by T L Osborn
Simon Says
Copyright © 2017, T.L. Osborn.
All rights reserved.
Cover Design: Gray Global Creations
Cover Model & Photographer: David Wills Photography
Editing and Formatting: Hot Tree Editing
ISBN 13 - 978-0473-44391-7
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to characters, places, events are used fictitiously. Any other names, places, events are of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to living people is purely coincidental.
All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without the express permission from the Author. All songs, song lyrics and titles are the property of the respective song writers and copyright holders.
This book is dedicated to Dr Keith Small of Wellington Hospitals Ophthalmology (Eye) Department. Without his brilliant skills and expertise this dream would never have been a reality.
Contents
1. Aria
2. Simon
3. Aria
4. Simon
5. Simon
6. Aria
7. Aria
8. Aria
9. Aria
10. Aria
11. Simon
12. Simon
13. Aria
14. Aria
15. Simon
16. Aria
17. Aria
18. Simon
19. Simon
20. Aria
21. Aria
22. Aria
23. James
24. Simon
25. Aria
26. Simon
27. Aria
28. Aria
Epilogue
Afterword
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Chapter One
Aria
I still can’t believe I got the interview. Personal Assistant to the CEO of Billington Industries. I look up at the numbers of the floors. Three… Four… Five… This is going to be one long lift ride up to the 20th floor. I’d applied for the job on a whim, after two glasses of red wine, believing I’d never even get an interview. Yet, here I stand, counting the numbers in my head.
I smooth down my blouse for the millionth time, now regretting I hadn’t put on the blue one. This white one is awful. I don’t even look the part of a PA at all. Especially with the oversised glasses I’m wearing. I look nerdy, unsophisticated, like I belong in a library, telling everyone to be quiet. Not some big fancy office building. I wouldn’t be surprised if I get laughed out of the room.
I look at the numbers again. Ten… Eleven… Twelve… The higher they climb, the more excited I become. My pulse races, my legs itching as I bounce up and down on my feet. I hate wearing stockings; they itch and I can’t scratch. The elevator slows down, only making the ride painfully slower. When it stops, I make sure we aren’t at the 20th floor.
As I flick my gaze back down, I capture the eyes of a man waiting to get into the lift. Something about him roots me in place, as all the thoughts of the upcoming interview just vanish in a blink. I’m too lost in his penetrating gaze, the way it unnerves me. He coughs lightly as he enters, though it doesn’t stop me from staring. His cropped blond hair is shiny, and his chiselled facial features are marred by a scar running from the left cheekbone, right down to his jaw. His crystal blue eyes sit behind some sleek yet sexy glasses. His lips are pink, firm, and completely kissable. I lick my own as thoughts of kissing him run through my mind. I’d totally make love with his mouth given half the chance. He smirks at me as he gazes out the corner of his eye.
Oh God! He knows I’m checking him out.
His suit is immaculate, well fitted to reveal every crevice and bulge of muscle, with a crisp white shirt and green tie. His pants are tightly wrapped around his muscular legs. A shame I can’t see his ass. I wonder if he looks half as good naked. I really want to rip his shirt open and find out.
What is wrong with me?
He is gorgeous. The sort of man I’ve only ever read about in my romance novels. Though he seems a little arrogant—he hasn’t said a word to me. Maybe he’s got one of those high-pitched squeaky voices. I smile to myself. He is probably a manager, works in an office, and has an assistant at his beck and call. Probably ends up sleeping with them too. He looks like the type who would.
“Push the button for thirty,” he says, his voice low, husky, sexy. Not squeaky as I first imagined. Made for sex. What would he sound like mid-orgasm? I need to see a doctor; there really is something wrong with me. These thoughts are hard to shake. Seems my vagina and heart have joined the band inside my head and have begun beating as one. I finally do as he ordered and press the button.
“Wrong floor,” he grumbles, leaning forward to press the right one. His cologne finally finishes what my mind started. I’m flushed. I want to pounce. I’m so not going to ace this interview today, and it’s all his fault.
Simon
What the fuck is wrong with her? Does she have a screw loose? Can’t she follow simple instructions? She seems jittery, perhaps excited. She can’t stand still. I’m unsure who she is, since I haven’t seen her around this building. The way she’s dressed seems admin. Just another admin chick. Still, she’s smoking hot.
She’s dressed in black high heels, stockings, a black skirt, a long black jacket, and a white blouse. Conservative, yet sexy. Librarian or teacher fantasy? With those glasses, librarian. Her brown hair is tied in a ponytail. I’d like to grab it, pulling her against me while I whisper sweet nothings to her. I lean back to try to get a better view of her ass, but alas, the jacket is too long. I flick my gaze back up and our eyes meet in the mirror. Her innocent emerald green stare is alluring. Watching me. Holding me prisoner. The image of pounding into her from behind in here while those beautiful eyes watch sends an unnerving shiver down my spine. It’s been a while since I’ve felt instant attraction.
I don’t like it.
