by Madison Faye
Warning: This book is HOT. It's really dirty, and it's really naughty, and it’s really going to melt your kindles (among other things…). Please know that this book is a MFMM romance, which is to say, it's all about her - no MM action.
This book is sort of a continuation of another book of mine - Twice Bossed, but, not really. It is a completely standalone story - you DO NOT have to have read Twice Bossed first, at all.
Copyright © 2016 Madison Faye
All rights reserved.
Editing: Sennah Tate
Cover: White Rabbit Creative
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for review purposes.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, actual events or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademark status of products referred to in this book and acknowledges that trademarks have been used without permission.
This book is intended for mature, adult audiences only. It contains extremely sexually explicit and graphic scenes and language which may be considered offensive by some readers. This book is strictly intended for those over the age of 18.
All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older. All acts of a sexual nature are completely consensual.
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1
The door to the garage slammed shut, startling me from the book I was reading at the dining room table. I’d heard the familiar sound of Jason’s car pulling into the garage a few minutes before, followed by the familiar sound of the automatic garage door grinding back down. But the fury in the door-slam and the mutterings down the hall told me something was up.
It also told me he was drunk.
I sighed and dropped the book to the table, rubbing my temples. I glared at the time and at then at the dinner I’d made, now sitting cold on the table.
“Everything alright, honey?”
“It’s fine,” came the sharp response from the hallway, followed by my boyfriend’s stomping steps to the kitchen. Another sigh escaped me as I glanced down at the copy of Honing Your Resume I’d been paging through while waiting for him.
I wasn’t working these days, since Jason had insisted that it was his job to “provide” ever since we’d moved in together the month before. I’d gone along with it, because you do things you never thought you’d do when you think you love someone.
I wasn’t so sure of that after a month of playing second fiddle to Jason’s career — “career”, or rather, his propensity for going out to drinks after work and leaving me bored and stir-crazy back at home. I had a damn masters degree, for crying out loud, and here I was playing housewife all day while my boyfriend was out half the night getting wasted. I’d thought about getting back into the workforce, but the number of job offers I had before we moved in together dwindled, until there was nothing but an empty inbox waiting for me every day.
“The hell are you reading, Arianna?”
I glanced up to see Jason swaying in the doorway, holding a fresh beer from the fridge and reeking of whiskey even from across the room. My eyes dropped to his collar, and suddenly my blood was boiling.
Lipstick.
There on his shirt collar, like the most ridiculous cliche out of a movie.
“Where were you,” I said evenly, ignoring his question.
“None of your damn business.”
I stood and felt my hands ball into fists at my sides, glaring at him.
“Well it is my business, actually, because I’ve been sitting here with dinner waiting for you.”
“Such a fuckin nag,” Jason muttered, swigging from his beer. My gaze moved from the lipstick on his collar to his messed-up hair, the smug look on his face, and I rolled my eyes.
I wasn’t even shocked at this point, just mad at myself for staying this long. Of course this was how this debacle of a relationship was going to end. The zero communication and all his secrets, the fact that he had all the time in the world to go out with “clients” but no time for me, and the fact that after three months of no sex or any intimacy at all, I was starved for some physical attention
And he came home with the lipstick of some other woman on his collar.
“Oh fuck you, Jason, you think you can just—”
The slap came hard, knocking the wind out of me and leaving a stinging heat across my cheek.
The room went silent and still for a second before I whirled back at him, hand on my cheek and my jaw dropped in shock.
“Are you fucking serious?”
Jason suddenly paled, as if suddenly sobering enough to see clearly.
“Shit, baby.” His eyes were wide and he shook his head.
“Baby, I’m just drunk is all,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry, baby, you know I lov—”
“Don’t.”
My voice was ice cutting through his words.
“Don’t even say that, Jason.”
Because that moment right there in that dining room was like a puzzle piece clicking into place. Right then, everything made sense.
“Actually,” I hissed, shaking my head at him. “Don’t ever say it to me again.”
I stormed off to our room before he could even say anything else. I grabbed a suitcase from the closet, half expecting him to run in and stop me, and not at all surprised when he didn’t. Five minutes later, I was stalking towards the front door with a suitcase rolling behind me.
Jason laughed when he saw me.
“You’re leaving?”
“Yeah,” I hissed, jabbing a finger at him as I snatched my resume book off the table. “Yeah Jason, I’m leaving.”
He laughed again.
“Over one little slap? Jesus.” He rolled his eyes and slugged his beer. “I bet I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“No, you won’t, asshole.”
He narrowed his eyes at me, sitting at the table and picking at the cold dinner I’d made.
“Bitch, yes I will.”
