by Julia Sexton
Seduced By The Alien Boss
Julia Sexton
Copyright 2015 by Julia Sexton
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced
in any way whatsoever, without written permission
from the author, except in case of brief
quotations embodied in critical reviews
and articles.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any
person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
First edition, 2015
Chapter 1
In the last five years, improvements in space exploration technology had leapt forward, improving more in just a few short years than in all the decades since the very first manmade object was launched into the upper atmosphere. In large part, it was due to Orbital Prime, a company dedicated to aerospace engineering.
The improvements that the company had made towards satellites, propulsion, space crafts, and even terraforming were incredible, and there were whispers and rumors that a sky colony on Venus and colonies on Mars and the moon were not so far off.
It was all rather exciting to think about, and the more Genevieve thought about it, the more excited she got about the idea of working for the company.
Not as a researcher or an engineer or anything so prestigious—she was smart, but with only a bachelor’s degree in English, they weren’t exactly the kinds of jobs she was qualified for—but as the CEO’s secretary.
Well, sort of his secretary. The job description had been something of a cross between a secretary and a personal assistant. Regardless, it was an honor to be allowed to work for such a company.
It was her first day on the job, and she spent a bit longer than usual standing in front of the antique, full-length mirror that her grandmother had willed to her. All things considered, she looked pretty good.
Her carefully tailored, orange blouse did wonders for her already ample bust, her black pencil skirt clung to her broad hips, and her black pumps emphasized the fact that she was tall without making her look like a giant.
Her make-up was somewhat minimal; gold eyeliner, gold and orange eye shadow, and mascara. Her black hair was in a bun on top of her head, easily kept out of the way.
Attractive, but professional. She was sure to make a good first impression.
The drive to the building seemed to take an eternity, and she hesitated outside the front door for a few seconds before she pushed the glass door open and stepped inside.
Just the lobby took her breath away. Everything was pristine and gleaming, and everything important was displayed on sleek, flat screens set into the walls. The walls were decorated with paintings of many different styles, and sculptures decorated the free spaces on the counters and tables.
Genevieve thought back to the instructions she had been given for her first day, took a deep breath, and walked over to the elevator and stepped inside. It was a crystal clear tube with the buttons situated on a center console, rather than on the elevator wall.
While it was a touch disconcerting at first, Genevieve couldn’t help but watch with a sense of wonder as the elevator rose through the various floors, passing through offices and labs and testing centers, until it stopped at the top floor.
She stepped out of the elevator and peered around at what she realized was not just an office, but a full penthouse. She could just make out part of a kitchen and living room through the glass door.
There was a desk in front of the glass door, sleek and glossy and made of glass and dark metal, and across from it a handful of chairs.
On the wall opposite the elevator was a dark door, with a gleaming plaque on it reading VINCENT GRIMOIRE, CEO.
Genevieve’s instructions had told her to simply get to work without interrupting him, so she sat down behind the waiting room’s desk, empty save for a computer that looked like it had to have cost more than her entire apartment and a phone that gleamed like a mirror.
She set her purse down on the desk, shifted around in the chair until she was comfortable, and began exploring the computer.
The schedule was…extensive. It seemed every moment Mr. Grimoire was awake, he was doing something. Meeting with engineers, inventors, heads of other companies, and even political figures. If he wasn’t in meetings, the schedule had loose estimations of when new projects could be unveiled.
Just reading all of it was exhausting, and Genevieve had to wonder how there were enough hours in a day.
The phone rang, jolting Genevieve back to the present. She picked it up before it could ring a second time and answered politely, “Orbital Prime. You’ve reached the office of Vincent Grimoire. How may I direct your call?”
Never to be a quiet moment, it seemed.
Two hours into the day, a young woman who couldn’t have been older than eighteen bustled into the waiting room with an empty messenger bag draped across her chest, and before Genevieve could even say a word to her, the woman hurried through the door into Mr. Grimoire’s office.
Ten minutes later, the young woman hurried right back out with the bag bulging, only to grind to a halt when she spotted Genevieve.
“Oh!” she gasped in surprise.
“You aren’t Cathy.”
“No. No I’m not,” Genevieve acknowledged, and she arched one eyebrow.
“Who are you supposed to be?”
The woman laughed and rubbed the back of her head sheepishly.
