Marrying My Billionaire Boss

by Lee, Nadia

  When we’re halfway to the office, Nate’s personal cell phone rings.

  The Bluetooth speakers say, “Barron Sterling.”

  Geez! Did he somehow sense I was trying to get rid of his statue?

  “Speak of the devil.” Nate grins. “Must be calling to check up on his gift.”

  I shake my head at his irreverent tone. I’m sure Barron has better things to do worry about a bunch of twisted metal. Doesn’t he?

  “Yes, Barron?” Nate says cheerfully.

  “What the hell is going on with the news these days?” a thunderous voice booms.

  No greeting or anything warm. Grouchy. And will definitely demand prostration if we ever meet in person.

  “I don’t know, but I’m sure it didn’t impact Sterling & Wilson,” Nate says. “Or at least Justin will have done something to minimize its effect on the busi—”

  “Not Justin. You! The gossip rags are claiming that Elizabeth’s auction is a sham!”

  That’s a strong accusation, especially against someone like her.

  Nate’s jaw tightens. “Fuckers. What are they saying?”

  “Well, you should know. You’re the one they’re talking about!”

  Bewilderment crosses Nate’s face. “Me? How—”

  “And your friend, that Court boy, didn’t help matters by getting auctioned off for fifty bucks!” Barron continues. “Highly irregular, when there were women who bid more.”

  “Well, yeah, but he had his reasons,” Nate says.

  “Oh, yes. Reasons. Much like Ted Bundy, I suppose. And then,” Barron continues, “you got auctioned off to your assistant for half a million dollars!”

  Oh, shit. Is that what this is about? Am I in trouble with Nate’s great-uncle?

  “I thought that was the least the Sterling name deserved.” Nate’s tone is entirely too droll. “Did you want her to bid higher to preserve our repu—”

  “This is a serious matter! Donations are falling off, and some people are starting to question Elizabeth’s ethics!”

  “Oh.” For once, Nate looks slightly chastised.

  “Now, did you take your assistant on that date?” Barron asks ominously.

  Nate’s gaze slides toward me. “Uh, no… Not yet.”

  I give him a smile that I hope is supportive and reassuring. I don’t need a date with him. As a matter of fact, I don’t want a date with him.

  “Nathan,” Barron says gravely. “People are placing bets. They’re saying Elizabeth’s auctions are rigged, all the big bidding is just a publicity stunt and that you aren’t going to follow through on your proposed date.”

  “Oh, come on!” Nate says, shoving a hand into his hair. I have to agree.

  “I’m very fond of Elizabeth. You’ll have to fix this for her.”

  “I’ll have a chat with Ken Honishi,” Nate says.

  I make a note on the tablet to arrange for a call with the Sterlings’ retainer as soon as possible.

  “That won’t be enough.” Barron’s tone is cool. “So it’s true you had your assistant bid on you. Don’t tell me you didn’t.”

  “Fine. I won’t,” Nate mutters.

  And I won’t either. I don’t think I can lie to the man, even over the phone. There’s something about the crackling authority in his tone that’s cowing.

  “And you haven’t had the date yet,” Barron states.

  “No.” Nate steals another glance in my direction. “The fact is we didn’t plan to.”

  Yes. Exactly. The whole thing was over and done with the moment I saved my boss from his mink-bikini-wearing stalker maniac.

  “Well, change your plans. Follow through on that date, and make sure you appear together in public, where people will see you.” There’s a tone of hard-edged command that makes me shiver.

  “Barron, we—”

  “I trust it’ll be taken care of by Monday.” Barron doesn’t bother to add “or else.”

  The line dies.

  Chapter Twelve

  Nate

  Evie is stunned into speechlessness. I’m pretty stunned, too, even though I manage to get us to the office without having an accident. I didn’t realize Elizabeth’s foundation has been under attack. Shit. She’s a good friend, and I should’ve been more aware, especially since I’m at least partially responsible.

  But who the hell is attacking her? Although it isn’t what Barron asked for, I should have Ken sue every single one of those fucking tabloid scribblers.

