Bargaining with the Boss
Allison Gatta
Contents
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
Bargaining with the Billionaire, the third novel in the Honeybrook Love, Inc. Series
Afterword
About the Author
Also by Allison Gatta
For Steamier Reading, Check out these Erotic Titles from Allison Blane
Copyright
For Mom—You always believed I could do it, and even when it was awful, you thought it was amazing. I’m lucky to have such a supportive, loving, and understanding mother.
Chapter One
Italian Playboy Played
Late Saturday evening, Italian billionaire mogul, Franco Del Rossi (pictured above) was seen allegedly arguing with supermodel girlfriend, Gianna Torreini. Sources state that the couple has been on the outs for weeks now, often appearing separate even when attending events together...
Natalie Gains shoved the tabloid into the top drawer of her desk and slammed it closed. Stupid. She should have known better than to pick up the filth. She'd just seen Franco's face and thought...
Well, it didn't matter what she thought. If there'd been a problem, Franco would have called. He knew better than to let her read about his life in the papers. She hoped.
"So, who are they from?"
Natalie’s secretarial trainee, Eliza, shook her from her thoughts. The petite brunette was staring down at her, or, more accurately, at the volleyball-sized roses that covered half of her desk. They were exact arrangement she'd had delivered to her a long, long time ago.
Back when she'd been an entirely different and far more gullible person.
Thankfully, those days were far behind her.
Ugh, she should have known to toss the damn things. Again. To think she used to like the smell of them. After the last week of constant deliveries, that feeling had long since gone. Now, they smells pungent and unctuous and...bitter.
"Nobody." Natalie plucked the card from the center of the flowers and tossed it into the trashcan without a second glance. She should have shredded it too. And stomped on it. Maybe lit it on fire...
"You sure? If someone sent me something like this, I think I'd—"
"I'm sure. Are you back from lunch yet?" Natalie glanced from the paper bag to Eliza, trying her best not to tap her nails along her desk in impatience. Not that it was Eliza’s fault she was on edge.
It wasn’t the girl’s fault that these flowers kept harassing her every day. Or that Franco couldn’t keep his name out of the papers. Or that she was what felt like the millionth secretarial trainee.
"Um, yeah. I think I’m ready." Eliza tossed the bag into the can and it landed with a satisfying thud on top of the card. Good. Now if Natalie could get rid of the damned roses without anyone thinking twice about it, it’d be like the noxious things had never been there in the first place.
She cleared her throat, and then cast a dark glance toward the mahogany desk sitting beside Brooks Adam's door. "Good, if I had to man Hugh Heffner's desk over there when he got back from lunch, I'm pretty sure I'd have murder suicided this whole place."
God, how she loathed that man.
It felt like every month she was training someone else to sit there and tend to his majesty's commands and every month she was helping the last girl to pack up her nail polish and lipstick when the job inevitably didn't work out.
Probably because Brooks was determined to hire candidates based on the shortness of the candidate's skirt instead of the contents of her brain. Or the acuity of her verbal skills. Like, say, the ability to read.
Typical men. They didn't know what they wanted until it hit them in the face, and more often than not the thing that hit them would be a Russian stewardess with a limited command of the English language.
Or, at least, that had been the case with her first husband.
"Come on, Natalie. Brooks--er, Mr. Adams--can't be that bad. He's been very nice to me and--"
"Did he tell you to call him Brooks?" It was important to remember not to roll her eyes. This wasn't Eliza's fault. It was that big, stupid oaf's.
"Yeah, he said he hoped we could be friends and--"
She groaned. She couldn't help it. "Don't listen to a damn thing he says. All you need to know is what I teach you and please pay attention to the first lesson: Brooks Adams is--"
"Standing behind you. But please, go on." A deep rumbling voice interrupted her, and a wave of self-loathing joined the rush of heat flooding to her cheeks.
Perfect. This was exactly what she needed.
A big, healthy dose of pain-in-the-ass on top of all her other problems.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Adams." She said through gritted teeth.
"So formal, Natalie. You haven't even called me a bastard yet today." He rounded the desk, nearly knocking over her bushel of flowers in the process. Even with the roses practically crowding her, the smell of him blocked everything else our—spice and sandalwood.
The smell of a guy who always got what he wanted. Just like husband number two.
She ignored his taunt and pushed on, "I figured your secretary should learn that on her own. I'm impressed you finally found one who could type."
"Barely." Eliza whispered the word and Natalie fought the urge to hiss at her.
"I've always had a knack for picking—"
"Up women?" Natalie finished, hoping it might take that taunting laugh out of his voice once and for all. Instead, he winked. As if he knew that would further infuriate her.
"You know me well."
"Unfortunately."
Brooks laughed, and then fingered one of the flowers in her bouquet. "Who are these from? Husband number...how many did you have? Four?"
She grit her teeth and ignored the question. "Would you believe me if I told you they're from your brother? Sympathy for having to work with you?"
