a side effect of infidelity in a relationship,” she says.
Dylan is still smiling, but there’s tension in his jaw.
I know that look all too well.
He’s going to go for blood.
“El, you remember Tish, don’t you?” he asks, and that’s when I realize his little secretary is standing here, her fragile hands clasped onto his arm.
“How could I forget?” I ask with a pleasant smile. At least, I hope it’s pleasant. The way he’s smiling, I’d put money on it that I look like I’m going to faint.
“You know you really have a lot of nerve,” Rachel starts in like the firecracker that she is.
“I’m sorry, was I talking to you?” he spits out. And there it is. Dylan is all talk until his little boy temper hits the surface, and then he’s just an ass.
“She’s right,” I say. Because nothing brings out my salty side like someone fucking with my sister. “You do have a lot of nerve. For cheating on me. Flaunting your robbed from the cradle girlfriend in front of me all so you feel like a big man. Tell me, Tish. Are you even old enough to drink?”
Rachel snorts, but I’m not amused.
I’m feeling a little unhinged right now, to be honest.
I’m also not finished.
“I know you feel like you’ve won, but let me tell you something. You’ve lost. You’ve lost a woman who thought she loved you. You’ve lost a co-worker who is the only reason you’ve come as far as you have. And you’ve lost your reputation.”
It’s quiet for a moment, and I can literally feel my chest rising and falling as the words I’ve never had the guts to say before hang in the air between us.
“Do you feel better now?” he asks, and I can physically feel myself starting to deflate. “The reason I am where I am has nothing to do with you, Annelise. If anything, you held me back.”
“Held you back?” I ask, borrowing my sister’s signature snort for a moment.
“You wouldn’t have that job if it weren’t for me.
The fact is, Dylan, you used me as a ladder.
Except for the part where you dipped down into shallower pools for whatever this is,” I wave my hand over Tish as I say the words.
“Hey, fuck you!” Dylan snaps, a little too loudly.
Suddenly the room turns quiet and all eyes are on us.
But I am done.
I take Rachel by the hand and make my way around Dylan and his arm candy.
As I go to pass him, he grabs me by the arm, jarring me enough to spill my drink down the front of my dress. “You listen to me,” he says.
My confidence is lost, and the only thing I want now is to get the hell out of this hotel.
But when I go to pull away, he doesn’t let go.
“Actually,” he says, his gaze running up and down my body with open disgust, “I broke up with you because I couldn't stand the sight of you naked.”
I open my mouth to say something, but before I can, a husky, male voice talks over the top of me, nearly blowing me over.
“Is there a problem here?” he demands, and I look up (way…up) to see a man with broad shoulders, a tight torso, and the world’s most gruffly pronounced jawline I’ve ever laid eyes on glaring down at Dylan.
“No. Nothing I can’t take care of anyway,” Dylan says.
“Then I highly suggest you take your hand off of the beautiful woman.”
I swallow hard as I stare up at the man.
His face is masked, like everyone else’s. I mean, it is a masquerade. But his nearly covers half of his face. It’s very Phantom of the Opera.
I don’t hate it.
I also don’t hate the way his absolute presence is making Dylan uneasy and making me a little…wet.
“I’m sorry, who are you?” Dylan asks.
“You need to leave,” the man says, but Dylan just lets out an irritated laugh.
“You’re joking, right?”
I don’t think this man has a funny bone in his body.
After a two-second staring contest, Dylan takes the hint and lets go.
“You know what? Fuck this place,” he says before ushering his Barbie away.
“Holy shit,” Rachel says. “Are you okay, sis?”
If I’m being honest, I’m not totally sure.
Everything around me has turned to white noise, and it isn’t until I can physically feel my chin quivering that I realize I’m shaking.
“You spilled your drink,” the man says. “Come with me.”
The next thing I know, he is whisking me away through a private door.
I’m not used to being rescued. I’ve never really needed it before, to be honest.
But after my conversation with Dylan, I am feeling a little on edge.
That and dead-ass sober.
My silver fox hero never answered who he is, and I have no idea where he is taking me.
Between his statue-esque stance, the warmth of his giant hand on my lower back, and the spicy sweet scent of his cologne, I am too bewitched to ask.