“Sorry about that. I’m Crystal. I’m a courier, and I’ve been delivering stuff for Vincent for months, so I’m pretty used to just coming and going.”
Genevieve relaxed slightly and smiled.
“I’m Genevieve. Think you could tell me what to expect with him?” She nodded her head towards the office door.
Crystal tipped her head to one side.
“You haven’t met him?”
“Nope,” Genevieve replied. “I was told to just get straight to work and to not interrupt him unless I had to.”
Crystal rolled her eyes emphatically. “Yeeeaaaaah, that’s not surprising,” she said.
“I mean, he’s not bad to work for. Tips well, and he’s fuckin’ gorgeous to look at, but he’s, uh. He’s a bit of a prick.” She rubbed the back of her head again.
“Pretty sure he’s had people tell him he’s a genius a few too many times. Just, uh, don’t tell him I said that.”
Genevieve held one hand up, as if to take an oath.
“I’m sworn to silence,” she replied.
“Thanks for the warning.”
Crystal waved cheerfully as she headed back to the elevator.
“Good luck with the job,” she said before the elevator door closed.
Genevieve sighed quietly. Just what she wanted to hear. Her boss was an ass. She had no time to dwell on it, though, as the phone rang again. Genevieve answered in promptly.
“Orbital Prime. You’ve reached the office of Vincent Grimoire. How may I direct your call?”
At least she wouldn’t need to worry about just sitting idle.
Genevieve was eating her lunch at her desk when the door to the office finally slid open and the esteemed Vincent Grimoire stepped out. He paused in the doorway and stared at her for a second, though Genevieve couldn’t gauge his expression behind his sunglasses.
Still, she used the moment as an opportunity to admire him. Crystal hadn’t been kidding when she said he w
as gorgeous to look at.
He had skin like bronze and short hair like the gold of a sky at sunset, and he made Genevieve look short. He wasn’t massive like a body builder, but each muscle seemed perfectly toned, like a gymnast, and his face could have been carved by a Roman sculptor.
He was impeccably dressed in a dark suit with amber accents, and the entire ensemble looked to have cost about as much as the computer Genevieve had been using for the whole day.
“Huh,” Vincent hummed.
“I almost thought you weren’t here.”
His accent was…something. Genevieve couldn’t figure out where it was from, as she had never heard one like it before, but it was most certainly an accent.
“You told me not to interrupt you,” Genevieve pointed out.
She decided not to say ‘who did you think had been channeling your calls all day?’ since that was probably just a little unprofessional and not the greatest way to make a first impression.
Vincent shrugged carelessly. “Well, yeah, but I didn’t actually expect you to listen.”
Genevieve barely managed to refrain from rolling her eyes and instead smiled politely.
“Surprise.”
Vincent hummed in acknowledgement.
“Genesis or something like that, right?” But he was already heading towards the elevator.
Before she could even say, “Genevieve, actually,” the elevator doors were closed.
She sighed slowly. What a brilliant start. The only way it could have been worse was if he had hit on her and actively insulted her.
There was no time to dwell on it, though. The elevator came back up and a middle-aged man stepped out.
“I have an appointment,” he informed her blandly.
“Name, please?” Genevieve requested.
The man sighed impatiently.
“Daniels, Robert,” he replied.
A quick look at the schedule filled Genevieve with dread. She plastered a smile into place.
“You’re almost a full two hours early, Mr. Daniels, and Mr. Grimoire is in a meeting with the board,” she said.
“You’re free to wait here, though, if you’d like, or you could leave and come back closer to the time of your meeting.”
A thunderous look crossed the man’s face, and he dropped down into a chair like a sulking toddler.
Genevieve tried to mentally prepare herself for a very long wait.
Chapter 2
“I have been waiting here for damn near two fucking hours!” Robert Daniels exclaimed, and he planted his hands on Genevieve’s desk with two loud slaps.
“I told you that you were almost two hours early, Mr. Daniels,” Genevieve reminded him calmly.
He snorted like an angry bull.
“And you told me to wait,” he spat.
“I said you could,” Genevieve corrected him.
“I also said you were free to leave.”
“Do you even know who I am?” he demanded, leaning farther over the desk.
One answer was ‘not really,’ and another answer was ‘not my boss,’ but Genevieve did not say either of those things.
