by Darcy Kent
Shit, sometimes I’m so fucking blind. This is why she didn’t want to go home and was looking at the price tags of the dresses. Not because I was buying them, but because she was accustomed to checking the price of everything.
“Roger, how will I know which one she’s in?”
He buzzes back/ “Floor eight. Room eight-sixty.”
Fuck there’s a room eight hundred and sixty. I decide to fill another glass of bourbon and then head up there. As I shut the limo door, I wonder if I should have brought some safety measures with me. Like the gun that I keep in the trunk.
How does Olivia survive?
I decide against it as I start to head up the stairs. When I reach the front door there’s an eviction notice, or a condemned notice. I don’t settle my eyes on it long enough as I open it and step through.
The smell of mold and wet dogs filters through my nose, and I almost want to run back around.
Elevator out of service. I laugh at the irony of it; the whole fucking building looks as if it’s out of service, but people still live here. Guilt washes inside me at the realization that I didn’t even bother checking on Olivia. I feel like a jerk. But I know that from this moment onwards, I intend to make everything right.
Chapter Nine
Olivia
Another dead end day going to the agency and hoping for a job. I’ve been in every diner this side of town to the district. No one has anything unless you’ve got experience. I’ve sold the designer jeans, part of me felt guilty for doing it and the other part knows I did it out of survival. I’ve been doing things that I’m not necessarily proud of ever since I came here. It’s time to make a change.
I should have come clean and just told Andrew about my past and my living situation, and asked him for help. That’s what I intend to do tomorrow morning. I know where he lives; hopefully he’ll be in and listen to me.
He has to listen.
I need help and I’m not afraid to admit it. Not anymore. Only a fool would continue living like this, because I have to carry the designer clothes with me every day. I saw one of the girls looking at them as if they were a prize jewel. I knew if I’d left them they would be gone.
I start to head up the stairs and take off my heels. The same thing I used to do every day when I worked in his office. It was only for two weeks, but it felt like heaven at the time. The idea of not having to spend all day walking on the streets or even here, listening to a baby crying or one of the girls talking about a job that they’re going to tonight.
I think that’s part of the reason that they don’t like me. It’s clear a couple of the girls work the streets. And the others maybe strip clubs. I don’t want to work that kind of life and I suppose to them, I’m a snob.
I’m not. I just don’t want to sell my body for money. I felt as if I did that with Andrew and I felt guilty about it, but this would be different. I would be asking him for help, not sexual favors.
As soon as I open the door, I can’t believe who’s sitting on my bed.
Eight floors, I’m tired, exhausted and his name has been on my mind all the way up the stairs, “Andrew!”
He glances up. “So. Remember what I said about asking for help.” His voice is soft, and it frightens me. It’s as if he’s hurting just by seeing me live like this.
I nod my head, my eyes as big as saucers.
“Well, it starts here and now. You’re not spending another night here.”
“Who let you in?” I ask in my defense.
He stands up and says, “Someone who wanted fifty dollars.”
I nod. “Figures; money talks in this place.”
I can't believe that Andrew's in my room. I want to run out of here and pretend I don't live here.
I’m embarrassed.
“Which is a lot more than you ever did, Olivia. Get what’s dear to you and I’ll wait outside. You’re not staying here again. Do you understand?”
I want to tell him that it’s been a whole week, that I haven’t heard anything from him. I want to say to him that he has no right to come here and tell me how to live. I want to tell him all the things that my stupid pride would come out and say, but a tear escapes my eye as I say the only thing that should be on the tip of my tongue, at the front of my head, “Thank you.”
He kisses me on the forehead as he passes me by and says, “Don’t thank me. Just get what you need.”
I do that without thinking twice. One of the girls looks at me and apart from my ID which is in my purse, I don’t need anything else. I throw one of the designer shirts to the right, to a girl that’s around the same age as me, and to the left I throw the dress. Neither of them say thank you. They wouldn’t because they’re just the way I used to be. They think that they don’t need anyone. But I just want to know that I’ve helped them, whether they like it or not. I’m going to a new life, I’ll work hard, but I won’t live like this anymore, because I don’t want to. I deserve more. I know I do.
Chapter Ten
Andrew
It feels good having Olivia by my side. I’m such an idiot for waiting so long to look for her. Seeing the way she lived, the people she shared a room with, my heart opened. So much more than it ever has before.
I’d never felt like this before.
Never have I wanted a woman so much.
We enter the limo, and Olivia grabs my hand. “Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me anymore. I was an idiot for taking so long to come after you. I’m sorry.”
“Why did you take so long?” She smiles and it captivates me.
I run a hand along my jaw. “Work. I’ve been having a hell of a week with Roberta.”
“Oh really? Why?” She’s cute how she angles her body to face me.
I squeeze her hand. “She’s spreading rumors about me. She’s also trying to steal my clients. Telling them awful things, and some have already considered leaving.”
“That’s horrible.” She glances out the window.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you left,” I say in a still, small voice.