She blushes as she realises I’m staring at her. The colour soft and beautiful on her skin, making her glow. “See something you like?” she asks, her sweet voice gentle, sultry, seductive.
“My reflection, but yours isn’t that bad.” I cock my head to the side in order to get a better look.
She shrugs. “You’re pretty average yourself, but I’ve seen better.”
Yeah right! She obviously has no idea who I am. I’m Simon Billington—the most eligible bachelor around town. Mr One-Night-Stand. That’s what the gossip magazines labelled me. Women serve a purpose for me. Sex. Nothing more. Most women willingly spread their legs if it means one night with me. I reckon that if I tried hard enough, this pretty one right in front of me just may do the same. In fact, I might just find out.
I slam my hand down on the lift stop button. I turn swiftly around and press her against the wall. She looks up at me to protest, but I swallow it as I devour her mouth with mine. Soft, kissable, totally lipstick-free but tasting of strawberry. I need to get laid. My cock agrees as he hardens when she begins kissing me back with a hunger I didn’t expect. Her tongue dances into my mouth as our kiss deepens.
Our mouth-tango continues while I slide my hands underneath her jacket, palming her breasts. Perfect, fucking perfect. Her nipples are hard beneath the material. She groans, grabbing my jacket and pulling me closer, demanding more. I run my hands down, over her body, and around to her ass. Might as well get a squeeze in while I’m here. Fucking exquisite. I want to see it naked. She grinds her hips into me. I need to stop this. What was a simple kiss has turned into me wanting a complete taste of her delicious body. When I break the kiss, she licks her now flushed, red lips.
“Was that average?” I let her go rougher than needed. She shrugs, trying to make out like she isn’t affected by me. She is.
I press the start button on the lift and it jumps to life. The lift stops a short time later, and the woman looks up.
“Honey, the numbers read two and zero. You know, the number twenty.” I throw her a grin.
“Thanks for the counting lesson, Big Bird.” She exits, but not before pressing all the remaining lift buttons on her way out. As the doors close, I’m left stunned and completely speechless. She’s feisty and would be a perfect PA. I don’t even know the name of my uncle’s current PA, and I don’t need to. It’s going to change. James is hiring a new one for me. When I finally arrive at the 30th floor, I find my brother, James, standing at the reception desk.
“I thought you were travelling up floors, not time zones,” he chuckles.
“Shut up. Don’t you have an interview to go to?” I ask.
“Yeah, for your new PA,” he reads over a file.
“Still working that revolving door.”
He snaps the file closed. “It wouldn’t be revolving if you just brought your other PA
with you.”
“I don’t want her coming here. I need a new PA.”
“Oh, someone hasn’t gotten laid lately.”
“Go.” I point towards the elevator. He’s right though. I haven’t gotten laid in a while.
Lara directs me into the boardroom to meet with Uncle Royce. I shake the hot librarian from my thoughts as I head in to see him. I’ve got two weeks to cram everything about his company into my head. I don’t officially start my role as CEO until July 7th, but I want to be up to speed before I begin.
We spend the afternoon going over restructures, strategies, and the general running of the business. I leave at four to head back to my other office, and I tell my secretary to hold all calls for me for the afternoon. I’ve got a lot to work through, including hiring my replacement here. I sit down at my desk and begin reading.
Aria
What a jerk! I hope he enjoyed his ‘Tour de Floors’. Who the hell did he think he was, kissing me like that? Not that the kiss wasn’t spectacular. He certainly knew how to make a woman drop her panties with a look, but that kiss set mine on fire. I wanted him to tear my clothes off and just take me. Fuck me. Own me. I was disappointed when he ended the kiss.
Who am I kidding? Hot elevator sex only ever happens in books.
Still, I’m hot, bothered, and incredibly horny. I need to shake him off. I need to concentrate. Needing a distraction, I stare out the windows of the office building directly opposite the lifts. The view of the city and waterfront is amazing.
“Miss Thompson?” a voice to my side prompts. I turn to see an elegantly dressed woman standing there. Her black hair is tied in a neat ponytail, not a strand out of place. She smiles. “I’m Lara.” She holds out a hand, which I shake.
“Good afternoon.” I smile.
“If you’d like to follow me, we can get started.”
I follow her into a small room. Floor-to-ceiling glass lines one side, and the floor is white with pale grey walls. There is a small glass table in the middle of the room. I take a seat with my back against the window. That way, I won’t get further distracted. I sit, waiting patiently.
“Mr Billington will be here shortly. Can I get you a glass of water?” Lara asks.
Mr Billington himself! My stomach lurches, my mouth dries, and I wring my hands together hard enough to cause blisters.
“Yes, please,” I reply, and Lara pours me a glass and places it down in front of me. Shakily, I pick it up, the glass freezing against my hands. As I take a sip, allowing the cool water to fill my mouth, I turn to look out the windows behind me. The click of a door latch makes me jump. Mr Billington is here. I turn, gulping. A man has entered, carrying a blue folder. Tall, lean, in a well fitted black suit. Good God! It can’t be him.
