by C L Cruz
Dirty Boss
Bad Bosses, Book Three
C.L. Cruz
Dirty Boss Copyright © 2020 by C.L. Cruz. All Rights Reserved.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Cover designed by Liz Fox
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
C.L. Cruz
Visit my website at www.clcruz.com
Join Us
Join our reader group: Short, Sweet, & Steamy Romances.
Sign up to C.L. Cruz’s Newsletter.
Claim Your Free Read
Dani
I have a habit of falling for men who are unattainable. It’s how I keep myself from getting hurt—if nothing ever starts, nothing can ever end. But when I end up with my boss, Harrington Abbot, at an out-of-town conference and we finally get to know each other outside of the office, sparks fly. Maybe it’s time to finally take a risk and choose love over security, even if it might mean getting my heart broken.
Quick Trip is a steamy, standalone, office romance novella.
Click here to claim your copy NOW!
CONTENTS
Join Us
Claim Your Free Read
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Epilogue
Also by C.L. Cruz
About the Author
Sinful Boss by Liz Fox
Chapter One
Tobias
“Would it kill you to go out on a date?”
My father’s voice rings out over the loudspeaker in my office just as Ross, my assistant, opens the door.
I roll my eyes and wave him in, motioning for him to shut the door behind him. The last thing I need is the entire staff of Hartigan & Kline to know my father’s opinions on my love life.
Ross shuts the door and then crosses through my sitting area until he stands in front of my desk holding up a shiny strip of lavender silk.
Eyeing it, I respond to my father. “Do I really want to date a girl who auctions herself off? Has it come to that?”
“It’s for a good cause,” he says. “If you don’t get a move on and produce some heirs, everything we’ve worked for will pass down to Benjamin Talbot, and that—”
“Careful, Dad. He’s your son-in-law now.” Then, as my dad starts in on a rampage about my sister marrying a Talbot, I whisper to Ross, “Why purple?”
He studies the tie and then says in an equally low voice, “It’s lavender.”
“Why lavender, then?”
“It’s a benefit for cancer research.” At my blank look, he adds, “Lavender is the color of cancer awareness. It’s also the color of all the girls’ dresses.”
“Why do I want to match the girls’ dresses?” I hiss.
“Because one of them will be your date!” my father answers for him.
Ross holds a hand out to the phone. “Exactly.”
Both of them are insufferable.
I move to stand in front of Ross, and he flips up my collar. He’s worked for me long enough to know that I have no patience for tying ties unless it’s around the wrists of some very willing women, and that’s a different kind of knot entirely. Because of that, he’s learned every knot there is and now has fingers of gold. We joke that I can never let him go because I would never find someone else to tie such lovely nooses around my neck. The truth is, I would never let him go anyway, because he’s become one of my only real friends, even if we do only see each other at work.
Sometimes, it’s lonely at the top.
“Maybe you won’t find your soulmate, but at the very least, make a sizable donation. It will look good for Hartigan and Kline, and it’s tax deductible.”
“That’s my dad. Heart of gold,” I say.
“At least I have a heart, son.”
“My mother might say otherwise.”
Ross laughs as he finishes the knot on the bow tie and flips my collar back down.
My dad isn’t cowed. Before he ends the call, he makes sure to get in one more jab. “Meet a nice girl. Have a little fun for once in your life.”
Have a little fun? When does he expect me to have a little fun? My little sister has had enough fun for the both of us while I’ve been busy taking over the family business and then taking care of her. My dad raised me in his image while leaving Josie to her own devices once he saw she didn’t fit the perfect debutante mold. That only meant I had to work twice as hard.
But she’s settled down now, someone else’s problem. Maybe it is time for me to start looking for wife number one. Or maybe that just means I have more time to devote to expanding Hartigan and Kline. Deciding which option is easier and more financially beneficial is simple. Finding a woman who can satisfy me emotionally and sexually—not likely to happen.
The girls in my world—the heiresses and debutantes and pampered princesses—want boring, vanilla sex. They want to be married, bred, and then left alone to attend brunches and society functions until they eventually divorce you and take half your money and one hundred percent of your pride.
But the ones I want? I want loyalty and passion. I want someone who will give themselves to me willingly—mind and body—but then stands beside me in life as my equal, where we will support each other and hold each other up. A true partner.
I’m beginning to think that women like that don’t exist.
I study myself in the mirror as Ross slips my black tuxedo jacket over my shoulders and brushes them off with a lint roller.
“Looking good, boss,” he says.
“Good enough to give away some money?”
“I didn’t know there was a dress code for that,” he quips as he returns the hanger to the wardrobe and pushes the door closed.
