A Billionaire Punishes Part 1 (Erotic Romance)

by Nic Saint

  Description: Erin Gould works as a customer service agent for Flowers For You, an online flower delivery business run by ruthless businesswoman Celeste Carter. When a competitor launches Hearts & Flowers and starts nibbling away market share, Celeste arranges for Erin to get hired by the newcomer and steal their innovative web design. The moment Erin meets Remington Carswell, the handsome billionaire owner of Hearts & Flowers, an instant and unexpected attraction between them ruins whatever plans she had. But when Remington finds out Erin’s secret mission, he sets up a punishment that will either break her, or give her so much pleasure, she just might have to beg him never to stop.

  Length: This is the first part in the 3-part A Billionaire Punishes serial, about secretary Erin Gould and her unexpected romantic entanglement with her billionaire boss Remington Carswell. 15,110 words. Two more parts follow this first part, and the three parts will also be bundled into a novel.

  The first novel in this series (also serialized) is A Billionaire Invites - Templeton, about Remington’s older brother. More stories in the Carswell family saga will follow.

  Spice Level: very spicy, with frequent, graphic sex scenes.

  A Billionaire Punishes

  A Billionaire Invites - Remington - Part 1

  Nic Saint

  Copyright © 2014 by Nic Saint. All rights reserved.

  Published by Nic Saint (Smashwords Edition).

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author or publisher.

  Chapter 1

  “Hey, Erin. Check this out.”

  The voice belonged to Tamara, my co-worker and best friend, and intruded on a perfectly good daydream I’d been entertaining about my online cupcake store. Not that I had an online cupcake store. But God willing, one day I would have. I hoped. I guess that’s why they call it a daydream, right?

  I dragged myself over to Tamara’s cubicle and followed her pointing finger. All I could see on the screen were flowers. Lots of them. And since flowers were all I saw all day anyway, I groaned.

  “Flowers,” I said. “Big deal.”

  She fixed me with those shiny eyes of hers. “But this is not our site. This is the new kid in town. And he’s kicking ass.”

  She pointed again, and I squinted at the URL. “Um, heartsandflowers dot com. So? Everybody and their mother-in-law have a flower site these days.”

  “Only this one is going through the roof. They just started three months ago and already their business has quintupled. Or sextupled. Or whatever. They’re selling more flowers than we do now.”

  “Great,” I said, not interested. “At least when Celeste goes belly-up, we know where to send our résumés.”

  “They say it’s run by one of the Carswells,” Tamara continued, still sounding like an excited puppy.

  I frowned. “The Carswells? Who are those? Some new band?”

  She punched me playfully on the arm. It hurt. Tamara is a big woman compared to me—well, that isn’t saying much, of course, since I’m pretty much a midget.

  “You’ve never heard of the Carswells?”

  “No,” I said defensively, rubbing the sore spot. “Should I?”

  “Yes, you should,” she said emphatically. “They’re only one of richest families in the country.”

  “So?” I still wasn’t interested. So what if they were rich? Didn’t make much difference to me. I was still dirt poor.

  “So? So imagine what happens if a Carswell goes into the flower business. All the other competitors can pretty much pack it in. Remember what happened to bookstores once Amazon got up to speed?”

  “I still don’t see why I should care,” I said. “So a new online flower retailer starts up. So he’s going gangbusters. Yay for him. Or her. What do we care? We’ll still be working our asses off listening to unreasonable customers ranting and raging and giving us shit morning, noon and night.”

  Tamara leaned in, her eyes scanning left and right for eavesdroppers. I gave her an eyeroll but leaned in anyway, deciding to humor the poor sap.

  “What?” I said in a low voice.

  “I know someone who knows someone who works for one of their suppliers,” she whispered. “She tells me Hearts & Flowers treat their staff like royalty. Bigger paycheck, better working hours, and their website and distribution are all top of the line so practically no disgruntled customers.”

  “Sounds like a dream,” I said, thinking of the way Celeste was running Flowers For You, the company we were working for.

  “Doesn’t it?” she said brightly. “That’s why I’ve applied for a job there.”

  “You did what?” I said, appalled. “You’re leaving me in this… hell hole?”

  “No,” she added, her voice dropping to a whisper once more. “I’ve applied for the both of us. Isn’t that neat?” And she gave a little squeal of excitement.

  “Tamara!” I said, my mouth dropping open. “You did not!”

  “I did too! And I suggest we make a pact right now that it’s either the both of us or neither. Like a package deal, you know what I mean?”

  I was still too busy staring at her, stunned, to think of a reply.

  “I knew you would be thrilled,” she said. “Of course, since I just sent the message last night, don’t expect an answer immediately.”

  “I’m speechless,” I said, plunking my bony tush down on her desk. “You just put me up for a job without even asking?”

  She shrugged. “I know you hate it here as much as I do, so it was a no-brainer, really. Now when we’re invited for our job interviews, I think it’s important we give them the same story. Let’s meet at Marcy’s so we can discuss.”

  “But, Tamara!” I cried—but just then her phone hummed and she quickly tapped her headset.

