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Hungry Boss
By: Charlize Starr
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
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Chapter One
Matt Cross made the trip to his father’s office feeling like he had as a small child when he’d been called into the old man’s study. Somehow, in some way, he had disappointed his father yet again. The elevator dinged and he got off on the old man’s floor.
Bypassing his father’s assistant, who just waved at him with a smile, Matt knocked on the door and let himself in. His father, Richard, was on the telephone when Matt entered, so he made his way to the small bar and poured himself a bourbon. It was too early, but if he were going to get lectured, he needed the drink.
He settled on the leather couch as his father finished up his phone call. Running a multi-billion dollar luxury hotel chain was hard work—and it was work that Matt looked forward to undertaking. His sister was a stay-at-home mom with four kids. She didn’t come anywhere near the business.
Their parents were well into their late-thirties before they had married, and forty before Matt was born. Matt was thirty—young to take on such a role—but his father was seventy now and ready to retire.
Matt had worked for the company since graduating college at twenty-one. He’d worked his way up to a vice-president position. It didn’t take a lot of thinking to conclude that he would become CEO and president when his father retired in just three months.
Finally, his father hung up the conference call and gave Matt an assessing look. “It’s a little early for alcohol, isn’t it?”
“I’m still on London time. It’s past five there.”
Richard shrugged. “Well, thankfully, I’m not here to talk about your drinking. That’s one problem you don’t have.”
Matt leaned forward on the couch. “Exactly what problem do I have?”
“Flitting around the world, for starters.”
“I don’t flit, father. I travel for work.”
“Meh, there’s no point in it, son.” Richard waved a hand in dismissal and sat back in his buttery cream leather executive chair. He left one hand to rest on the steel and glass modern desk.
“I fix the problems no one else can handle. Those hotels, every one, are either in crisis or running at a loss. Without my intervention, those locations would have been shut down within the year.”
“You’re putting out fires. When you’re this high in the company, you don’t put out fires. You hire good managers who can do it for you.”
Matt stood up to pace his father’s large office. “Why hire someone to do something I can do better?”
“You’ve got to learn to look at the big picture. You’ll never become CEO at this rate.”
Frozen, Matt stared at his father. His blood turned to ice water in his veins. “What the hell does that mean?”
With a sigh, his father leaned his head back against the headrest on his seat. “It means that I’m considering making Gary interim CEO and president until you get your life together.”
“My life is together. What is this about? And don’t tell me it’s just about how I do my job because I can tell that it’s not.”
“I’m talking about marriage and children. Things you’ll be—you are, the way you work—too busy for if I make you president. Without an heir, who will this company be passed down to?”
Matt threw himself into a soft armchair in front of the desk and ran a hand through his perfectly trimmed hair. He’d tried marriage once already, when he was younger. He’d wed his college sweetheart. Matt had insisted they didn’t need a prenup because they were so in love. Months before he turned twenty-five and came into his trust fund worth billions, he caught her cheating on him. They’d divorced and she’d taken half of what he had at the time.
Now, he knew women were only interested in him for his money. He dated the most beautiful actresses and models. He bought them jewelry, paid for expensive trips, took them shopping. It satisfied both their desires. He had no intention of ever marrying again. “Diane has four children, in case you’ve forgotten. Your legacy is already assured.”
“She’s not raising them to be in the business. You knew how to balance a ledger at twelve. How to—”
“Yes, yes. You did a good job, father. What’s your point, is what I’m wondering.” Matt picked up his forgotten bourbon and took a sip. It burned going down his throat, but it was a welcome heat.
“I need to see some maturity from you, son. Prove your worth to this company, learn to see the big picture, and, damn it, date someone for more than a month. Settle down.”
“You’re retiring in three months. You expect me to do all this before then?”
“If you can somehow swing a miracle, that’d be nice. Otherwise, Gary will take your place, until you’re ready to head this company.”
The unfairness of it all threatened to erupt from him, but his father would see that as no more than a petty, and childish tantrum. Matt did, indeed, need a miracle. He needed some way he could convince his father he was ready to take the company into the future, without becoming tied down with an unappreciative wife and a few kids he’d never have time for.
***
Brooke Monroe was already late for work, but Matt would understand. He knew she had obligations to help her father care for himself. She’d made him breakfast and he was trying the new weighted fork she’d purchased from a website for people with Parkinson’s. Her dad had been diagnosed seven years ago, before her mother’s death. He’d went downhill quite a bit since becoming a widower.