This time, I only flipped him off as I whirled and stormed away. I grinned wickedly seeing the keys to his Porsche laying on the table by the door to the garage.
Fuck him.
The engine roared triumphantly and I pulled out the garage. The front door to the house opened a second later as Jason recognized the sound of his prized car, but I only flipped him off out the window as I roared away, watching the image of him shaking his fist at me get smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror.
2
“I think you’ve got a great shot.”
I took a big gulp of my wine and raised a brow at Sasha.
I’d been staying with my friend for almost a week now, and while it was amazing to have such a great friend to take me in, I knew myself, and I knew I needed my independence. Luckily, I’d just landed a job interview for a secretary position.
“It’s just a secretary job, you know.”
My best friend — seven months pregnant — shrugged and grinned wickedly as she poured lime seltzer over ice and took a sip.
“You really want to go there?”
I blushed as I looked down, grinning.
Sasha had, after-all, started in this very position. Broke, looking for work, and leaving her asshole of an ex, Sasha had found “secretary” work with Stone and Steel Holdings.
Of cour
se, that’s not all she’d found there.
What started as probably the hottest, dirtiest, most inappropriate office fling in the history of workplace flings had turned into so much more. I knew just enough of the details to go red in the face whenever I thought too much about it.
Hey, you would too if your best friend was involved in a relationship with two gorgeous, protective, dominant men who had at one point been her bosses.
I say “used to be,” because as their relationship had bloomed into what it was now, Sasha had moved from secretary to actually co-running the biggest corporation in the city with Luke and Jordan
I could only imagine what board meetings were like.
People have all sorts of ideas in their heads about what a relationship should be, but Sasha, Luke, and Jordan proved them wrong. Was is nonconforming? A little different? Apt to make people blush and whisper in public when they noticed how close the three of them were? You bet. Did any of that trio really give much of a shit?
Nope.
“That was different,” I said primly, sipping my wine.
Sasha laughed. “Oh really? Why, because I slept with them?”
“Because they’re hot!”
I turned red the second I said it, rolling my eyes at myself as Sasha burst out laughing.
“Well? Maybe the guy running — what’s the name of this place?”
“Camelot Holdings.”
Sasha paused, furrowing her brow, looking like she was thinking it over before she shook her head.
“I’ve heard of the company but I know the CEO stays pretty private. Anyways, who knows? Maybe he’s gorgeous?”
“And maybe usually sleeping with your boss gets you fired.”
Sasha winked at me. “Gotta take chances, lady.”
“I gotta take employment, first,” I grumbled.
“You know I’ve got a job for you, right?” Sasha put down her soda water and gave me a look. “I mean, you don’t even have to ask; it’s done.”
I smiled as she reached out and squeezed my hand.
“Thanks, honestly. But you know that’s a little too close to home.”
“Too close to home, or too much for your A-type personality that just has to go find her own way?”
Sasha winked at me, laughing as I flipped her off playfully.
“Both,” I said, grinning. “It’s enough that you’re putting me up in the insane house, you know.”
When Sasha had first gotten together with Luke and Jordan, they’d all lived in the guys’ penthouse on the top floor of Stone and Steel Holdings. Eventually though, they’d moved out and into this sprawling, gorgeous place.
She grinned. “Hey, it’s not that selfless of me. I get lonely and spooked being in his place all alone while Luke and Jord are off in London.”
“How’re the acquisition negotiations going?”
She shrugged, waving her hand. “Oh, fine. You know them; they get what they want.”
I winked at her. “Apparently.”
“You’re a pessimist.” My friend sighed as I glanced over the job description again on the laptop in front of me.
“I’m a realist,” I said indignantly, sipping wine. “Why the heck would a secretary and personal assistant job that pays so well be up for grabs?”
“Well,” Sasha sighed. “Guess you’ll find out tomorrow at the interview, dummy.”
She was right. For all my bitching, I had landed a callback for an interview.
“I’m still grossed out by the headshot, you know.”
She smirked.
“How is that even legal?”
“Eh, there are loopholes. And hey, you’re cute.”
“I’m not a model or anything, though.”
She groaned. “Girl, you got the interview, didn’t you?”
I frowned and she laughed and poured me some more wine.
“Vicarious drinking,” she said with a wink as she pushed the glass towards me. “You want me to send a personal recommendation on Stone & Steel letterhead?”
I frowned and shook my head.
She sighed. “Didn’t think so. You are one stubborn girl, you know that?”
I grinned at her. “Yup. It’s why you love me though.”
“Luckily,” she snorted.
I turned back to the laptop. “The guy I’m reporting to is probably an old rich asshole.”
“Yeah, he probably is, Ari, but that rich asshole is going to pay you like you’re a Wall Street trader.”
