The Billionaire Series Collection

by Lila Monroe

  He fixed me with his gaze, and it was like a telescope zooming in on me from miles away, the whole rest of the world disappearing to him, and to me. “It matters a great deal,” he said. “I want to know more about you. Everything, in fact.”

  Well, that made an amount of sense that was about zero. Grant Devlin, wanting to know more about a lowly admin assistant? I’d seen Saturday morning cartoons that were more believable. I threw up my hands in exasperation. “Why?”

  He looked away abruptly, his face closing off. He fiddled with his fork. “Why not? You’re a dedicated employee.”

  “So’s Moneypenny, and James Bond never takes her out to lunch.”

  He gave a real smile at that, wider and more sincere than any I’d ever seen on his face before, and turned back to me. “What a revealing metaphor, Lacey. Tell me—do you watch many James Bond movies?

  And that was how the rest of the meal went—no matter how I tried to turn it around, he just came up with question after question about me, and eventually, I stopped trying not to answer. All of us want to talk about ourselves sometimes, and the fact that the guy doing the asking in this case looked like he’d stepped off the cover of GQ was certainly not making this any less like catnip for my ego.

  I kept waiting for the catch, but he seemed really interested in everything I had to say—not just the important stuff like my ideas for the company, but silly little things like yes, I had watched every single James Bond movie, but I preferred its predecessor, the 1960s Avengers with Steed and Mrs. Peel. Or that my favorite course in college had been Ethics in Modern Capitalism, followed closely by Drawing I. Or that I used to play dress-up as a kid, pretending I was a princess invited to the ball, or a fairy warrior queen presiding over my court.

  (Yeah, I couldn’t believe I let that last one slip either. If he ever brought that up around anyone else, I was going to deck him. And then deny everything. And then hopefully be swallowed up by the earth underneath me before anyone could laugh.)

  No matter what banality I came back with, he listened to me natter on with an intensity that actually started to freak me out—the sympathetic nods, the wide eyes, the encouraging questions…this was starting to feel a little bit, just a little bit, obviously not more than a little bit, like a—

  No. No no no no no. I was not even going to think the word ‘date.’ I didn’t know what the hell it was, but it was not a date; Grant Devlin didn’t go on dates with people like me! Dammit, self, stop thinking about dates. That way lay madness.

  In the middle of dessert—glass dishes of mango sorbet garnished with mint, plates of fried bananas hot from the stove and topped with whipped cream and chocolate, bowls of sweet sticky rice balls topped with slices of tropical fruit—I happened to glance at my watch, and my heart stopped. “Oh, fuck me!”

  Grant smirked. “Not very ladylike, Lacey.”

  “We’ve been here an hour and half! Jacinda is going to have my head.”

  Grant waved his hand, dismissive. “I’ll explain it to her—”

  “She will literally kill me.”

  “I believe you mean figuratively—”

  “No, I mean literally!” I snapped, my heart pounding against my ribcage like a drum. “She will literally cut off my head and put it on a pike and stick up a sign that says ‘Admin Assistant Needed’ in front of it written in my blood and spinal fluid and whatever else is going to squirt out when she literally kills me.”

  My mouth was running a mile a minute, way too fast, these weren’t the kind of things you said to your boss! But I was panicking, the whole world starting to spin as I realized how much trouble I was going to be in; she could fire me! No job, no chance of getting another one without a reference, I’d have to move back home with my parents—

  I stood up quickly.

  Too quickly, as it turned out. My open purse fell off my lap, scattering small change, lipstick, and Tylenol across the marble floor with a clatter that got the attention of every single person in the restaurant.

  My stomach dropped down to my shoes, and I felt the tears begin to well up in my eyes. It was all over. I’d fucked this up too.

  And then Grant’s hand was on my shoulder, warm, firm, comforting. “Don’t worry. Take your time. I’ll pay the bill, and walk you back.”