  “Flowers For You this is Tamara Dunkle speaking how can I help you?” she rambled off, giving me a cheeky wink.

  I returned to my seat and saw that I’d missed two calls while I was chatting with my friend. Celeste would definitely chew my ass off. Every dropped call showed up on the daily stats and had to be justified. Oh, hell. Perhaps Tamara was right. Time to get out of this hell hole and land ourselves another job. Flowers For You was pretty much the worst employer I’d ever had, so any job was probably an improvement.

  Then my phone dinged and I sighed, before putting on my cheeriest voice and singing, “Flowers For You good afternoon this is Erin speaking how can I help you?”

  “My office. Now,” a voice barked into the headset, then disconnected, and I felt an instant adrenaline rush coursing through my veins. Celeste. Yikes, what had I screwed up now?

  Ten seconds later I entered the big boss’s lair at the end of the hall, my heart in my throat and my voice reduced to a squeak. Celeste always had that effect on me.

  “You called me?” I squeaked.

  “Erin. Come in. Sit down,” she grunted.

  Celeste was sitting behind her desk with her feet up and a pensive expression on her face. I wasn’t exactly sure how old she was—could have been twenty-eight or thirty-eight—but she wasn’t as ugly as her no-nonsense personality indicated. For a ball-breaker, she looked rather pretty, even attractive, if you’re into the dominatrix thing. She was all hard features, raccoon mascara, thin lips, raven hair and a pair of gigantic boobs that she liked to put on display in low cut blouses.

  I t
ook a seat in front of her, nervously wringing my hands. It’s one thing to dream of landing another job, but quite a different one to be given the boot, which was I’d come to expect every single time I was called into her office like this. I had no idea what I’d done wrong, but I was sure I was about to find out in the worst possible way.

  “Erin,” she said, glaring at me. “I was checking your résumé just now.”

  Oh, Lord, this was it. She was going to kick me out.

  “I noticed that you used to work as a secretary for…” She checked something on her screen. “Lupus International.”

  I nodded vigorously. “Shoes,” I squeaked. “I worked for one of the managers.”

  “Were you any good?” she said.

  “Erm… Sure,” I said, wondering where this was going.

  She grunted what I interpreted as an approval. “I’ve got a job for you,” she said, swiveling a bit in her office chair, then adjusting her dress, revealing a bit more cleavage. Damn those boobs. I wondered for the umpteenth time if she’d had them worked on; no woman has boobs like that. At least not if she’s human. Perhaps Celeste came from another planet?

  I blinked. What did she just say? “Um… What?”

  “We have a new competitor.” She tapped her keyboard, then turned her computer screen to me, showing me the exact same home page Tamara had been gushing over. “Hearts & flowers. Opened up three months ago and already they’ve swallowed up thirty percent of our market share. Thirty fucking percent!”

  “That’s not good,” I mumbled, though inwardly I cheered for those pesky H&F people. Go, Carswell, whoever you are.

  “Damned right it’s not good. They’ve got the most innovative site design in the business. Must have cost them a fortune in R&D.”

  She tapped her long nails on her blotter, studying me closely. I wilted under her scrutiny, like a delicate flower in the hot sun.

  “How do you feel about corporate espionage, Erin?” she suddenly said, her eyes narrowing.

  “Um, it’s illegal?” I said tentatively.

  “Illegal shmegal,” she scoffed. “Look, this Carswell character is dishonest. You can’t just come in and wreck established businesses like that. He’s not playing it fair and square. He’s thrown his family’s billions at this new hobby of his and it’s costing us customers. Every. Goddamned. Day.” She hammered her desk with her fist to emphasize these words, and I shrank a bit more with every smack.

  “That’s why I’ve managed for you to go over there and find out as much as you can about his business, more particularly his website.”

  “What?” I said weakly.

  “Tomorrow morning you’re starting as Remington Carswell’s new private secretary. A little birdie told me the old one left her post and he urgently needs a new slave. I pulled some strings and bam! You’re it.”

  “I’m… the slave…” I repeated, dazed and confused.

  She fixed me with a glare, wagging a long black-nailed fingernail in my face. “If you breathe a word about this to anyone, I’m coming after you with all that I’ve got, understood?”

  “Yes, Celeste,” I said meekly.

  “Good girl. I knew I could rely on you. Now let’s talk details.”

  For at least an hour, she explained to me all the intricacies of her devious plan to steal the secret success formula that lay at the core of Hearts & Flowers, so she could implement it at Flowers For You and drive Carswell, “and the friggin’ horse he rode in on”, out of business so fast he’d never knew what hit him. Well, I knew what was going to hit him. Apparently I was.

  Chapter 2

  “While you’re over there, put in a good word for me, will you?” said Tamara, a little breathless. “Or better yet. You can probably access their personnel files. Give mine a makeover so that I come out as the top candidate. That way we’ll be working at the same company!”

  “We won’t be working at the same company, Tamara,” I said. “Because I’ll be in jail and you’ll get canned when Celeste is forced to declare bankruptcy!”

  We were convening at Marcy’s, a coffee shop that doubles as our after-work whine and dine hangout—lately more whining than dining I must confess, for neither Tamara or I were very happy with our work situation.