  I cut through the Sterling & Wilson lobby, my strides eating up the ground. Evie has to trot to keep up, her trusty tablet held tightly to her chest like a shield. I don’t blame her. Everyone feels this way after dealing with Barron. Even I’m not one hundred percent immune, and I grew up around him.

  “Ms. Parker, see what Ken’s schedule looks like today.”

  “Yes, Mr. Sterling.” She nods and immediately starts working at her station once we arrive at my office.

  The second I’m seated at my desk, I call Elizabeth. “I hear you’re having problems,” I say when she picks up. “You should’ve said something.”

  “Well, hi. Thomas was a little fussy last night, but I didn’t realize you were so interested.”

  I grind my teeth. It’s so like her to act strong and unperturbed, no matter what happens. As much as I admire that quality, right now, it’s really irritating. “You know what I mean.”

  “Actually, no. You have to be more specific.”

  “People are saying shit about the auction.”

  “Oh, that?” She laughs softly. “Amusing, isn’t it?”

  “You’re amused?” Is she deliberately doing this to make me feel silly for being this upset on her behalf?

  “It’s just people who lost out on their bidding being petty. It’ll blow over.”

  “But it’s your family’s reputation.” And as dysfunctional as her family can be, they take their reputation seriously.

  “Nate, if I got worked up every time somebody said something about me or the causes we champion, I’d never get anything done.”

  “But nobody says shit about you!”

  “Not openly, but that doesn’t mean they don’t say it. Trust me. I hear things.”

  Or maybe it’s her assistant who hears shit and passes it on. That man is an unfeeling freak. “Okay, well, don’t worry. Barron’s on it, and so am I.”

  “Barron really shouldn’t bother himself,” she says mildly. “He should enjoy his retirement.”

  I snort. “He’s never going to really retire. I bet he gets reports on how each little part of his empire is doing every morning, so he can read them over with his Earl Grey and sugar cookies.” And if he didn’t, I’d be worried and send a doctor to check him over.

  “Be that as it may, please don’t feel that you have to do something. It’s my problem, and I can fix it. But thanks for your support anyway.” Her voice is warm and full of sweetness.

  We end the call, but somehow I actually feel worse. It really isn’t her problem. It’s mine because I rigged things to avoid being won by Georgette. Otherwise I would’ve just let somebody win me, then suffered through the date for a good cause.

  I eye Evie’s shadow on the other side of the frosted glass wall. She heard Barron, and she’s probably amenable. If not because she’s afraid of Barron, then because she cares about Elizabeth’s cause.

  There’s really only one course left for us to take: go through with the date. That’s the fastest and surest way to shut people up.

  I hit the button on my desk. “Ms. Parker, a moment, please.”

  She walks in, carrying her tablet. “Ken is set to speak with you today at three. That’s the earliest he can manage.”

  “Okay. But we need to talk about us.”

  “Um…us?”

  “The date. We kind of have to do it.”

  She clears her throat. “I see. Okay.” She worries her lip, then firms her mouth like she’s come to a decision. “Do you want me to make a reservation at a restau
rant? I’m pretty sure I can manage one at someplace exclusive either today or tomorrow. The kind of place a half-million-dollar bachelor would take his winner.”

  Oh, Evie, Evie. She obviously doesn’t realize we actually have to stick to the date I proposed, not this eating-out thing she prefers. “No. You need to go home and pack for an overnight trip.”

  “Excuse me?” She looks at me like I just asked her to strip naked and do a backflip.

  “We’re flying to Vegas.”

  “Vegas? There are plenty of acceptable restaurants in L.A.”

  “I agree, but we can’t do that to quiet the gossip. We have to go to Vegas.”

  She takes a quarter of a step backward, her cornflower-blue eyes full of wariness. “And then…what? Gamble? That’s not really romantic, if you ask me.”

  I stare at her. Why is she asking these ridiculous questions? She’s normally sharper than this. “Obviously not. Everyone’s expecting us to stay at the biggest suite imaginable. To follow the plan.”

