by Laura Lee
LAURA LEE
©2020 Lovestruck Publishing LLC
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
ABOUT BILLIONAIRE BOSSHOLE
DEDICATION
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
EPILOGUE
PUBLIC RELATIONS PREVIEW
ALSO AVAILABLE BY LAURA LEE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ABOUT BILLIONAIRE BOSSHOLE
Bosshole (ˈbȯs - ˈhōl )
-noun
1. A person who turns into a massive jerk ten seconds after being made supervisor.
2. An employer completely devoid of empathy or concern for anyone else.
3. A manager with whom you often disagree.
Also see: jerk boss, a$$hole, egomaniac
Do you know the one thing you should never do at work?
Your boss.
Sadly, following that particular piece of advice is much easier said than done.
Ronan Maxwell is hands down the sexiest man I’ve ever met. He’s also the pushiest, most demanding, and most arrogant S.O.B. on the planet. And even though I can’t stand him, I never stop wondering how his ridiculously pretty mouth would feel against my skin. Or whether or not that bulge in his pants is as impressive as it seems.
For two years, I had it under control. But then one late night, all that changed. Now that I know firsthand how electrifying his touch can be, I want him more than ever. And the longer we continue this twisted relationship, the softer my heart gets. I have no idea what the future holds, but one thing I know for sure—this man has the power to break my heart.
And that’s one thing I can never let happen.
*Billionaire Bosshole is the third installment in the Bedding the Billionaire world. It is a full-length interconnected standalone novel.
Editor: Erin Potter of Potter Author Services
Proofreader: Ellie McLove of My Brother’s Editor
Cover Design: Lori Jackson Design
Cover Model: Lucas Loyola
Photographer: Wander Aguiar Photography
DEDICATION
To Lizzo, for unapologetically being a badass bitch, empowering women across the world.
CHAPTER ONE
QUINN
“His dick must be huge.”
I nearly sprayed my coffee all over the closing elevator doors. “Sylvie!”
“What?” My best friend shrugged. “If you think about it, statistically, he’s packing some serious heat. You’ve seen his bulge. Goddamn, what I wouldn’t give to be on the receiving end of that.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. I was going to need another triple latte to deal with her today. I loved Sylvie to death, but sometimes her lack of filter could be a bit much. Case in point: this discussion in a crammed elevator at eight o’clock on a Monday morning. I had no idea how our conversation had even taken this turn. One minute we were talking about getting drinks after work, and the next it was all dicks, all the time.
“Will you please stop talking about the man’s penis?” I whisper-shouted.
She laughed. “Oh, c’mon, Quinn, you can’t say you haven’t thought about it. The man’s a giant—what is he, like six-foot-three, six-foot-four? Easily two hundred ten pounds of drool-worthy muscle. I wonder how big of a baby he was. I’d bet my Chanel clutch that he’s been obliterating vaginas since birth.”
I groaned and mouthed an apology to the elderly woman standing beside me.
Why is this damn thing so slow?
I could not step off the elevator fast enough once we finally arrived on the fifty-first floor.
“Quinn!” Sylvie shouted, her ridiculous heels click-clacking on the marble floor. “Slow down!”
I sighed and waited for her to catch up. “You do realize there were at least a dozen other people trapped in that elevator with us, right?”
She scrunched her brows. “And?”
“Oh my God, you crazy woman, you can’t just go around talking about the size of a man’s cock. Especially not Ronan Maxwell’s cock, in his own damn building! What if an employee heard us?”
Sylvie laughed. “First of all, if anyone has a problem talking about cock size, or cocks in general, they need to loosen up or get laid. Secondly, I never said the man’s name.” She looked around the reception area. “Although, you just did. Quite loudly, in fact.”
I glanced around and sure enough, Antonio, the head receptionist, was snickering. Luckily for me, he was my other best friend.
I pointed at him. “Not a damn word.”
He mimed buttoning his lips and batted his eyelashes. “My lips are sealed, honey. Although, if you’re going to continue this conversation, you bitches better include me.”
I glared at him. “Is he here yet?”
“Who?” Antonio asked innocently. “The owner of the cock in question?”
My eyes narrowed farther. “No, you idiot. The delivery guy from Stumptown.”
“Oh, don’t get your La Perlas in a bunch. He just left five minutes ago. Everyone will be sufficiently fed and caffeinated. Now, tell me more about Mr. Maxwell’s D. The greater the detail, the better.”
I growled, making both Antonio and Sylvie laugh, as I made my way down the long hallway leading to our main conference room.