She turns toward me. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you either.”
I lean into kiss her, our tongues tracing along each other. I’ve missed her.
“A thought occurred to me when you mentioned Roberta stealing clients,” she says.
“Really?”
“Well, last week there was an odd phone call. From a Mr. Peters,” she starts.
“Yes, I know Paul Peters.” My mind is intrigued.
Peters has always been a friend, but maybe Roberta got to him. I haven’t spoken to him since the party.
“Yes, well he said he had some very important files for you to look over. I forwarded them to your email.”
“Hm, I don’t remember.” The fact I never saw her email concerns me. Does Roberta have my email password? Did she find these files? Is that how she’s undercut me the past week?
“Mr. Peters said you would definitely find them interesting as they were about an ex. At the time I didn’t know what he meant. I just scribbled down the message and sent the files.”
“Why didn’t he send them to me himself?”
“He didn’t say. He was being very cryptic. But, I didn’t really think much of it at the time.”
I kiss her hand. “I spent many nights at Roberta’s place. She could have access to my email easily.”
She glances down to her lap. “Well, the files should still be in your assistant’s email. I never deleted it.”
“You’re a genius.”
I press the intercom and tell Roger to head to work instead.
I want to see these files. If Peters has dirty information on Roberta this could be the thing to ruin her.
We head inside my company building, and take the elevator all the way up to my office.
Joanne’s eyes widen when we step through the doors.
“Hi, I didn’t expect to see you back today.”
“We need a file off of
your computer.”
I bring up the file, and am shocked by what I see.
Peters was able to find Roberta’s company holdings, and some very shady business deals she was involved in.
I copy the files to a flash drive and call my business partner.
One quick stop to his office, and then Olivia and I head back to my place.
“You’re exactly what I want,” I tell her later in the evening.
“This is like a dream come true for me.” Her eyes are bright, and her smile is wide.
“No, it’s like a dream for me. I want you to move in with me.”
She gasps. “Really?”
“Yes. I want to spoil you in all the ways you’ve never known.”
She hugs me, and I sweep her off her feet. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes.”
I set her back down, and she smiles bigger than I’ve ever seen. It takes my breath away.
“Yes.”
Epilogue
Olivia
Everything has changed in my life over the last three months. I managed to tell Andrew about the real reason I came to live in the city — to get away from my abusive dad. He wanted me to press charges and I wanted to get on with my life.
The life I have with him.
It was difficult at first, because we thought I would move in temporarily and then get my own place. It never worked out that way, because the more time we spend apart, the more we wanted to spend it together.
Today, I can only think of one thing. Getting down and dirty with my boss. It turns out that Joanne had a lot more wrong with her ankle and it wasn't healing at the rate that the doctors had predicted it should do. Well, it was only one year, but the way she was acting, anyone would have thought that she was retiring so many years early.
“I’m coming,” I shout over the intercom, knowing we’re alone in the office. It’s been three months I’ve been his secretary and we’re officially an item. Now, I’m respected in the office, everyone invites me to lunch and no longer do I overhear them talking about him behind my back. No one can talk about how hot he is because he’s mine.
I walk in slowly and he growls, “Ms. Turner, are you ready to take notes?”
I slam the door shut and then I lift up my skirt. “I forgot to put on panties today. You’re going to have to punish me.”
He sighs. “It seems that you’ll need a good spanking.”
I purr. “Oh if you need to spank me, please be gentle.”
I’m bent over his desk and I moan as he starts to feel my butt cheeks. I know that he wants to take out his paddle and give it to me, the same way he does every Friday night. There’s something about office romances that makes it much more exciting when you not only have sex out of the office, but in the office too.
We love playing the boss and virgin at night. It makes our relationship that much more exciting, especially now his ex is out of the picture. He’s stress free. I sent her some photos of us in the office and when she found out that we were living together it sent her over the edge. Andrew didn’t know how to get rid of her. Luckily, he has a secretary who did!
Thank you for reading Billionaire Boss’s Virgin Secretary
Darcy Kent writes the sexy tales you’ll dream about at night. She lives in Texas with her two dogs and one cat.
Oh, and her husband.
She loves to read about sexy alphas, but she enjoys writing about them more.
Her next book A Seal Of Fate releases June 22nd.
Sign up for her newsletter so you don’t miss a thing: http://eepurl.com/cQ62bT
SEAL OF FATE
BONUS NOVELLA
Chapter One
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“Fuck my life,” I said, sighing.
I’d been working in this nightclub for a few months now, and as I glance down at my soaked shirt, I cursed again.
The beat was loud, the lights dim, and everyone was screaming at me for more drinks. Ah, the life of a cocktail waitress- how exciting. Only it wasn’t. This job served one purpose, to make money. Where else could you work five hours and walk away with two-hundred bucks, best part…I didn’t have to take off my clothes.