  “Okay…”

  A sudden possibility crosses my mind. No. Freaking. Way. Everyone knows what the date is supposed to be. Vanessa knew, and she wasn’t even going to the damned auction. But the way Evie’s reacting… “Ms. Parker, did you see what I proposed for the winner’s date?”

  “I didn’t even know there was a ‘proposed date.’ I thought the bachelor and his winner would decide together.”

  “That’s not how the auction worked. The bachelors came with a preplanned date for whoever won them. It was printed on the programs.”

  She thinks for a moment, then shrugs. “Sorry, but I didn’t bother to check. I was running late.”

  I lean back in my seat. I hate to have to spring it on her like this, but I also can’t wait to see how she’ll react when she finds out. Is she going to be scandalized? Maybe even shocked enough to call me Nate again? I didn’t miss the way she used my name after the auction, when she thought I was about to keel over from alcohol poisoning.

  I force my expression into utter somberness. “Ms. Parker, the plan is to fly to Las Vegas on my private jet. And then we’re going to have a drunken orgy.”

  She sputters, then starts coughing hard into her hand. I rise to pat her back, but she pushes the tablet out like a shield to fend me off.

  Wheezing, she finally stands straight. Her face is red, and there are little beads of tears around her eyes. “We’re going to what?”

  So I’ve finally shaken her composure. “We’re going to Vegas, on my jet.”

  “Yeah, yeah, the other part. A drunken orgy?” She shakes her head. “That’s a terrible joke. It’s not funny.”

  “It’s not a joke.” I ready myself to catch her in case she faints…or jump back fast if she decides to punish me by throwing up on my shoes.

  She gives me a look sharp enough to cut, then swipes her tablet and taps away. Finally she finds whatever she’s looking for and inhales sharply. “Oh my God. I can’t believe you actually made that your plan! Why were people even bidding on you?”

  “Because I’m really good at orgies?”

  Her face turns red. Probably out of annoyance or a murderous rage, because she isn’t laughing. I’m probably safe from murder, though. She needs me to pay her.

  “I’m not going to be part of this idiocy,” she says finally.

  “But you won me,” I point out, secretly amused and pleased that her main objection is to the orgy, not the rest of the date. Does this mean the invulnerable Ms. Parker is softening toward me?

  “Only because you asked me to help! What was I thinking? And what were you thinking? A drunken orgy, when you can barely stand up after three drinks?”

  It takes all my willpower to keep my mouth shut. It isn’t her fault she thinks I’m a lightweight. I sort of misled her into thinking that when she first started working for me. I was trying to figure out how she really felt about me and pretended to be out of it with alcohol so she could openly share how she felt.

  Unfortunately, she didn’t. The woman’s harder to crack than a bank vault.

  “That’s why you need to be there to keep an eye on me.” I smile. “I’ll double your bonus.” There. I’m not entirely unreasonable. “And I’ll give you overtime pay for the Vegas trip.”

  Her face is pinched. I see a very large no being placed into a catapult, ready to be hurled in my direction.

  My ego twitches as her impending rejection prickles. Women love me. They spend money to be with me. But here’s Evie, who’s actually pissed off that she has to spend the weekend in my presence in Vegas! Which I’m going to pay for!

  She inhales harshly. “Okay, I might be out of line here, but we shouldn’t have to jump just because Barron said so.”

  “Yeah. But believe me, it’s better to jump now than have him show up in person.” The old man is much more difficult to reason with face to face. Especially when he sets his mind on something. He doesn’t understand why everything he wants didn’t fall into his lap yesterday. “Unless you want to tell him you’re the reason we aren’t going to Vegas like he asked us to?”

  Are you fucking kidding me? is etched on her face. “But he probably doesn’t know about the date plan. I mean, the details… Right?”

  “I wouldn’t bet on that. He probably knows everything.” You don’t become rich and powerful by lacking information.

  She levels an accusing finger at me, her eyes narrow. “You did this on purpose.”

  “I didn’t know that Georgette was—”

  “There will be no orgy, drunken or otherwise.”