  I rounded the corner into Jacinda’s office before Grant, and nearly ran right into her, her mouth open the very second she saw me. She sucked in a deep breath like a vacuum cleaner and let loose with a scream that would have done a steam locomotive proud.

  “Where the hell have you been? I can’t even depend on you for one little thing, the one littlest thing I ask you to do, do you even have one brain cell in your head, even a complete fucking idiot like you—”

  “You’re fired.”

  Grant’s calm voice cut through the shrieks and dropped the room into deadly silence.

  Jacinda gaped at him like a goldfish. “Mr. Devlin. I—you—you can’t—”

  “If you speak to HR, I think you’ll find I can.” Grant sauntered into the room, and leveled a calm, contemptuous look at her, as if she were a bit of dirt he had discovered on the bottom of his shoe, inconvenient but easily removed. “Why don’t you run along and ask?”

  Jacinda wavered, clearly not sure whether to retreat to HR with her tail between her legs or protest.

  Grant sat down in her chair, leaning backwards and examining his fingernails as if he were bored beyond comprehension with the entire affair. “I suppose you could stay, and we could discuss the hostile workplace clause that allows us to reduce or eliminate your severance package…”

  Jacinda took off so fast I was surprised I didn’t see skid marks on the carpet, or hear a little ‘beep beep!’ Meanwhile, I was stunned, almost dizzy, bracing myself against the door in disbelief.

  When it came to Jacinda, I’d had more mental revenge films playing in my head than Quentin Tarantino had made in his entire life, but somehow, I never thought any of the things she deserved would happen to her. I never thought she’d have to face the consequences of her actions.

  I never thought someone would stand up for me.

  And I definitely never thought that someone would be Grant Devlin.

  “You…you really can’t do that.”

  Grant raised an eyebrow. “Can’t I? I was under the impression that this was my company.”

  “But—but what about all her work?” I protested weakly.

  “Consider this your promotion.”

  I gaped at him, and he just nodded, that infuriating sexy smirk playing around his lips. “Congratulations, Lacey.”

  Holy shit.

  6

  “To Lacey! Kicking ass and taking names! Woohoo!” Kate raised her margarita high, nearly tipping it into my lap in her jubilation. “Oops! Sorry. I’m just so excited for you, girl!”

  I had to practically shout to make myself heard over the raucous music of Kate’s latest favorite dive bar. “I’m not kicking ass! My ass is going to get kicked! How the hell did this happen?”

  I took a gulp of my own margarita and barely tasted it through my panic. “I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to screw up and I’m going to get fired and everyone is going to laugh at me and I’ll never get a job in this town again and I’ll have to move back in with my parents and I will die of embarrassment. Oh god. This isn’t happening.”

  “Hey!” Kate took hold of my shoulders and shook me gently. Well, as gently as she could judge with the amount of jubilation and alcohol currently in her system. Her red locks swayed violently with the clumsy motion. “That is my best friend you are talking about, and she is not going to screw up anything, because she is my best friend and I have a strict only-awesome-people-for-best-friends policy.” She tapped my chin, forcing me to look her in the eye. “Look, you’ve been doing Jacinda’s work for years, right?”

  I nodded tentatively.

  “So now you’re still doing her work, but you’re actually getting paid for it.” She sat back
triumphantly, the bright flashing lights of the nearby dance floor flickering on her face like victory fireworks. “That’s the only difference, girl. Now drink to it.”

  I took a deep breath, then a sip of the sweet margarita, and realized she was right. I hadn’t thought about it that way before, but it was totally true. I let out a long sigh of relief and felt my shoulders relax, the muscles of my neck un-tense.

  “Thanks, Kate. I guess I’m just weirded out by how fast it’s happening, you know? One second I’m the grunt nobody knows, and now I’m in charge of so much shit I might forget it all if I didn’t have a flow chart.” I felt my heart start to speed up again, anxiety trickling back into my system. “And what if Grant fires me as quick as he fired Jacinda? He’s on some sort of weird power trip or something, hiring and firing people like an emperor, and I don’t know if you’re totally caught up on Game of Thrones, but that shit does not end well. He has no idea what he’s doing! What good’s a promotion on a sinking ship?”

