The Boss and the Brat: A Billionaire Romance

by Frost, Sosie

  “I said I’m not hungry.” I pointed him toward the frying pans I’d stashed in my oven. No need to cook when Cameron insisted on ordering from every fancy restaurant in Ironfield with a foreign name. “What are you making?”

  “I learned how to make these eggs in Tibet.”

  This didn’t surprise me. “Okay…what makes them different from other eggs?”

  He cracked three into the pan. “Well, they taste real good when your oxygen deprived.”

  “Fine. You eat them, and I’ll hold my breath for you.”

  “Don’t need to hold it.” His wicked grin might’ve worked on me had I not been fighting a rebelling stomach at the sight of the eggs. “I’ve already taken yours away.”

  “Despite your best attempts, I’m not that easily impressed.”

  “Easily seduced though.”

  “Maybe I took pity on you?”

  “Then I must be the most pitiful man in the world.” He winked at me. “Or the luckiest.”

  My nausea disagreed. “I wouldn’t say that.”

  Especially since the man was completely unaware that he was walking around a literal minefield of pregnancy tests.

  And something told me Cameron would be unprepared for such a bombshell.

  I backed away from the stove before the aroma of the frying eggs walloped me in the gut.

  “Don’t be offended when I don’t eat,” I said.

  “I considered bringing over the strawberries and whipped cream…” Cameron flipped eggs in the pan. “But the last time we had that breakfast, we were almost late to work.”

  Any girl would be late to work with a man like Cameron licking at her belly button.

  “And pancakes were out because you don’t like to be sticky,” he said. “Even if I prefer you that way.”

  Was the man trying to make me panic?

  Cause I wasn’t about to do it.

  I had this situation completely under control.

  Just so happened that one thoroughly gorgeous man layered in masculinity and arrogance dropped my eggs quicker than he could scramble the ones from the store.

  Nothing a girl couldn’t handle on her own.

  …Given enough time to process the information.

  Unfortunately, Cameron Mitchell was the sort of pain-in-my-ass that would deny me the satisfaction of panicking by myself.

  Somehow, he saw through me, knew everything about me, and possessed a sixth sense on how best to irritate me.

  He took pleasure in making me hate him.

  And it’d entertained him to watch the countless times I’d declared my resignation and stormed out of his office, making it all the way to the parking garage before I’d shuffle back to his desk and grumble about the need to protect my company from him.

  But, worse of all, Cameron loved how my body responded to him.

  I melted for him every time he touched me.

  Moaned his name whenever he’d kiss me.

  And I’d come and come again for him as many times as he desired, even if he took me only to prove how willingly I surrendered to his command.

  And now?

  I was pregnant with his baby.

  Oh, this made a Monday morning even more intolerable.

  Cameron rattled a K-Cup box and tossed it at me. I was in no mood.

  “You’re expecting me to make you coffee?” I asked.

  “Call it an early morning perk.”

  “You can boss me around at the office, and I might listen—”

  “—Ha.”

  “—But in my own home? You’re on your own.”

  Cameron slid the eggs out of the pan and offered me a fork. The man was smarter than I gave him credit for. He rescinded the offer before I grabbed the utensil and perforated his skull.

  “You know…” He took a big bite of his breakfast with a satisfied smile. “That defiance of yours is becoming endearing.”

  “Then why do you keep calling me a brat?”

  “Because you are a brat,” he said. “But it’s an act, and I’m starting to learn about the real Mackenza and all her secrets.”

  I bumped the kitchen island, flinching as the plastic tests cracked against the marble. Another slipped down my pantleg but didn’t completely escape.

  “Believe me…” I crossed my ankle as best I could to keep it in place. “You don’t know all my secrets yet.”

  “I’d like to learn them.”

  Somehow, I doubted he meant that.

  “Now, Cameron. Don’t go ruining good sex because you’ve decided to respect me.”

  “What if I’ve decided to like you?”

  I laughed. “Please—you hate me as much as I hate you.”

  “You don’t hate me.” He answered with such confidence I even questioned myself. “In fact…there are parts of me you really like.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  “Believe it or not, Kenza…I like spending time with you.”

  “You like spending your nights with me,” I said. “And, pretty soon, I bet you’ll regret sleeping with me as much as you did.”

  “It’s more than just sex.”

  I puffed a breath of air. “You don’t know how right you are, boss.”

  He lowered his empty plate to the sink, eying me with a cautious glance. “I’m right? That’s new.”

  “Savor it. I’m sure it doesn’t happen very often.”

  His laugh warmed the kitchen. I dreaded cracking any joke around the man—something about that baritone rumble always ended with me in his arms and my panties at my ankles.

  “Far be it from me to question your motivations…” Cameron said. “But fighting with you is the best thing that’s happened to me lately.”

  “That was definitely not my intent.”

  “It’s made me a better leader. Apparently, constant animosity is a good motivator for me to re-examine my decisions.”

  I liked the sound of that. “And are you second-guessing any? Like a particular sale of a certain company?”

  “No.” He shrugged. “But it’s a good practice, nevertheless.”