When he turns and I gaze upwards, I see short, cropped, dark brown curls, matching brown eyes, and a rather cheeky grin. Phew! It’s not him.
“Good afternoon, Miss Thompson,” he says.
I place the glass down as I stand to greet him. In my haste, I knock the water all over myself—freezing.
“I’m so sorry.” My entire body shakes and I feel myself flush.
“Accidents happen.” Mr Billington smiles as Lara wipes down my seat and the table. She hands another towel to me, and I wipe down my jacket and skirt. “Are you ready to begin?” He takes a seat.
“Now that I’ve finished turning the room into an indoor pool, yes.”
He chuckles as I sit. “Excellent, you’ve got a sense of humour.” I smile, not really knowing what to say. “Let me begin by telling you about the role here, and then I’ll ask a few questions.”
“Okay.” I clasp my hands together, gripping tightly. I can do this.
“The role of Personal Assistant here is very different from most. We run a tight ship; everything must be done on time, precisely as we ask you to do it, and we expect no complaints. You’ll be running errands, answering phone calls, and just general office jobs. Will any of this be a problem?”
I look back at Mr Billington, who is patiently waiting for me to acknowledge what he just said.
“Not a problem at all. My motto is, if I’m not doing my job right, then how are you supposed to do yours?”
He smiles. “That is a fantastic motto. So tell me, why do you think you are well suited for the position of PA?” I’m caught off guard and stare at him. “I take it you weren’t expecting to be interviewed.”
“Well no, actually, I wasn’t.” I can’t believe I’m sitting here.
“Take your time to think.”
I stare at my hands in my lap as I think of my answer. When I finally have it, I look at him. “I’m organised, punctual, and have excellent time management skills. I take pride in my work and will do any task assigned to me.”
He writes several things down. “That’s what I like to hear,” he says. “Next question. How do you handle stress?”
“Does burying my nose in a book count as an answer?” I lightly laugh. “Honestly, stress is something I try to avoid, but it usually finds me.” He laughs. It’s loud, chesty, and genuine. “But if I’m feeling overwhelmed, you’ll definitely know about it.”
“How? Will you tell me, or go postal with a shotgun?” He eyes me cautiously.
“I’ll just tell you. I wouldn’t have a clue how to handle a shotgun.” He smiles, writing several more things down.
“Honesty—another quality I admire. Okay, a situation has arisen and both my brother and I are in meetings. There is a client urgently needing to speak with us. What do you do?”
I thought the CEO is an older gentleman, but after meeting this man, I wonder if I’ve been told lies.
“There are two of you?” I blurt out, before slapping my hand over my mouth. Mr Billington laughs. “I’m so sorry. That was really rude. My answer to your question is, I would listen to their concerns and reassure them that one of you will return the call when either of you is available to do so. I would then email you both, relaying the message.”
“Excellent. Next question, I need something urgently done, but you are still finishing off work from the day before. I needed this document printed, edited, proofread, and done five minutes ago. I’m snapping at you to get it done now. What’s your first priority?”
“Obviously, the task you’ve just asked me to do. I’ll endeavour to get all assigned tasks from the day before completed within the day.” I sound like an ass-kisser.
“Are you available to stay later when required?”
“Yes.”
“Are you able to work alone and with others?”
“Yes, I enjoy both.”
“I see you’ve been employed here as a secretary to Mr Joseph Jones, one of our top managers. Tell me what made you decide to apply for the role as PA?”
“I’ve always wanted to be more than a secretary, and PA is the next step. I want a challenge.”
He arches an eyebrow. “Is that really your answer?”
“No, it�
�s not, but my real answer is horrendous. I applied after two glasses of red wine and felt like Superwoman. I didn’t expect to get an interview. I’ve never felt good enough to be a PA.”
He bursts into laughter and I feel like a fool. “I’ve said this before. I admire honesty, and yours is the best I’ve seen so far. I admire your drive and determination. You didn’t think you had a chance but applied anyway. Now look at you. That’s all the formal bullshit taken care of. Tell me about yourself. What do you like to do to relax?”
“Reading and baking. I’ve always got my nose jammed in a book or my spoon in a bowl.”
“I love home baking. It’s the best. What about family?”
“I suppose I have to stop reading occasionally to acknowledge they exist.” I grin at him. He looks astonished as his jaw drops open, eyes widening in horror. “I’m kidding. I love spending time with family and friends.”
He smiles. I can’t help but notice it’s a wider one than any of the previous. I must be doing great.
“Do you have any questions for me?” he asks.
“None I can think of at the moment.”
“Excellent. I think that’s about it for the interview. On behalf of Billington Industries Ltd., I’d love to offer you the job if you’d like it.”
I stare at him. He smiles.
“You’re joking.” He’s crazy offering me the job now.
“No, not joking. By far, you’re the best candidate for the role.” He folds his hands on the table.
“Yes, I’d love the job. But only if you’re sure.”