"Then he should have given them to Eliza." He turned that shockingly white grin on his new secretary, and she practically melted in front of him. Which was, in fact, the very worst thing that could have happened.
"Maybe he should have sent them to your last secretary. Nasty break-up, wasn't it? I saw page six the other week and—"
He waved her off, and for some reason she allowed him to silence her.
"That's in the past," he said. "She could never figure out the copier—"
"Or how to send an e-mail." Natalie added.
Brooks smiled, though now it had an edge of strain to it.
Gotcha.
"Be that as it may, I have every confidence in Eliza."
"Because your brother picked her out?" Natalie cocked an eyebrow.
"Because she comes from a lovely family with a lovely sister and I'm sure she'll do a lovely job." He made to leave, but then stopped in his tracks and turned again. "Oh, Eliza? Don't let Natalie poison you against me too much."
And just like that, he disappeared into his office.
Natalie pulled some papers from her drawer and slammed them onto her desk. What was it about Brooks Adams that filled her with so much...aggression?
Oh, that's right, it was the fact that he was impossible.
He made her job a million times harder just by virtue of his existence. Even if she'd tried to hire the secretaries herself, she knew she couldn't have done a better job than he did. That was, unless the w
oman was blind. And deaf. And possibly lacked all sense of smell.
She wanted to blame it on the girls, she really did, but she knew that even an MIT grad would have melted into a puddle of drooling goo around a guy like Brooks. Hell, if she hadn't already learned her lesson the hard way, she might have too.
He was exactly the kind of guy she used to go for. That thick head of dark hair, those icy, commanding blue eyes. And the way his jaw ticked before he shot her one of his mocking smiles?
If he were Christian Grey, every girl in Honeybrook would have lined up to try out his Red Room.
And what was worse, he knew it.
Even if he didn't use it to his advantage all the time, there was an air about him—like a celebrity who was too polite to mention their own fame, but still gave you a minute to collect yourself when you met them. Because, you know, you'd probably need to.
And that, of course was the most infuriating thing of all.
The secretaries and assistants all ate it up, even if it was pure pipe-cleaning fluid that would rot them from the inside out. They didn't care. They didn't think about all the pages of scandals he'd graced in the newspapers.
All they cared about was being with him.
Which, without exception, led to Natalie wiping up their entrails and finding the newest fodder for his lion's den.
She looked up to find Eliza still leaning on the corner of her desk, her mouth slightly ajar and her huge brown eyes unfocused, gazing in the direction of Brooks' office.
Perfect. Another lamb for the slaughter.
That was exactly what he wanted, no doubt. Eliza was pretty and perky and, according to Eliza’s sister Rachael, had a history of flitting around almost as scandalously as Brooks himself, but if Natalie had any control over this at all, she was going to make sure Eliza's heart wasn't the next one he'd beat against the rocks.
"Ugh, I pity you." Natalie said, trying to catch the girl's attention.
"I have no idea why. I get to spend every day looking at him." Eliza sighed. "Do you think it's weird to get involved with your brother-in-law? I've heard of twins marrying twins, so it's not like it's illegal."
"It would just make for some truly awkward Christmases if it didn't work out. Besides, trust me when I tell you Brooks Adams is not the marrying type."
"I don't have to be either." Eliza tilted her head to the side and her cascade of dark hair fell into the bushel of flowers. "I can see why his last secretary had trouble typing. I might have trouble remembering to breathe."
"I think you're missing the point." Natalie snapped. Seriously, she had to find a way to break through to this girl for both their sakes. Maybe if she made a special office training video "Things to avoid when working for Mr. Adams." She could come up with some nifty little catch phrase like: "If you look him in the eye, you'll know your heart is sure to die."
Okay, she'd work on that part. But it had promise.
Natalie pushed the other woman's flowers out of her bouquet. "Eliza, dear, you're drooling. You might want to take care of that."
Though Eliza rolled her eyes, she wiped her mouth in a subtle just-in-case motion. "Oh, don't be like that. I won't get in the way of the two of you."
"The two of who?"
"You know, you and Brooks."
"Me and—?" She spluttered. It was too ridiculous to bother finishing the sentence. Pairing herself up with Brooks Adams was the equivalent of matching Big Bird with Marilyn Manson. One had never fully reached adulthood while the other clearly had some deep issues to work through. And the image of them together?
She nearly chuckled just picturing it.
Eliza toyed with a petal on one of the roses. "Well, you got all red when you saw him--"
"From rage." And agitation. And annoyance. And frustration. And every other possible variation on that theme.
"What about the way he looks at you, though? All dark and sexy like? Like he's going to eat you for dinner." Eliza licked her upper lip as if to emphasize her point.
Why was she even bothering with this? The point of training Eliza—other than ensuring she wasn't as piss poor as the other secretaries in the building--was to make sure she, Eliza, didn't fall into this trap. Natalie was taken care of. She was so far away from that trap that it was practically on another plane—No, another solar system.
