Risky Business: A Steamy Alpha wealthy Boss, Passionate At First Sight (Fiery Edition Book 1)

by Jessica Rosalind

  Risky Business

  A Steamy Alpha Wealthy Boss & Normal Jane Passionate At First Sight

  By Jessica Rosalind

  Copyright, All Rights Reserved, 2019

  Chapter 1: Adam

  Chapter 2: Amy

  Chapter 3: Adam

  Chapter Four: Amy

  Chapter Five: Adam

  Chapter Six: Amy

  Chapter Seven: Adam

  Chapter Eight: Amy

  Chapter Nine: Adam

  Chapter Ten: Amy

  Chapter Eleven: Adam

  Chapter Twelve: Amy

  Chapter Thirteen: Adam

  Chapter Fourteen: Amy

  Chapter 1: Adam

  It was four-thirty in the afternoon on a gloomy Tuesday in the middle of November, and the tip-tap of the rain against my office window was slightly out of sync with the ticking of the clock on the wall above, which I couldn’t help watching. Even though I technically didn't finish work for another hour, it had been a mind-numbingly long day, filled with pointless meetings and inane phone calls, and I was wondering if I could leave early without anyone noticing.

  Of course, when you’re a senior manager in a multi-million-dollar marketing firm with offices across five countries, there’s not much anyone could really do about it, if they did notice - but it’s still good to maintain the reputation I’d built over my sixteen years at the company.

  My eyes fell from the barely-moving hands of the clock, down to the window below, and for a moment I sat and watched the raindrops as they hit the glass and trickled down towards the ledge. The sky was beginning to darken, and I could start to see my very faint reflection in the moody grey clouds. Damn, I thought to myself, I could really use a haircut. I ran a hand through my hair. It was thick and dark, but not quite black, and the ends were beginning to curl.

  Suddenly, I heard a knock at my office door. “Come in,” I murmured with a sigh, as I swiveled back around to face my computer and the five new emails that had appeared in my inbox during the three minutes I’d been staring out the window. The door creaked open.

  “Good news!”

  I looked up from my computer screen and over to the doorway. Carla, the human resources manager, was standing there with her long brown hair tied back into a ponytail and a wide grin across her smooth, olive-skinned face. “We’ve finally found you a new assistant!”

  Two months ago, my assistant Rachel had left to move with her husband and three young children to Puerto Rico. She’d been working for me for six years, and was hands down the best assistant I’d ever had. So far, the search for a replacement hadn't gone well. Perhaps I'd set my standards too high, but after Rachel, who could blame me? That woman had memorized my schedule within half an hour of stepping foot inside the building, and until she left I'm pretty sure it had been at least a year since I'd had to respond to an email or book an appointment for myself. She had made my life a thousand times easier, but for the last two months my days had been reduced to a chaotic flurry of administration on top of, you know, just running an entire division of the company. Carla was right - this was great news.

  "You'll love her,” Carla continued. “She has seven years' experience as a personal assistant to one of the senior managing partners over at Tolstoy and Brown - you know, that accounting firm in New York? And before that, a business administration degree with first-class honors. Her name is Amy Jenkins."

  “Amy Jenkins,” I repeated. “She does sound pretty qualified... When does she start?”

  Carla grinned again. “That’s the best part. She literally just moved here from New York - like, last week - and she wanted to start straight away.” She dropped a small pile of paper onto the corner of my desk, fastened together with a silver paper clip, then turned around and walked back towards the door, her shiny ponytail bobbing with each step. As she walked out, grabbing the door handle loosely behind her, she looked back with one last smile, showing her perfect, sparkling white teeth. “Her first day is tomorrow!”

  As the door closed, I reached across the desk and grabbed the pile of paper Carla had left me. Flipping through it, I glanced snippets of references, contact details and questionnaires, the standard new hire paperwork. At the very bottom of the pile was Amy’s resume. I pulled it out and began reading, wanting to find out more about her. Starting tomorrow, we’d be spending 40 hours a week together, after all.