Instead, she said, “I understand that your business with Mr. Grimoire is very important, but that doesn’t change the fact that he isn’t available yet. Now please, sit back down. I’m sure Mr. Grimoire will return shortly.”
“You stupid bitch, you do not have the right to—“
Mr. Daniels didn’t get a chance to say what Genevieve didn’t have the right to do, as the elevator door chose that moment to slide open.
He whipped towards the elevator to stare at it like a deer in headlights as Genevieve offered a pleasant, “Welcome back, Mr. Grimoire. I hope your meeting went well.”
“Yeah, it was great, Gen,” Vincent replied, sounding distracted. He focused on Mr. Daniels.
“Daniels, right?” he asked.
When he got a stiff not in answer, he asked, “You wanna finish whatever you were about to say?” and nodded towards Genevieve.
He watched his guest expectantly over the edge of his sunglasses, and Genevieve realized with some surprise that his eyes were actually lilac.
Mr. Daniels swallowed and shook his head slowly.
“Didn’t think so. My building, my office, my secretary. You respect them. You don’t get to act like a toddler stomping on sandcastles.” Vincent continued towards his office door.
“Come on. Time to get this meeting over with.”
Robert Daniels slunk meekly in Vincent’s wake, and Genevieve relaxed in her seat. That could have gone worse.
She hadn’t expected Vincent to defend her—she had been fully expecting to need to fend for herself—but she wasn’t going to complain about it.
The phone rang.
“Orbital Prime. You’ve reached the office of Vincent Grimoire. How may I direct your call?” Genevieve greeted.
There was a pause as she listened. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but he’s in a meeting at the moment. Would you like me to take a message?”
Mr. Daniels stepped out of the office, paused long enough to glance at Genevieve, and then he hunched like a grouchy turtle and hustled into the elevator.
Genevieve offered him a cheerful, “Have a good evening, Mr. Daniels,” as he left.
She glanced towards the office when she realized Vincent was leaning in the doorway.
“How was your meeting?” she asked.
Vincent made an unimpressed noise.
“Well enough,” he replied.
“He agreed to help fund the next project.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?” Genevieve questioned, faintly bemused. He didn’t seem particularly pleased.
“Oh, yeah, it’s great,” he assured her.
“Nothing to worry your pretty head over, Gen. He’s just not the most pleasant to work with.”
Genevieve widened her eyes, making herself look as innocent as she could.
“Really?” she asked, sarcasm thick around the word.
“I never would have guessed.”
Vincent snorted. “I guess you already know that,” he admitted.
“Anyway, how ‘bout you order something from that Chinese place down the street?” He tossed his wallet onto the desk.
“They know my usual order, and just order whatever you want for yourself. Great. Thanks, Genesis.”
“Genevieve,” she called after him as the office door closed behind him. If he heard her, he didn’t acknowledge it, and she sighed slowly.
Things could be worse. At least he seemed to like her well enough.
The delivery boy stepped into the waiting room and paused to blink at Genevieve slowly.
“You’re not Cathy,” he finally stated, as if Genevieve was unaware of that. He coughed a second later and added, “Sorry.”
Genevieve laughed. “You’re not the first to say that today, trust me,” she replied.
“I take it Cathy worked here for quite a while.”
“Oh, yeah,” the delivery boy replied, as he set about unloading the order onto the desk.
“Pretty much since the company got its start.”
Genevieve’s eyebrows rose in surprise.
“That long?” she mused curiously.
“What made her leave, then?”
The boy shrugged. “You’re askin’ the wrong person. I just deliver food.”
He handed over the receipt, Genevieve handed over the cash and the tip, and with a jaunty wave, the delivery boy way his way back into the elevator.
Two minutes later, the office door slid open and Vincent poked his head out.
“I smell food.”
“That’s because there’s food,” Genevieve replied, as she picked up a carton of pork fried rice and a pair of chop sticks.
“Fabulous.” He picked up a pair of chopsticks and two cartons.
Before he could disappear back into his office, though, Genevieve asked a question. It seemed like a fairly harmless question in her mind.
“What
happened to Cathy?” she wondered curiously.
“Why’d she leave?”
The little of Vincent’s expression that she could see closed off. “Heh.” The short snort of laughter managed to be devoid of any humor.
“Pretty sure your job is to do your work and otherwise mind your own business.”