“Yeah,” I mumbled, taking a sip from my glass.
“It’s gong to be fine.”
“I guess.”
I tried to take her words to heart, but I still slept fitfully that night. I tossed and turned half the night, wondering about my interview with the rich old asshole who’d hold my future in his hands.
3
Holy shit.
The foyer of Camelot Holdings was all steel and silver trim with rich, marbled mahogany wood finishes. I took a seat in the modern, yet deeply rich lobby with four other women, all quite pretty and dressed identically to me in shades of gray and black skirt suits and formal blouses.
I swallowed, feeling my pulse race. Why was I so nervous? Okay, it was a job interview — a job interview I needed pretty desperately. Yes, Sasha had made it quite clear that she had more than enough space, not to mention finances to basically have me stay with her, Luke, and Jordan indefinitely, but I knew I’d go nuts if I didn’t at least try to do something job-wise.
But I shouldn’t have been so nervous.
I glanced up at the silver-inlay lettering above the receptionist’s desk.
Camelot Holdings.
I rolled my eyes, imagining the old dork who thought that up.
A soft metallic clunk of a door made me glance back to the boss’s office besides the receptionist’s desk. A pretty, young woman about my age left the office looking flustered, breathless, and pink in the face.
She looked scared.
I swallowed.
“Ms. Holloway?”
I stared, blinking at the scared girl as she got into the elevator.
“Ms. Holloway?”
I blinked again and turned back.
“Yes?”
The older receptionist glared at me from her desk.
“They’ll see you now.”
A shiver ran up my back.
“They?”
She gave me an exasperated look.
“The bosses.”
I frowned.
Bosses? As in plural?
“Bosses?”
She all but rolled her eyes at me.
“Yes, dear. Mr. Black, Mr. Caldwell, and Mr. Harlow.” She frowned at me. “The men you’re interviewing with in order to personally assist, Ms. Holloway.”
I felt that shivering chill creep down my back again.
Jesus there were three of them? Three old assholes I was going to have to report to? God, no wonder the position paid so well!
“Can’t keep them waiting, dear,” she said thinly, gesturing at the door.
“Through there.”
I swallowed heavily as I rose and smoothed down my skirt and blouse before slowly stepping to the thick wooden door.
The long hallway past the door from the reception area was lowly lit and endless. My heels clicked loudly on the marble floor as I slowly made my way closer and closer to the office.
Their office — the office of Mr. Black, Mr. Caldwell, and Mr. Harlow, apparently.
I suddenly wished I’d done my homework a little better before coming to the interview.
“Enter.”
The deep voice resonated through the door as I knocked. I took one final breath before I placed my hand on the silvered knob, turned it, stepped into the room…
…And promptly almost tripped over my jaw.
I’d been picturing three stuffy, crotchety old men — three bent-over, grey-haired senior citizens with bifocals and walking canes.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.<
br />
The three men waiting for me in the room were simply gorgeous. Young, ruggedly handsome, built men. One stood by the window, the other leaned against a thick wooden desk facing the door, and the third sat to one side on a sofa with his feet up on a small coffee table. But all three of them stared right at me with intense, burning, hungry stares.
I swallowed again, feeling the heat pulse to my cheeks under their gaze.
“Close the door, Ms. Holloway,” the man leaning against the front of the desk murmured, his voice smooth like leather and dark wood.
I did as I was told, shivering as I shut myself into the room with these three intense men.
“Sit,” the man on the sofa said sharply, gesturing at a chair in the middle of the room between me and them. I nodded quickly and made my way to it, smoothing my skirt down nervously as I took a seat.
“You seem surprised,” the man by the window growled out, his sharp blue eyes flashing and only accentuated by the dark, slightly curled hair on his head.
The man leaning against the desk — blonde and also blue-eyed with a chiseled jawline — chuckled darkly, crossing his arms across his chest.
I took a shaky breath, and started to open my mouth when the dark-haired man on the sofa shook his head, holding a hand up.
“You aren’t the first woman we’ve met with today who was expecting to meet with perhaps somewhat older interviewers.” He smirked, his dark eyes flashing at me.
“We keep ourselves and our company out of the media light, Ms. Holloway. We prefer to keep things personal.” He purred the last word in a way that only warmed the flush in my cheeks more.
God, they’re so attractive.
I mentally admonished myself for the thought that crept into my head — well, that and the other highly unprofessional ones that followed involving the men in front of me. And yet, it couldn’t be helped. The men were stunningly good looking, in that unfair, biological way. They were attractive in that magnetic way that pulls at you on an evolutionary level, and they were certainly pulling at something deep inside of me.