  “And you say I mix my references,” Kate said. She set down her drink on the scarred wooden countertop, fixing a no-nonsense expression on her face. It was tricky, since Kate’s normal expression is that of an eager Irish Setter puppy, but she managed it. “Look. Maybe it is a sinking ship. And you know what you do then? You use this as an opportunity to prove yourself. You do your best, and you document yourself doing your best, and if he does bring down the company you’ve got a kick-ass resumé that’ll make you welcome anywhere you go. Plus, you’ll know that after this, you’ll never have a tougher boss!”

  I thought about it.

  “You’re smart,” I admitted.

  “That’s why we’re friends,” Kate said. “Your wonderful powers of perception.”

  “I just feel so selfish, though,” I mused. I raised my hand quickly to forestall any objections. “I know, I know it’s irrational. It’s just—there are so many people there, they’ve worked there so long—what if I don’t know what I’m doing and I lose them their jobs? What if one of them would have done it better? I don’t want to hurt anybody.”

  “Hey, no jumping off the positivity train until it pulls into the station!” Kate said sternly, raising her margarita threateningly as if to tip it into my hair.

  “Okay, okay!” I held up my hands in surrender. “You’re right. You’re always right.”

  “Besides—” She waggled her eyebrows mischievously. “Even if the whole positivity train is doomed to a train wreck, he’s a sexy train wreck, right?”

  I raised my eyebrow. “Does Stevie know you’re lusting after the boss?”

  “Girl, I’m taken, not blind.”

  “Okay, he is pretty hot,” I admitted grudgingly.

  “Just pretty hot?” my skeptical friend pushed.

  “Okay, very hot!” I said. “He is the hottest. He is so hot he is basically a volcano. It should be illegal the amount of hotness he generates, with the ripped arms and the shoulders and those eyes and you can stop giving me that look right now, Kate, it’s not like I’ve got a lot to compare him to, lately.”

  “Jason?” she asked hopefully. “Come on, he wasn’t a complete bust, was he? He came highly recommended!”

  “Cute at best, until he opened his mouth,” I said. “Grant’s smart underneath all that playboy bullshit, which is actually really hot too. It’s just too bad he’s shallow as a water fountain.”

  “No disembarking from the positivity train, missy!” Kate pulled some pictures out of her purse, and pushed them across the table to me. “Here, this’ll cheer you up. Take a look at these new designs of mine.”

  Kate is a genius with lingerie design. I never even imagined that was a thing before I met her—you’ve seen one pair of lacy silk panties, you’ve seen them all, right?—but I’m serious, she was a genius and I was pretty sure someday she was going to be famous.

  This latest batch of designs was no exception in showcasing her talent: strips of boldly colored fabric that titillated but didn’t quite reveal, glossy textures that promised smoothness and sleekness, bows and lace that teased at lust with a just a hint of innocence…

  “These are gorgeous.”

  Kate grinned, delighted. “Glad you think so! You choose whatever you want and I’ll whip it up for you for when you get your next date.”

  “I wish I had someone worth these designs,” I said. “I know I say this all the time, but you do know you’re a genius, right?”

  Kate snorted. “If I’m such a genius, listen to my advice!”

  So I did. It wasn’t easy at first, but as the night wore on, laughing and joking with Kate—and eventually Stevie and his friends when they showed up—it got easier. I remember, later that evening, looking up at the stars as we waited for a taxi, my heels in my hand and my mind clear as I suddenly realized, you know what? I really believed I could do this.

  That was the moment when I made up my mind. I was going to give this promotion a shot. No, scratch that—I was going to give this promotion my best shot.

  And maybe, just maybe, now that I had a little control, people would listen to me and I could help save the company.