Brooke made her way through the small kitchen into the cluttered living room. She couldn’t find her keys anywhere. This place was wrecked. She tried to make strides on it when she actually got to be at home instead of traveling for work, but there was just too little room with her and her father’s things piled into the two-bedroom apartment. They’d had to sell the family home to cover her mother’s medical bills after she died.
And that was her biggest problem now—her dad should be in an assisted living home, but his insurance refused to cover it. She picked up a box of old records and her keys fell to the floor. She assumed her father must’ve moved the box last night onto her keys without realizing.
The CNA who came by twice a week would be in today to check on her father and make sure he took his medication and had a good lunch. On other days, Brooke had to lay everything out, labeled with post-it notes detailing which pills he should take and when, what container his lunch was in, and how long should he heat it.
When she went out of town, her friend Carrie, a child psychologist, checked in on her dad and helped take ca
re of him. She was utterly indebted to Carrie for the help, but Carrie herself always said she had no family of her own to care for, so she liked helping.
“I’m leaving now, Daddy. Bye!”
“This fork is great, Brooke. It’s helping a lot.”
She paused, door open. Her dad tended to be impulsive now and focused on what entered his mind at the time. Sometimes, like when she was late for work, it was a struggle to be patient, but she tried so hard. “That’s great. I’m going now. Love you.”
“Love you, too. Have a good day at work.”
Brooke rushed out to her car and turned the key. It roared to life. She wished she’d had time to warm it up some. Mornings were still pretty chilly here in Chicago, but she’d just have to let her coat do its job and keep her warm.
She mused to herself, making the drive to the business sector, how she could do more for her father. Without more money, she couldn’t. She made enough to support herself; his income paid for his medications, co-pays, and insurance. There just wasn’t any extra, even between the two of them, to pay for more care or the assisted living home she’d found. If only she’d win the lottery. Unfortunately, Brooke was far too practical to squander her money playing the lottery, so it seemed unlikely.
She just felt so awful for her dad. Her parents had had the perfect marriage—this wasn’t the life they’d envisioned sharing together one day.
And she didn’t know when—between traveling for work and taking care of her father—she’d ever get the chance to meet the perfect man for her. Besides all that, who would believe she wanted to wait until marriage before having sex when she traveled constantly with one of the world’s most famous playboys?
Never mind that she was halfway in love with her boss—who would never settle down again in a million years. Matt was so generous and understanding. It was a shame he was so against loving again. Not like she had a chance with someone like him anyway. He dated supermodels and famous actresses.
It was with a lot on her mind that Brooke finally pulled into her parking space at work, a perk Matt insisted she needed. She rushed upstairs and got off of one elevator just as Matt was getting off another.
“Miss Monroe, you finally made it.”
He called her Brooke most of the time. He only called her Miss Monroe because she had the same platinum blonde hair and clear blue eyes as Marilyn Monroe. The comparison ended there; where Marilyn was curvy, Brooke was thin and petite. Mostly, Matt knew it annoyed her.
“Yes, Mr. Cross.” That annoyed him worse. He hated formality when they worked so closely together. Brooke had told Matt all about her father and the duties she had to take care of for him.
He’d offered to pay for the assisted living home, but Brooke couldn’t bring herself, no matter how much she needed it, to accept such a gift. How would she hold her head up, knowing how very much it cost, how much she owed him?
“Stop calling me that.” They fell into step together as they made their way to his office. “We’re leaving for Vegas this evening.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. We just got back from London.”
“I know, but it can’t be helped.” He opened the door for her and she settled in at her desk. She had messages to go through, correspondence to sort. So much work to do since they’d been in London for five days.
She looked up when he didn’t leave. He just stood in front of her desk. “Is something wrong?”
“How was everything at home today?”
“It’s pretty obvious I’ve had a rough morning—I’m an hour late. Why?”
“It’s nothing. I’m going out for the rest of the day. You leave here by three, so you can pack, and meet me at the airport at eight.”
“You’ve already booked our flight?” She found it hard to believe Matt could do that on his own. She was his right hand, and she knew it. It paid well and at least she had job security. That was more than a lot of people could say.
He backed away from her desk, lifting his hand in a goodbye salute. “Had someone else do it. See you tonight.”
Perfect. She had five hours to get through the mountain of paperwork on her desk.
***
Thank God, Brooke had managed to make it to the airport before boarding. Now they sat in their first class seats and the plane had just taken off. It wouldn’t be as long as a transatlantic flight, like last time.
“I don’t know why we don’t ride in business class, Matt. Flying in first class makes me feel like I’m bilking the company.”
“It’s my choice to fly in first class. I’m a VP so it’s not an issue. I’d pay the difference if it was.” He settled back into his padded seat. “I like first class.”
“But I’m not a VP. I’m just your assistant. You should at least put me in business class.”