  It was probably the most thorough resume I’d ever seen. Her employment history began with a part-time job at an ice cream parlor in a small town in upstate New York, and progressed through various college jobs, graduate roles and junior positions, until her seven year stint at the prestigious accounting firm she’d come from. I rolled my eyes. Already, I felt like I knew everything there was to know about this Amy person. Sure, it all sounds very impressive, but isn’t an eight-page resume just slightly excessive? If I were in charge of hiring - or, at least, if I had the time to hire my own assistant - I wouldn’t even look at a resume that took up more than two pages.

  I placed the resume back at the bottom of the pile and pulled out a reference letter from above it. Skimming through, mentions of diligent, meticulous and hard-working jumped out at me. Sighing, I returned the letter to the pile. She does sound like a perfect fit for the job. And Carla has an incredible eye for these things. She's never once been wrong about a decision like this.

  As I stood from my chair and dropped the pile of documents back onto the desk, I flicked the lid of my laptop down and watched the blue light fade. I picked up my dark grey woolen coat off the back of the chair and slipped my arms through the sleeves, one by one, before grabbing the handle of my laptop case and sliding the computer inside. Zipping the case up and slinging the strap over my shoulder, I turned and glanced back at the papers sitting in the middle of my desk, stark white against the mellow brown oak.

  If Carla is never wrong about things like this, then why do I suddenly have an incredible feeling of dread in the very pit of my stomach?

  I flipped the light switch and stepped out of my office, closing the door and turning the key.

  Chapter 2: Amy

  As I put the phone down, I slumped back into the kitchen table chair and breathed a sigh of relief. I’d just spoken to Carla, the bubbly hiring manager who’d interviewed me this morning. I thought the interview had gone horribly - it was my fourth so far this week, and it was only Tuesday. I’d spent the weekend researching every company that I’d been able to line up an interview with, but as soon as I walked into the room, I forgot everything I’d learned and had to completely bluff my way through. The entire time, it was like I could hear myself talking but had no control over what was coming out - just buzzwords and clichés that I’d somehow become conversationally fluent in throughout my time as the personal assistant to Jackson Brown, senior managing partner of a highly regarded accounting firm back in New York City.

  Ah, New York City. I’d only been gone for a week - eight days, to be exact - but already, it felt like a lifetime ago.

  I guess something I’d said in the interview must have landed in the right way, because Carla had just offered me a job as the assistant to a senior manager. I tried to hide my surprise, which was fairly easy to do over the phone - I just held in a squeal and asked as casually as I could when they’d like me to start.

  “Well,” Carla had said, “we really want you to come in sooner rather than later. When’s the earliest you think you can start?”

  I hesitated for a mome
nt, not wanting to make a faux pas [1]barely seconds after I’d been offered the job, and then reconsidered - she’d said sooner rather than later, after all. “Ummm… Is tomorrow too soon?”

  “Tomorrow’s fantastic,” Carla laughed. “We’ll see you at nine.”

  I reached for a glass and twisted open a bottle of merlot, thinking I’d earned a celebratory wine tonight. A question popped into my mind - I hadn’t even yet thought to ask who I’d be the assistant to. I knew it was a senior partner, of course, but with a firm that size, there must be a few. I hoped it wasn’t some old power-hungry guy with a bald spot and a paunchy belly that would tell me to wear my hair a certain way, or hem my skirts shorter. If I was lucky, he’d be more the fatherly type, and we’d build a sort of friendship. Maybe it would even be a woman - someone not too much older than me, perhaps - and I could become her confidante.

  Really, though, I’m not too fussy, just as long as it’s not another Jackson.

  I sipped my wine and then stood up, stretching, when suddenly, I heard a mrowww from underneath the old pine table. “Minnie!” I sat back down and reached my arm, where Minnie was waiting to be petted. Her black and white patches shook as she began to purr, and she rubbed her little wet nose against my hand, begging for more. “Did you hear that? I got a job!”