Although right now I needed to take off my shirt. I’d been doused in beer, whiskey, and whatever else was on my fucking tray when some snooty moron bumped into me with both elbows as she tried to get jiggy with it. The tray knocked over and all drinks landed on me. I debated whether to get the bartender to make my drinks again, or if I should change my shirt first.
Normally on a busy Friday night the bar had two bartenders, right now I only saw one and who knows where the other one ran off to.
I walked to the break area where I had an extra work shirt in my locker. Like I said, I’d worked here for a few months, and was saving money to leave town. New York City and me just didn’t agree. I was born and raised here, and wanted more than anything to end up in a small town in the middle of nowhere. Although, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to handle that either. What could I handle? My life was a downright mess. My father claimed it was because I failed out of college, but community college got boring and working nights at another club downtown, those eight a.m. classes got harder and harder to attend.
I loved working here, fast action, fast money. The only thing that sucked was the customers. Snooty women coming to party, drink, and get laid. Men who just wanted to get laid. It was a meet market of meet markets.
Everyone who worked here was nice, except for one of the bartenders who pretty much spent his time hitting on anything with a vagina.
He was the reason most women came here in the first place. Ryder Drake. Playboy and a good looking one at that. His dark hair was trimmed short. His deep blue eyes were the kind people wrote songs about. His body was perfect, fit and solid and was most likely chiseled by God himself. He was the epitome of every woman’s fantasy. Except mine.
When I first started I will admit, he put his lame ass moves on me, which of course didn’t work. I wasn’t into a wham, bam, thank you ma’am type of ordeal. I wasn’t looking for a long term commitment either, but I did abide by one rule, don’t be someone’s one night stand…especially if you work with them.
So, after I turned him down-he ignored me. Which was just fine with me. I had a boyfriend, kind of. Okay, I had my own personal fuck buddy, but Grant was cool. He did his thing, I did mine-sometimes we would do them together.
So, as I walked further into the back area of the bar, I stumbled through the darkened hallways. The loud beat of the club echoed off the cool tiled walls. The smell of beer hung in the air, and floated down the corridor with me. I didn’t know if I was producing the smell or if it had always smelled this way. My shoes slushed along the sopping wet floor as I came to the door at the end of the hall. My locker was just beyond, and I couldn’t wait to get out of this ridiculously wet shirt and back to work.
Opening the door, I was blinded by what I saw. In the middle of the room was the employee break table where we would all eat our lunch, or should I say dinner. Pounding his way to fruition was no other than the sexy god-like bartender, Ryder Drake. The girl he was so vigorously slamming himself into was the same skank who had yelled at me for giving her the wrong drink earlier in the night.
She was face down, leaning over the table and Ryder was behind her holding her head down. The expression on his face was one of boredom, with maybe a hint of pleasure wrapped into his gorgeous features.
My heart slammed into my chest, and I couldn’t turn away. Why couldn’t I turn the fuck around? I’ll tell you why, for some odd reason there was a foreign sensation traveling through my body into my core. The way he worked her body and rammed himself in and out of her made my cheeks flush.
Not a moment later his eyes locked with mine, zapping the air with a charged energy connecting us and his sensual lips curved into a smile. The woman he was fucking was oblivious to our encounter, and I could barely
make out her muffled cries of enjoyment.
Eyes connected with Ryder, I tried again to turn away. Why was my traitorous body not cooperating? I'll tell you why, cause for some asinine reason it was turning me on.
He pumped her a few more times and then squeezed his eyes shut, moaning, “Helena,” as his orgasm raced through his body.
At the sound of his voice, and the name that fell from his lips, I stumbled back into the darkened hallway. The door slammed shut, and I raced to collect myself. Stumbling over my own two feet, I couldn’t get the image of him and her together out of my mind. What shocked me even more was the name he expelled from his lips, my name.
Helena’s my name. Nice to meet you. Helena Madison, that’s me. The same Helena who minutes before, Ryder was calling out mid-orgasm.
Fuck is right. Still clothed in the wet shirt, I made my way back over to the bar, picked up my drinks and placed them on the tray. Now what?
My mind was still reeling over what I just witnessed. And then as if by magic, Ryder appeared right behind me.
“Hey,” he said into my ear, sending a shiver down my neck, down my spine and all over my skin.
I cringed my whole body outward and walked away with my tray in hand. Don’t you dare look back, don’t look back.
A moment of weakness overcame me, and I glanced back.
His sexy hot, eyes were trained on me. He smiled, producing a dimple on both cheeks, and my heart melted. Or leapt into my chest, whichever gets you going that’s how I felt. My name on his lips still echoed through my mind.
I continued throughout the busy Friday night shift. Delivering drinks, brushing off old, drunk men with cigars and bourbon in hand as they tried to pick me up. “Your legs are so long. Your hair is the color of rain on a sunny day.” Like I said they were drunk. Rain on a sunny day? What color is that? My hair was a deep chestnut brown, with hints of purple I’d dyed into it not long ago.