Maxwell Hotels had recently acquired two gorgeous properties in Hawaii, and today we were meeting to discuss our new marketing campaign for the launch. When Sylvie and I got to the conference room, I immediately started rearranging the pastries so the muffins were on the left, the bagels were in the middle, and the Danishes were on the right. Our CEO, Ronan Maxwell, or as I liked to refer to him, the billionaire bosshole, was the most anally retentive person on the planet. I had no idea why, but the man had practically had an aneurysm the last time the pastries had been all mixed together. I had no desire to find yet another coffee vendor, so I was arranging them by height, just the way he preferred.
Sylvie switched on the projector, cueing up her PowerPoint presentation. She had been with the company for about four years as our creative director of marketing and
I had been here just over two as Mr. Maxwell’s executive assistant. Between you and me, she’d definitely gotten the better end of the deal. My salary might seem obscene to outsiders, but if they knew what I had to deal with on any given day, they’d think I was underpaid.
I walked to the front of the room and exchanged warm greetings with several members of our executive team as they filed in, taking their designated seats.
“Thank you for being here today. As you know, renovations for our new Hawaiian locations are near completion.” I nodded to Sylvie. “Miss O’Hare’s team has created a brilliant marketing campaign to capitalize on the upcoming high season. She’s going to review each phase of—”
Mr. Maxwell then entered the room. As usual, he was dressed impeccably in a charcoal designer suit—Prada, I was guessing—with a crisp white shirt. The overhead lights glinted off his signature platinum cufflinks as he looked at his watch.
His light blue eyes met mine and for a moment, I forgot about how much I loathed this man. His focus was so intense, it was a miracle I could finish my sentence. Ronan Maxwell was so beautiful, yet masculine, it took my breath away. Every inch of him was undeniably attractive, but my gaze always got hung up on his ridiculously full lips.
I couldn’t tell you how many times I’d fantasized about tugging that lower lip between my teeth. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he got injections. As much as I’d like to deny it, my lady bits were instantly ready for action any time he was near. Hell, the man could practically make me come just with his deep, rumbly voice. It also didn’t help that you could bounce a quarter off his ass and he always wore his dark brown hair in that freshly fucked way that I loved.
I looked away, deliberately ignoring how his perfectly tailored suit stretched across his broad chest. Once, I’d walked in on him changing, and I swear on my life, I almost orgasmed on the spot. Mr. Maxwell stood in the middle of his office, completely shirtless. For someone who worked so many hours, you wouldn’t think his muscles would be so defined, but I could personally attest to the fact that they were. He even had that elusive V that turned smart women into dumbasses.
I had no idea when he fit time into his schedule for a workout, but I wouldn’t lie and tell you that I wasn’t grateful. It was only a matter of seconds before he pulled on a new shirt—one that didn’t have a giant coffee stain on it—but that brief moment in time had inspired more than one X-rated dream. If nothing else, the man was good for that.
“We all know why we’re here,” Head Asshole barked. “Now, since you make a much better door than a window, if you’ll move aside so we can actually see the slides, that’d be fantastic, Miss Montgomery.”
Well, that certainly reminds me how much of a jerk he is.
I took the seat closest to Sylvie and gestured for her to begin her presentation. I was only half-listening since I’d already seen all the slides, which was probably a good thing since Mr. Maxwell was being his usual condescending self. Sylvie fielded his questions like the marketing badass that she was, and when she reached the end of her PowerPoint, the other executives were looking at her with admiration, clearly pleased with her presentation.
Mr. Maxwell, of course, was never satisfied with anything. “Miss O’Hare, is this truly the best idea your team could come up with?” He gestured to the projector screen. “Surely, you can think of a more original slogan than ‘A Taste of Paradise in Paradise.’”
Sylvie cleared her throat. “Mr. Maxwell, as I mentioned in my presentation, that slogan is what our panel of testers responded best to.”
He rolled his eyes. “I don’t give a shit what testers responded best to. I care about what’s going to max out our occupancy. What’s going to boost sales for spa services and guest excursions. I care about what’s going to make me and our shareholders money. And this slogan is not it. Understand?”
She blinked rapidly. “Yes, sir. We’ll come up with more ideas and get those to you by the end of the week.”
“You have until Thursday, or you’ll all be looking for new jobs. Am I clear?” Mr. Maxwell folded his arms over his chest.
Sylvie nodded and began closing down her laptop. “Yes, sir.”
Mr. Maxwell looked around the room. “Well, what are you waiting for? The meeting is over. Get out of here.”
Ugh, he is such an ass.
As I headed toward the door, Mr. Maxwell said, “Not you, Miss Montgomery. I’d like a word.”
Sylvie mouthed good luck as she stepped out of the room.
I mirrored his stance and crossed my arms. “Yes?”
He stared at me without a word. When he licked his bottom lip, unbidden images of him tracing that tongue over my skin flashed before me. What was wrong with me? This man was the biggest jerk I’d ever met, yet I couldn’t stop fantasizing about him in every compromising situation imaginable.