“If I did that, who would I talk to during the flight?”
She quirked her lips and shook her head. “You’re incorrigible.”
After a few minutes, she stood. “I’m going to go to the restroom. Watch out for the cougar up the aisle. I think she recognizes you.”
“And you’re going to leave me here to be devoured by a hungry cougar?”
“Your own fault for dating all those famous women.” She headed down the aisle.
It only took a minute for the woman to unbuckle her seat belt, make her way over, and sit down in Brooke’s seat. “You’re Matt Cross. I recognized you from that article in People. It’s a shame about your breakup last week.”
“It didn’t happen last week. It was in the magazine last week. But thanks for the sentiment.”
She put her forearm on the armrest between them, letting her hand dangle so her fingertips grazed his thigh.
He nearly jumped. “I’m sorry, but my fiancée will be back in just a minute.”
“She didn’t look like your fiancée. And how did you break up with someone last week and get engaged already?” She pressed her hand firmly into his thigh, just below his groin. “Besides, I don’t mind. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?”
“Madame, I would never cheat on my fiancée. I love her desperately.”
Brooke made her way up the aisle, completely absorbed in thought.
“There you are, darling,” he said.
Brooke looked at him, confusion clearly stamped across her face.
“This is your fiancée?” The older woman said, sitting back stiffly in Brooke’s chair. “I don’t believe it. Kiss her.”
“Excuse me?” Brooke asked.
Matt met Brooke’s gaze, pleading with his eyes for her to just go along with this. “Fine,” he said.
Brooke gave a terse nod. “Right. Fine.”
Matt took her wrist in his hand and placed a tender kiss there.
“On. The. Lips.” The woman, who hadn’t budged from Brooke’s seat, raised an eyebrow in challenge. She had no intention of moving, of leaving Matt alone, if he didn’t prove to her he was a devoted fiancé.
“I wasn’t finished.” Matt tugged on Brooke’s wrist. She tripped over the woman’s legs and landed in his lap. Without letting himself think about it, because this was Brooke, he sealed his lips to hers.
Brooke gasped, opening her mouth, and Matt slid his tongue into the warm recess. Electric shocks coursed through his body, straight to his dick, which twitched to life. What?
Shock quickly followed the attraction. But, his mouth was still on hers, and, damn it, he might never get the chance to do this again. He nibbled on her lip and her arms snaked around his neck to pull him closer. She responded, little fluttery touches of her tongue against his own.
She smelled like peaches, a treat he’d loved as a kid and hadn’t thought of in years. It was like slipping back into the sun’s warmth after a long winter. One of them moaned, he didn’t even know which at this point.
“Jesus, I get it,” the woman next to him muttered.
And, still, he continued to kiss her. Had any kiss ever tasted this sweet? What had he been missing for the last
four years, treating Brooke as his assistant, his friend, when there was so much more to discover?
Breathless, Brooke pulled back first. She was still planted on his lap, her tight ass pressing almost painfully into the erection he now sported.
The woman just sat there, staring at them both.
Brooke cleared her throat. “I’m going to have to insist that you return to your seat. This is turning into harassment.”
The woman got up and, as gracefully as she could, Brooke stood, swiped a hand down her skirt, and sat back down in her seat. She picked up her book and began reading again, never meeting Matt’s gaze.
He’d never thought of Brooke this way before. She was his employee, and confidant, but touching her soft skin, he’d become aware of the way her fitted blouse hugged her curves. Her pencil skirt came down to mid-calf, but her legs up to that point were a sight. Come to think of it, Brooke was trim and fit, and her breasts would be exactly enough to fit in the palms of his hands.
That was it. He sat up straighter in his chair, took a drink of his whiskey. He had to stop thinking of her this way. He’d always known she was attractive by any measure, with her shoulder-length blonde hair and bright blue eyes. And those pliant, perfect lips were full and generous.
This wasn’t really a big deal. Anyone could see she was gorgeous. He’d be over it before the plane landed. All the same, he pulled out his iPad, determined to do some work and occupy his overactive mind.
***
The next day, Matt and Brooke headed for the hotel bar. They’d spent a dull day examining the hotel’s books. He’d spent the long day trying to forget that kiss on the plane, the desire that had pumped through him, and the fact that he couldn’t stop seeing her as a woman now.
Her expression was pinched as they entered.
“Work getting you down?” he asked as they hopped up onto a couple of bar stools.
“My dad.” She sighed. “It’s getting harder and harder to leave him. He needs more care. I worry so much that his feet will get twisted up, he’ll fall, and no one will find him until the next day.”
Hungry Boss Page 1