Natalie cleared her throat and started again, "I really have no idea what you're talking about, but I promise you Brooks Adams has no interest in me and even if he did, I would never ever in a million years consider being with someone like him."
"Why not?'
"It doesn't matter. Hey, don't you have spreadsheets to organize? While you're at it, take these flowers with you. They're giving me a headache."
Eliza tilted her thin lips to the side, and then said, "What do you mean it doesn't matter?"
"I mean that I'm not dating. And aside from that, I'm not interested in Brooks. You just have to learn to feel the same way." She took a deep breath, and then her stomach turned in on itself as she swallowed a nose-full of rose stink. Whatever resulted in this, she had to get rid of the goddamned things. And fast.
"Okay, so, you're adamant that he's not a guy to date. Why? The newspaper stuff?"
"Eliza, those spreadsheets--"
She waved it off. "Humor me. You said I need to put things in perspective." She shrugged. "Perspective-ize for me."
"He's...I don't know. He’s arrogant. And conceited. And he's one of those corporate guys, the kind that expect you to be arm candy and to pay attention to which of their colleagues kids just got married and who is actually screwing who. I'm a little too blunt for the glitterati, and based on what your sister has to say—."
"Okay, I get it. But...are you sure it outweighs the sexiness?" Eliza waggled her eyebrows.
Natalie grinned and handed her a fresh stack of papers. "I'm positive. Maybe in high school or college it's cute to have a guy who'd only into sex and parties, but at my age—"
"Don't you mean my age?" Eliza smiled.
"Just get to work, okay?"
"Okay, okay. I'm jut saying, he’s a guy who runs one of the fastest-growing matchmaking companies. It’s not like he could be that down on commitment. Plus, it sounds like you've put some serious thought into this...for me, of course." Eliza winked and Natalie had half a mind to shove another stack of paperwork at her.
Instead, she only sighed. "It's not like that, trust me. Now, let's work on that typing problem of yours before he has another reason to taunt me, okay?"
Natalie glanced at the flowers, first at the thorns and then at the deep red petals. The color of blood.
When Eliza began to trot toward her desk, Natalie picked up the bouquet and dropped the whole thing--vase and all--on Eliza's desk alongside the papers. "Maybe these will cheer you up."
Lord knew it would cheer Natalie up to be rid of them.
* * *
The huge, oak office door hit Brooks Adams so hard on the head that he nearly saw big cartoonish stars pop up in front of his eyes and spin around him before his gaze could finally focus on his attacker.
Garret, Brooks' older brother and co-partner, stood in front of him, his hands splayed out, palms up. "Jesus, are you okay?" He slipped into the room quickly, and then clicked the door shut behind him. "What the hell were you doing standing there?"
"Nothing, I—"
"Please, for the love of god, don't tell me you were spying on Eliza. I told you, my fiancé’s sister is off limits. Rachael read me the riot act about it. She said that Eliza's been through a lot and this job means so much to her and…" Garret stopped short, then let out a long-suffering sigh. "She's been worried about everything since we booked our flight for the wedding. So, for my sake, just for this once, could you please…?"
Brooks made his way over to his desk, doing his best to suppress an eye roll. Why was it that everyone thought he had some kind of compulsion to just whip out his penis in front of every live woman he met? Sure, Eliza was nice, but she was prac
tically a kid. She was still in her early twenties, and if he wanted a girl like that, the last place he'd find her was in this office.
Especially after last time.
He settled back into his chair, and then kicked his feet up onto the wide, lacquered desk. "Was there a reason for your visit or did you just want to make sure your record was still broken?"
He cocked an eyebrow and Garret loosed a smile. "I haven't said it that much."
After settling his feet back into the floor, Brooks reached into his desk and pulled out a little notepad. "I'm actually keeping a count. This brings you into the double digits."
He glanced at the sheet. In actuality, he'd been counting the number of times he'd mentioned Natalie's divorces in comparison to the number of times she'd mentioned his alleged philandering. He added two more dashes to his column, but, as always, they were neck-and-neck.
Garret sat in the leather chair in front of the desk and shrugged. “I’m just concerned."
"About?" Brooks asked.
"Eliza. Weren't you listening?"
"Oh, right, that. Well, you've got nothing to worry about. She's not my type." There. And let that be an end to it. He had more important things to deal with today than his brother's nagging. Like, for example, trying to finally pull into the lead in his personal game with Natalie.
Apparently, Garret didn't get the message, though, because he kept talking. "Regardless, it's not really a secret that your type is...well, it encompasses a large range of specimens."
Brooks looked up from his pad, then at his brother, then at the pad again. "Again, I ask you, why are you here?"
"We have—wait, you never told me why you were standing by the door like that."
"You never asked."
"I'm asking now," Garret said.
Brooks sat the notepad on the desk in front of him, then leaned back in his chair and weighed his options. He could lie and see if he could come up with something believable on the spot. Of course, if his brother didn't believe him, he'd probably just assume that Brooks had been staring out the window at Eliza.
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