  “Okay.” It’s an easy point to give up. I don’t even really want an orgy. I want the eminently adorable Ms. Evie Parker.

  “And I want my own room.”

  “That won’t do. It’s supposed to be a date, remember? Who gets two rooms?” And why would I want her to have her own room anyway?

  Her eyes go into slits. “You owe me triple the bonus!”

  Ha, she’s giving in. “Of course.” She’s selling herself short. She should’ve demanded ten times the bonus.

  “Along with hazard pay.”

  I throw my head back and laugh. She kills me. “Sure. Just pack an overnight bag. Despite what you think, we’re going to have fun tonight.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Evie

  “I don’t know why Barron asked us to do it. Or why Nate feels like he has to do exactly what Barron said when we could just go out to dinner and be done with it,” I complain loudly as I pack a bag for the overnight trip to Vegas.

  Kim’s voice is tinny on the phone speaker. She’s still in the office. “Because it’s Barron who asked. You do not say no to that man. Unless you want to end up worse than dead.”

  “What could be worse than dead?” I demand, my mouth going slightly dry.

  “I don’t know. But I kind of want to find out, so why don’t you just ignore him and see what happens?” Kim’s tone is half serious, half sarcastic.

  “An orgy! Nate proposed a drunken orgy!” I wave my arms around in frustration and outrage even though Kim can’t see me.

  “Thankfully, Barron won’t ask about that. Not even he wants to know about his grand-nephew’s sex habits.”

  “Oh, stop. I’m going to throw up.”

  “You don’t have to have sex, Evie. Although you could take one for the team if you feel up for it.”

  Yes, Evie. Take one for the team. All indications are that Nate can give you a great orgasm or twenty. Just look how the man’s built.

  Stop agreeing with Kim. “There’ll be no sex, drunken or otherwise. And no more dating. This is the first, last and only time I’m doing this. Ever.”

  “Uh-huh. Look, I have a meeting, so I gotta go. Just relax and enjoy the trip. Nate is a gentleman boss with a bangin’ body. Things could be worse.”

  Kim turns out to be right about that. It could be worse. And I realize that from every angle when I’m on Nate’s jet.

  Holy cow. I can see why Nate proposed flying o
n it to start the date off, even if he does plan to end it with an orgy. The thing is luxury defined. It has a bedroom with a real bed with a mattress—not chairs that morph into lie-flat “beds”—a shower with a dressing room and a lounge complete with a fully stocked bar. There’s a library and a swanky office where you can work. There are vases with fresh flowers, secured for takeoff and landing.

  The food isn’t just edible, but amazing. For the short flight to Vegas, we’re served champagne, pâté and caviar with freshly cut fruit, including some odd things I’ve never seen before called mangosteen. The white, juicy flesh inside the deep purple rind tastes like nothing like I’ve ever had. Nate casually mentions it costs about five bucks a bite, which promptly makes me choke.

  When he just chuckles, I decide he must’ve been messing with me. Who the hell pays five dollars a bite, anyway? Mangosteens taste amazing, but not “five dollars a bite” amazing.

  My unhelpful tongue disagrees.

  Once the snack service is over, Nate goes over some reports on his laptop while tapping his temple the entire time. The cabin attendant tries to ply him with alcohol, but I stop her, since alcohol is supposed to hit you faster at high altitudes.

  Since I don’t have anything to do, not even a meeting to rearrange before the weekend, I fiddle with my phone, then read Kim’s text again.

  There’s absolutely nothing to be done about it. If there were, I would’ve told you. It’s only one night. Think about the 3x bonus, hazard pay, plus overtime. Besides, people like Nate travel in style. You’ll be pampered and spoiled. Trust me.

  It’s true that the extra pay is something I can really use. People who say money doesn’t buy you happiness have obviously never been poor. Or else they have a rich relative or friend to bail them out.

  Mom already spent money she shouldn’t have to because she knew I had to leave Dillington after the disaster with Chad. I can pay her back by being successful, and part of that is being financially secure.