  Mrow, Minnie replied. She jumped up into my lap and I wrapped my arms around her, as her tail wound its way around my neck and her little needle claws dug into my thighs. I ran my hands along her back, smoothing her long, soft fur. “I know, I can’t believe it either! We’ve only been here a week.”

  I’d heard so many horror stories about finding a job in this city that I’d been mentally preparing myself to be living off canned beans on toast for months while I searched high and low to find someone, anyone who would hire me. I had been lucky enough to have arranged an apartment to move into before I’d even arrived - someone I’d worked with back in New York had grown up here, and his brother had recently moved into a bigger house with his fiancé and was planning to sub-let his tiny, one-bedroom bachelor pad to make some extra cash while they saved for the wedding. He’d put us in touch and I’d managed to snap this place up before it had even gone on the market.

  It wasn’t much, but it was certainly enough for me and Minnie. There was a small bedroom with one large window overlooking the river, and a tiny lounge just big enough for a two-seater couch. I didn’t own a TV, and I didn’t really want to, so I’d gone out and bought a bookcase to fill the opposite wall, and planned to find trinkets and decorations to display and make the place a little less… well, boring. There was a small kitchen, where I’d put a tiny dining table and two chairs, and then off to the side, a bathroom complete with a full-sized tub! The bathroom was probably the biggest room of all, which was perfectly fine with me. A bubble bath, a glass of wine and a good book (plus Minnie perched on the closed toilet seat, of course) was my idea of a perfect evening.

  Realizing I hadn’t actually eaten anything all day, I finished the rest of my glass of wine, then gave Minnie a scratch under her chin before lifting her gently, placing her down on the floor with a pat. “Right, Minnie,” I said as she stared up at me, pleadingly. “I’d better eat something before that wine gets the better of me.”

  One frozen pizza and a quick bath later, and I collapsed into my bed, falling asleep within a matter of minutes. The next thing I knew, it was six-thirty a.m. and my alarm was buzzing, reminding me to get up and prepare for my first day.

  After tumbling out of bed, feeling surprisingly refreshed and ready to start the day, I jumped into the shower, washing my hair and shaving my legs for the first time since I’d left New York. I spent the next hour preening, applying make-up and blow-drying my wild black curls into submission, then chose a dark grey pinstripe skirt - fitted, yet reserved, and sitting a couple of inches above the knee. Paired with a chiffon, peach-colored blouse and my favorite black stilettos, I felt like I was ready to take on the world.

  Until, precisely sixteen minutes and three subway stops later, I arrived at my new office and realized who I was about to be working for.

  Chapter 3: Adam

  At eight fifty-seven on Wednesday morning, Amy Jenkins stepped into my office, shepherded by Carla who was wearing a bright yellow dress and her trademark smile.

  Amy was tall, but not too tall - three inches shorter than me, perhaps, or six if she removed the heels she was wearing, which made her legs look long and toned and her butt perky and round. I couldn’t help staring - I’m a legs guy, what can I say? She was wearing a tight, charcoal-colored skirt that had a slit at the bottom, offering a hint of thigh, and a peachy blouse that made her warm hazelnut-brown eyes pop. Her hair was long, dark and luxuriously curly, perfectly complimenting her lightly tanned complexion. She had a full, soft-looking face, with plump, rosy lips and light freckles on her cheekbones.

  All of a sudden, the feeling of dread that I’d felt last night when leaving the office came rushing back, and this time I knew why.

  Trying to smother my desire, I extended a hand towards Amy. “You must be my new assistant,” I said, trying to keep my voice level. “I’m Adam. Adam Sherwell.”

  She smiled, and it looked like she might have been blushing. She took my hand to shake it, and as I gripped her smooth, soft, manicured fingers, I felt a jolt of electricity work its way up my spine. I held onto our handshake for a second too long, and then dropped it as I felt my own face flush with heat.