  I would’ve stormed away, but I couldn’t hide the bulges in my pants. What was worse—the man responsible for my sexual awakening thinking I suffered from the world’s worst hemorrhoids…or that I’d hoarded a pantleg full of prenatal surprises.

  “You’re refreshingly honest, Kenza,” Cameron said.

  I crinkled my nose. The irony was worse than the morning sickness. “Not so sure about that.”

  “Oh, you’ve never spoke a word of truth to me, but I know how you feel. Just like I know you can’t deny how much you wish I’d sweep you in my arms and drop you into bed so I could take you again and again.”

  “Well…” I motioned for him to hand me my water bottle. Figured it was time to drink up before I took one last test. “I’m hoping I can deny it for another three, maybe four months.”

  Cameron’s patience waned. His jaw set, stoic. Begging for my fingers to tease over his chiseled jaw dusted with a morning’s scruff.

  “Why won’t you admit that you enjoy your nights with me?” he asked.

  Easy. “Because I am all too aware of the consequences of such pleasures.”

  “Damn the consequences.”

  I dodged his outstretched hand. “Oh, I don’t think we can do that.”

  The man only had to touch me. His hands settled around my waist, and my skin prickled with a flush of heat so intense it burned away my resistance.

  The only way I’d peel myself away from him was if my stomach threatened to creep any higher into my throat.

  Projectile vomiting was a perfect way to shut down any meaningful, emotional conversation.

  “Let’s change the subject,” I whispered.

  His lips brushed my forehead. “Why?”

  “Because I can’t insult a man before he’s finished his breakfast.”

  “How would that be different from any other day?”

  Oh, because after today every day
was going to be very, very different.

  “You won’t like what I have to say,” I warned.

  “Then maybe you should shut up instead.”

  Bad idea to start a fight with a woman before seven AM, especially when said woman spent the night on the bathroom floor heaving her guts out because of the late-night surprise he’d created.

  “Sounds crazy, huh?” Cameron forced me to meet his gaze. “But maybe, just this once, you can listen to me, because this is something you need to hear.”

  “All I need to hear is the sound of the door slamming behind you.”

  He swore. “Fuck me, Mackenza. You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. You frustrate me. You annoy the piss out of me. And when I’m at work, it takes every reserve of my strength to not haul you over my shoulder, toss your ass in the hall, and lock the door to my office behind me.”

  “That is the greatest compliment you’ve ever given me.”

  “But I can’t stop thinking about you,” he growled. “Every morning I reach for you. At night, I can’t sleep without you in my arms. I crave your every word—even if you’d rather lie to my face and insult me than admit that you want me too.”

  I stayed silent not to spite him, but because I wasn’t sure how to react, think, breathe when he spat such wonderful, terrible words at my feet.

  Except I knew better than to believe him.

  “You’re a man who gets what he wants,” I said. “And what you don’t get immediately becomes your obsession. You don’t want me, Cameron. You want me to fight you and insult you and make your life harder. It’s all about the challenge.”

  “It’s more than that.”

  It couldn’t be. “What’s been your longest relationship? A month? Two? You switch women quicker than you switch industries—and even that’s too fast.”

  “But I’m enjoying this. Us. Together. And I know you do too. You don’t want to end this.” Cameron spoke with the confidence of a man who had all the money in the world to buy whatever he wanted, and all the charisma he needed to steal whatever the world had hoped to keep for itself. “Come away with me.”

  I laughed. “Oh, you’ve come quite enough.”

  “Vegas. Bali. Hell, Kenza, I’ll buy you a whole goddamned island if it means I can have another night alone with you. Just the two of us.”

  The two of us.

  Well, that would certainly complicate his romantic adventures.

  And yet…I still considered his offer.

  At work, Cameron was an insufferable tyrant, determined to ruin the company that should’ve been mine.

  But at night?

  I admired too much about him. His determination. His accomplishments. The man feared no risk, and he’d conquered the entire world.

  It’d been too easy to fall for him.

  Especially since he was not the right man for me.

  And, despite his heartfelt words, I was certain he didn’t believe it either.

  And there was no reason for me to even hope for something other than to become a momentary obsession for a man who searched endlessly for newer and bigger distractions.

  “Tell you what,” I said. “You head to the island. I’ll handle the board meeting today. As a matter of fact…” I pointed toward the garment bags he’d dragged into my penthouse. “Are those my apparel samples?”

  Cameron stepped out of swinging distance.

  Uh-oh. Something had gone awry.

  He offered me a bag. “Have a look. One of them is for you.”

  I sincerely hoped pregnancy wouldn’t change me enough to need one of my senior bustiers—especially after Cameron had labeled the line his Matron Moneymakers.

  I dropped the bags and scowled at the disgraceful scraps of clothing left on the hangers.

  Three different styles of lingerie—each more vulgar the last.

  One red, one black, and one cream.

  “I was right…” Cameron smirked. “The cream will look good on you.”

  “Don’t even joke.”

  “Until it goes into production, that’s a one-of-a-kind. Wouldn’t you want to be the only woman in the world wearing something so beautiful?”

  Yes.

  And absolutely not.