  7

  I strode into the boardroom, feeling confident in the power suit that Kate had persuaded me to buy after happy hour, and secretly sexy in the lingerie she had pressed on me “until you make up your mind about the new designs,” loving the way it hugged my ample curves. My heels—another Kate order masquerading as a friendly suggestion—lifted me up and made me feel invincible, like I could take on the world.

  Watch out, boys, there’s a new superhero in town.

  I faced down the conference table full of department heads, Grant at the end, and refused to let my stomach do the slow flip it wanted to.

  “We need a complete image rehabilitation,” I said crisply, clicking on the PowerPoint, “and I have a plan that will get us there.” I looked directly at Grant, square in the eye: “You show up to work every day, no partying, no girls. You complete one staged charity photo op every day.” I slapped a stack of papers down on the table. “This is your schedule. Your first event is right now.”

  He opened his mouth to protest, and I steamrolled right over him. “You are going to go pet some kittens with cancer, and you are going to look happy about it for the camera.”

  “I can’t just cancel—” he started.

  “Kittens,” I repeated firmly. “With cancer.”

  The rest of the table was holding their breath waiting to see if Grant was going to be enough of a dick to say no. He glanced around at them, looking for support that he didn’t find, and then back to me.

  It’s just—” he began, not quite whining, though the tone was dangerously close.

  “Your driver’s waiting to pick you up right now. Cliff will escort you there. Cliff?” I called, and Grant’s bodyguard came in, still holding the coffee I’d bought him earlier that morning during our little chat. I gave him a grateful smile. “You’ll make sure Mr. Devlin gets to those kittens, won’t you?”

  “Sure will, ma’am.” He stood just a little closer to Grant than he had to, just to reinforce the message. Grant looked from me to him, and back to me again, and then nodded.

  Message received.

  I watched Cliff very diplomatically hustle Grant out, and smiled, victorious.

  Cliff was a very loyal employee to Grant Devlin, but he also happened to be the owner of seven rescue cats, and a volunteer at the local no-kill cat shelter. Just one of the many things you can learn about someone when you take them out for coffee and a frank chat about the future of the company.

  Step one had just gone off without a hitch.

  Now I just had several dozen more steps to go.

  It was afternoon that same day, and for all that things seemed to be going well, they also seemed like they could fall apart any minute. I had a million people to call about rescheduling meetings, a million personal thank you e-mails to send to my allies in the conference room this morning, a million networking opportunities
to sort through and decide which would best advance Devlin Media Corp’s agenda and mission.

  Not to mention the fact that I still had to hire an assistant to do my old job, and until that time, guess who was doing my old job too? A very reliable but overworked trio I liked to call me, myself, and I.

  Still, there was something so exhilarating about taking the bull by the horns. Win or lose, no one was going to say I hadn’t tried my hardest, and that felt damn good. It was a big fat ‘take that!’ at Jacinda, at the snobby rich kids in college, at the whole damn universe, and it lit up my veins with fire and adrenaline.

  “Hello, Lacey.”

  I looked up, startled, and my breath caught in my throat. Grant was leaning against my doorway so sexily it should have been a crime warranting life imprisonment or maybe just some temporary imprisonment in fuzzy handcuffs (nope, I was definitely not picturing him in fuzzy handcuffs, or me)

  He must have changed outfits for the photo op, and damn, he looked good. A well-tailored black suit that hugged his shoulders and his arms, a slate grey tie that made his eyes look like a stormy sea with secrets and treasures lurking beneath.

  Somehow he hadn’t found time during that wardrobe change to shave, because why shave when you can just look ruggedly handsome all the damn time?

  I looked away quickly before he could see my reaction. “How were the kittens?” I asked.

  “Furry.” I looked back at the tone of his voice; he made a face and picked a white hair off his cuff as if it might bite him. “And they shed. Quite a bit. I think it may have gotten into the weave of the fabric permanently.”

  “I’m sure you have other suits you can wear.”

  “Not here.” He began to unbutton his suit jacket leisurely, sliding it off his shoulders. “So many people are allergic to cat hair. It’d be inconsiderate to keep this on while I’m at work.”