  “As always you’re just being negative,” she said with a dismissive wave of the hand.

  A waitress came over, wrongly interpreting Tamara’s gesture as a sign we were ready to order. It was the same perky emo girl with the black hair, black make-up, black clothes and three nose piercings who was always on duty around this time of day.

  “What can I get you girls?” she said, chewing away at a piece of gum.

  “A double whisky. On the rocks,” I said, holding my head in both heads to prevent it from exploding.

  “Double whisky on the rocks,” murmured the punky girl, scribbling something on an order pad.

  “Just kidding,” I quickly said. Did they even have whisky in this place? Perhaps to spike the coffee?

  “Oh, ha ha,” she said. “I didn’t get that. Good one, Erin. Keeping me on my toes, right?”

  “Right,” I said, watching her nose wriggle with some envy. What an easy life she had. Socializing with customers. Serving coffee and buns. No crazy boss demanding she break the law… “Are you by any chance hiring?” I said.

  “Oh, you want to work here? I’ll go and ask Marcy,” she said, and scooted off.

  “She was just kidding again!” shouted Tamara, but the girl had disappeared into the kitchen.

  “Perhaps I should work here,” I said. “I like coffee. And buns. And perhaps I’ll meet a dark, handsome stranger who seduces me over a cup of hot mocha frappuccino.”

  “Oh, come on,” said Tamara. “This is the chance of a lifetime you got here. And served on a silver platter no less.”

  “I don’t see it that way,” I said, resting my head on the table, wishing someone would come and chop it off. Put me out of my misery.

  “Way I see it, you’ve got it made, girl. You’ll be playing private secretary to some billionaire playboy, make him fall in love with you, get married, move in together and live happily ever after. Just think about me when you’re sailing away on your private yacht will you?”

  I lifted my head just enough to register astonishment. “You’re nuts, Tamara, did you know that?”

  “I beg to differ. You’re the one with brain damage around here, if you can’t see this for what it is: the big break you’ve been waiting for.”

  I stared at her. I knew my friend could be a scatterbrained nutcase sometimes, but I’d never realized how far from reality she had drifted. Time to put her with both feet back in the real world.

  “Look. Celeste has ordered me to spy on this Carswell character, right?”

  “Right,” she said with a big smile.

  “Corporate espionage is punishable by law, so if Carswell catches me, I’m done for. You with me so far?”

  The emo girl had returned, biting her lip. “Marcy says she’s not hiring unless she kicks me out.” She shrugged. “Sorry about that.”

  “That’s all right,” I said. “I was just kidding.”

  “Oh! Ah! Ha ha! I so didn’t get that. You’re a real hoot tonight, Erin.”

  “Thanks,” I said, not feeling particularly hooty.

  She left, then returned, set down our order, and left again, still chuckling at my hootiness.

  “Where were we?” I said. “Oh, right. We’d just reached the conclusion that spying on other people is illegal. Unless you’re the government. Then it’s perfectly fine. But since I’m not the government…”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” Tamara said, taking a sip from her hot cocoa with extra foam—Tamara just loves hot cocoa, summer or winter. “He’s gonna fall in love with you.”

  “You’ve lost me there,” I said. “Why would some—to quote your own words—‘billionaire playboy’ fall in love with a homely old secretary? You’ve been reading Barbara Cartland again, haven’t yo
u, you hopeless romantic, you.”

  Tamara is one of those women whose Kindle is always filled to the brim with romance novels, whereas I’m more the hardboiled police procedural type of gal.

  “Wrong,” she said. “I’m reading Nora right one, but that’s not the point. Will you look at yourself?”

  I directed my gaze downward, taking in my pink shirt and blue jeans combo. “Uh-huh?” I said, not getting the point.

  “You’re not a homely old secretary, Erin! You’re a hot, young, sexy, happenin’ babe!

  “I’m a happenin’ babe?” I said skeptically.

  “Just like me. We’re both happenin’ babes, hot to trot!”

  “Hm,” I said, taking a sniff from her cocoa. “Are you sure this is cocoa and not cocaine?”

  “Look at me.”

  I threw her a reluctant gaze. She looked pretty much the same as usual: a big girl with a ginormous chest—all natural she had assured me on more than one occasion—a tangle of dark curly hair framing a round face, and cherry red lips—the cherry not her own making but from the lip gloss she liked to apply in some abundance.

  Body type wide, we were polar opposites. Whereas she was round in all the right places, I was skinny all over, and flat-chested to boot. Whereas she wore her hair Oprah Winfrey style—abundant—I liked to wear my bright red mane in a bob. And whereas her skin was the color of the cocoa she loved so much, I was pale and freckled, especially around my tilt-tipped nose.

  “Don’t you think I’m gorgeous?” she said with a pout.

  My gaze dropped to her generous bosom—I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I have a thing for boobs, perhaps because mine are practically nonexistent—and I found myself nodding automatically.

  “Yep, you are definitely what every guy looks for in a girl,” I said.

  She gave her boobs a bit of a wiggle, and grinned. “That’s not what I’m talking about, though you’re right. My puppies are fine.”