  “Tell you what…” I flicked my finger off a bedazzled jewel in the center of the corset. “Why don’t you model it for me. If I like it, then we’ll talk.”

  “Not sure I can get in those panties as easy as I got into yours.”

  “And if you want to get in them again, you’ll behave.”

  “And unless you want to give me a show this morning, pack those up. You’re taking them to the meeting today.”

  He never ceased to surprise me.

  Apparently, Cameron had developed an amazing cure for morning sickness.

  Rage.

  “You’re showing lingerie?” I asked. “But today is my presentation for the classic line.”

  Cameron grabbed his grocery tote and pulled out a pack of sausage and a box of pancake mix.

  If he wasn’t careful, I’d sheath his spatula in his own damned griddle.

  “What would you really show them, Kenza?” he asked. “Introducing our new panty line—same as the old, but now the oversized granny panties come in off-white as well.”

  “They’re silver.”

  “The board called me. They’re eager to approve the lingerie today—moves up production an entire quarter. They wanted to see what I had available.”

  “What will they possibly see? There’s more skin than fabric.”

  He winked. “Exactly.”

  Oh, I wasn’t letting this go without a fight.

  “I worked all night on my presentation.” Mostly. “What will happen to my classic line?”

  “They’ll bump it. Delay the launch.”

  After all the work I’d put in on the project?

  “Fix this, Cameron.” I gritted my teeth. “Or get out of my penthouse and never come back.”

  The sausage started to sizzle, and I shimmied further away from the stove.

  “Sex sells,” he said. “The filthier and dirtier the better. You should know. I just offered to buy you a fucking island.”

  “I don’t want an island—I want to do my presentation as scheduled.”

  He sighed, and night-time Cameron disappeared, summoning the return of the office bastard.

  “Here’s what I expect of you,” he said. “First, no complaints.”

  “Screw you.”

  “Go to the office and get my appointment book. Inside, you’ll see a listing of the preparations for today. I want you to confirm the appointments for the hair-dresser, makeup artist, and models.”

  Because the only way I could imagine a worse day than being sick, insulted, and unexpectedly pregnant was if I added lingerie models to my morning meetings.

  Cameron read my expression, but he didn’t apologize. “Look, what better way to introduce our lingerie line to the Board than by showcasing the samples on living, breathing models.”

  “This isn’t about business—this is about making the Board drool so they’ll do whatever you want.”

  “And it’s your job to make them droolable,” he said. “Work with the stylists and get them whatever they need to prepare the models.”

  “You expect me to help?”

  “You work for me.” His eyes darkened with mischief. “You have no problem following my orders at night. Why does it change in the office?”

  He flipped the sausage, and the scent plumed across the kitchen.

  One sniff, and my stomach heaved. Fortunately, my empty tummy had nothing else to give. Cameron frowned.

  “Let me get you a drink.” He scoured the countertops for a glass, moving aside a cookie tin that had served as my dinner the night before.

  One lone pregnancy test rested next to the tin.

  I dove for the counter, grabbing the test before Cameron did.

  I panicked.

  Considered throwing it.

  Cons
idered throwing him out of my home.

  Instead, I froze, weighed my options, and chose the worst of my ideas.

  I plunged the end of the test into my mouth and winced as Cameron glanced at me.

  “Thermometer?” he asked.

  Oh.

  God.

  For the first time in my life, I could sincerely say a lie tasted terrible.

  Oh, this sort of behavior only belonged in the deepest, darkest corners of the internet. And I wasn’t even getting paid for it.

  I waved him away and escaped toward the bathroom as best I could with the other pregnancy tests down my pants.

  The door slammed behind me, and I spat the test into the sink.

  My reflection wasn’t very proud of me. I sneered at her.

  “Yeah, well, you wanted to go into fashion…” I grabbed my toothbrush and squirted half of the tube of toothpaste onto the bristles. “You could’ve gone into science and created a pregnancy test that the man peed on…”

  Cameron called from the kitchen as I brushed my teeth. “I can’t think of anything that tastes worse than peppermint and breakfast sausage.”

  “You’d be surprised…” I muttered.

  I stared at my reflection, considering my options.

  I could give up, surrender the company to Cameron, and destroy the only future I’d ever imagined for myself.

  I could fight, alienate myself from Cameron, and ruin the future that now bound us together with ten little fingers and ten tiny toes.

  Or, I could pull myself up and remember that I was Mackenza Maxwell.

  And I was about to go commando on the world-renowned Panty King.

  I returned to the living room, beaming a smile that promptly made Cameron lose his appetite. His fork lowered.

  “Why do I think I’m about to regret whatever it is you’re going to do?” he asked.

  “You were right,” I said. “And I’ve finally recognized the brilliance of Cameron Mitchell.”

  He swore. “Fuck me. What are you talking about?”

  “The board wants to see the lingerie you’ve commissioned.” Simple enough. I’d deliver on that demand. “Never let it be said I didn’t learn something from my genius boss. I’m going to get ready for work, Mr. Mitchell. Leave the show to me.”

  I owed a lot to Cameron.

  Sure, he might have taught me how to get naughty in the bedroom.

  And he had demonstrated all the best and wildest pleasures my own body could endure.