  “I’ve already shown her around the rest of the office,” Carla jumped in, distracting me with the bright, sunny manner that only she could manage at this hour of the morning. “She was twenty minutes early - keen, huh?” She winked at Amy, who giggled. The sound of her gentle laughter, tinged with nervousness that I could tell she was trying to hide, made my chest tighten.

  “Anyway,” Carla continued, “she’s got her access cards, and the IT guys should be up in a few hours to sort out her computer login. In the meantime, she’s all yours.”

  As Carla left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar, I struggled to think of what to say next. I was completely transfixed on Amy. Her curves were intoxicating, and all I could think about what it’d be like to run my hands along her waist, and then up through her gorgeous, wild hair... How was I supposed to survive the next few hours, until her computer had been set up and she was able to start getting settled into the job? How on earth was I going to focus?

  I motioned to the armchair in the corner of my office, about three feet from the edge of my desk. “Feel free to take a seat. Did you want a coffee or anything?”

  She giggled again, that cute, nervous laughter I was already falling for. “Thanks, but I think it’s my job to bring you coffee.”

  Oh god. She was right. She’d only been here two minutes - had I made a fool out of myself in front of her already?

  Pull yourself together, I urged myself silently. You’re her boss!

  “Touché,” I replied in what I hoped was a smooth, confident tone. “Well, you know where the kitchen is, right?”

  “I sure do,” she smiled. As she turned around to leave in pursuit of a much-needed caffeine hit, I caught myself staring again. How was it possible for her skirt to fit her ass that perfectly? Her hair fell down over her shoulders and hung just below the waistline of her skirt, which sat right at the narrowest part of her frame, showing off her captivating hourglass silhouette.

  “How do you like it?”

  I glanced up to see her looking back at me from the doorway. Had she caught me staring? I felt every ounce of blood in my body rush to my face.

  “Like... what?” I stammered.

  Amy raised an eyebrow. “Your coffee.”

  “Oh!” I exhaled. “Um… Americano. Just a bit of milk, no sugar.”

  As she made her way towards the kitchen and her footsteps grew fainter, I returned to my desk and slumped down onto my computer chair. My legs had been ready to give way underneath me, and my heart was beating far too quickly, as
if I’d just finished an intense cardio session at the gym. I stared at the computer screen on the desk in front of me, scrolling through emails and reading memos, but without comprehending any of it.

  I was in trouble.

  Chapter Four: Amy

  As soon as I was out of Adam’s office, I walked as quickly as I could through the corridor and towards the kitchen, trying to remind myself to breathe.

  Out of all the people in this city, how is it that I’ve ended up working for the most gorgeous man I could ever have imagined?

  Dressed in an impeccably tailored light grey shirt and slim-fitting black trousers, he was tall and muscular, with sharp, broad shoulders and a clean-shaven jawline that could cut glass, contrasted by a playful mop of soft dark hair. His eyes were strikingly blue, and as soon as they met mine, I’d struggled to look away. Instantly, I felt as though he’d cast a spell upon me.

  This was the last thing I needed.

  I’d left New York to get away from men like this. Men who, despite my efforts to resist, were able to take hold of me in some way and not let go until they’d consumed me.

  The official reason I’d claimed for leaving my previous job was simply that I was moving away from New York - but anyone that knew me at Tolstoy and Brown would have known that that was merely a cover-up for the real explanation of my departure. Moving away had been a side effect of leaving my job, when I realized that I could no longer bear to be in the same city as Jackson Brown, let alone working as his assistant, confined to the same office space as him for forty hours a week. When he ended things with me after months of promises that he’d leave his wife any day, I needed a clean break.

  I had no doubt that at some point during our two-year affair, suspicions somehow had been raised, despite our best efforts to keep our “working lunches” and “late meetings” a secret. And when I left suddenly, without giving two weeks’ notice or even saying goodbye, the rumor mills were sure to have started spinning. But as far as anyone was officially concerned, I’d moved away from New York for “personal reasons”, and unfortunately, that meant leaving my long-established role as Jackson Brown’s assistant.