“You approved Miss O’Hare’s presentation?”
I lifted my chin. “Yes, I did, because it was a damn good one.”
He scoffed. “Funny, I thought you would’ve learned by now that I do not accept mediocrity. Those ideas were ‘damn good’ if we were a budget hotel chain. Need I remind you that we are one of the largest luxury hotel chains in the world, Miss Montgomery?”
My eyes narrowed. “I am well aware, Mr. Maxwell.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
I had to literally bite my tongue to avoid an outburst. “Will there be anything else?” The fuck off was implied in my tone.
When he stood, my eyes automatically fell to the bulge Sylvie had mentioned. Holy hell, was he getting hard?
“My eyes are up here, Miss Montgomery.”
Shit!
I could feel my cheeks flushing, but I brushed it off, like I wasn’t just caught staring at his crotch. “I’m also well aware of that.”
The asshole smirked. “Of course you are. You’re dismissed. Get the hell out of my conference room.”
I brushed past him, refusing to acknowledge what that cocky smile did to me.
“Oh, and Miss Montgomery?”
I paused over the threshold and looked over my shoulder. “Yes?”
“Next time you waste my time by approving a shit campaign like that, you’ll be looking for a new job, too.”
Like I said. Ass. Hole.
CHAPTER TWO
RONAN
“Do you think he goes downtown? Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to have that man’s head between my thighs.”
My EA chuckled at her friend, Miss O’Hare. “Yeah, right. Ronan Maxwell wouldn’t eat pussy unless it increased his net worth. Nothing about that man indicates that he’s a giver.”
Ah, Miss Montgomery, how wrong you are. I’d be more than happy to show you how much I love eating pussy.
“That’s too bad,” Miss O’Hare mused.
“Agreed,” Miss Montgomery said. “I can’t tell you how many nights I’ve gotten off to fantasies of him going down on me. Just this morning, I woke up so damn wet from dreaming about him that I had to Jill off in the shower three times.”
Well, this conversation just got a lot more interesting.
For the last fifteen minutes, I’d been listening in on them. My lunch meeting had been canceled at the last minute, so Miss Montgomery had no idea I was still in the building. I was just about to step out to grab a bite when I heard the ladies returning with their takeout. I wasn’t sure what had stopped me, but when their voices rang through the slight crack in the doorway, curiosity got the best of me. Now, I was on the couch that sat against our shared wall, trying not to breathe too loudly.
“I’m telling you, Quinn, I think you should go for it. Just walk into his office, take that big dick out of his pants, and give him the ride of his life. I’d bet you anything that he’d be much nicer to you after that.”
Miss Montgomery laughed. “Yeah, right. That prick is incapable of being nice. And I’m still not convinced on your theory about the size of his cock. His special brand of assholery tells me that he’s compensating
for something. Plus, he drives a McLaren. I mean, c’mon, if that doesn’t scream tiny dick, I don’t know what does.”
I’d be more than happy to prove you wrong, sweetheart.
Fuck, said cock was getting painfully hard just thinking about it. I pressed my open palm against my fly, willing it to calm down. I’d known Quinn Montgomery would be trouble the moment I’d laid eyes on her. Human Resources handled all of the hiring around here, so I hadn’t met her until her first day on the job. When I’d caught sight of her long blonde hair, those bee-stung lips, and luscious curves, I’d instantly wanted to push her up against the wall and fuck her senseless.
The first year that she worked here, I’d bedded several hot blondes, trying to squash my attraction to her. Unfortunately for me—and my dick—I was always left wanting in the end. So much so, that I’d stopped trying. Over the last twelve months, I’d had nothing but my hand and fantasies of my sexy-as-fuck assistant. To say that I was sexually frustrated would be a massive understatement.
The most aggravating part—besides the fact that she worked for me so I couldn’t go there—was that I knew she wanted me, too. I didn’t need to eavesdrop on this conversation to confirm that. I saw the longing looks she gave me when she thought I wasn’t watching. How often her eyes hungrily roamed my body. Hell, she was staring at my crotch like she wanted to swallow my dick just a few hours ago. When she gave me that look, it took every ounce of willpower that I possessed not to pin her to the conference table. The woman couldn’t stand me, no doubt, but she fucking wanted me.
My ears perked up when I heard Miss Montgomery speaking again. “This fixation of mine is getting ridiculous, Syl. Why can’t I get him out of my head?”
“You know what I think?” Miss O’Hare replied through what I assumed was a mouthful of food.
“What?”
“You need to get laid. The last time was that cute guy from accounting, right?”
Which guy from accounting?
Miss Montgomery groaned. “Yeah. Over a year ago. And that was underwhelming at best. The only reason I even got off was because I took matters into my own hand and started fantasizing about my stupid boss.”