“When you have as much money as my family does, there’s a dress code for everything.”
Ross rolls his eyes and follows me out of my office, stopping at his desk to pick up his messenger bag before joining me at the elevators. The offices of Hartigan and Kline own the entire building—all forty-seven stories—and my office is on the very top floor. Sometimes it’s a pain waiting for the elevator all the way up here, but I like being on top, and the view is nice.
The elevator finally arrives, and the two of us get on together.
Ross pushes the button for the lobby and then turns to me. “Don’t forget your meeting tomorrow at eight.”
“With the property investors,” I confirm. “Got it.”
“And make sure you say hi to Nina.”
I look up from my phone where I’m checking my emails. “Who?”
He sighs, exasperated. “Nina. Nina Rodriguez. She’s a data entry clerk downstairs.” Downstairs is H&K speak for anyone not on the executive level. If you’re not up here, it doesn’t really matter which level you’re on. “It’s her family who started the date auction, for her little sister who has leukemia. It’s why it’s important that you be there—to show your support for the H&K family.”
Right. “What does she look like? Nina, not the sister.”
He raises his eyebrows, then holds his hands in front of his chest, I’m guessing to signal tits, and then behind himself, probably
to signal ass.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Seriously?”
He nods. “Seriously. Also, brown hair, brown eyes, brown skin. Pretty.”
“Pretty and stacked. Got it.” I imagine he’s exaggerating. There’s no way someone like that never crossed my radar at work. Is there?
The elevator deposits us in the lobby, and we part ways, Ross taking the south exit for the train station, and me going to the front door where Chuck, my driver, is waiting with the car.
“To the Monolith, sir?” he asks when I slide in.
“You got it.”
As he pulls out into traffic, I take the metal flask from inside my jacket and take a sip of whiskey. It’s going to be a long night, but it’s just one more thing to do in my long list of obligations. In a few hours, I’ll be able to check it off the list, go to the club to blow off some steam, and then maybe go home to catch a couple hours of sleep. Then, I’ll get up, head back to work, and start all over again.
It just doesn’t get much better than this.
Chapter Two
Nina
“I cannot believe you dropped out!” My Aunt Camila bursts into the makeshift dressing room, her lavender tea-length dress swirling around her calves. Behind her trails my cousin Penny, wearing a black dress with a lavender ribbon pinned near the shoulder.
I snap my smutty romance book closed and hide it beneath a tabloid magazine, trying not to look too guilty. It was just getting to the good part, involving a silk necktie, a blindfold, and an ice cube, so hopefully my flushed cheeks don’t give me away. My family thinks I’m a good, innocent girl. The fact that I have dreams of being tied down and fucked six ways from Sunday would blow their minds. And I’d rather they not know, so there’s that.
But the two women are too absorbed in each other to give me another look.
“Tia, I’m literally here with a date. A man I love very much.”
“Love?” our aunt scoffs. “You barely know him. It will never last.”
“We’re getting married,” Penny interjects. She and her boyfriend, Johnny, have been hot and heavy since they met just a few months ago.
Camila ignores her, plucking at her sleeve. “And you couldn’t even wear lavender.”
Penny whirls on me and her voice goes saccharine sweet as her patience thins. “Because I had to give my dress to my lovely replacement.” She walks over and stands beside me, petting my hair. “Who is beautiful and single.”
“And a size bigger than you,” I add, eyeing the dress still on its hanger. It’s short, sleeveless, and fits like a glove. I don’t want to risk ripping it, so I’m not putting it on until the last possible minute.
Camila, the youngest of my mother’s sisters, surveys me like she might a hunk of meat at the butcher shop before buying it. Or throwing it away. Either one. “She will have to do.”
“Gee, thanks,” I say with a roll of my eyes.
“Oh, don’t get your panties in a bunch,” Camila says, examining my dress. “It’s just that these rich guys, they like someone with a bit more…oomph.”
“Oomph?” I repeat.
“What is oomph?” Penny asks. “And why do you think I have it and Nina doesn’t?”
Camila hedges, changing the subject before excusing herself to go harass some of the other girls, but I know what she means, even if she doesn’t say it. Penny is beautiful and outgoing. She catches a guy’s eye. I’m quiet, subdued. I go with the flow, probably because I grew up in my little sister’s shadow.
Not that I’m complaining.
I thank God every day that Valentina is still with us and in remission. She was diagnosed with leukemia when she was just two years old, and her health and wellbeing has always been my family’s priority.
But she got so used to me being at her beck and call that sometimes, she treats me like her doormat, which leads the rest of the family to do the same.
With our aunt gone, Penny plops down beside me on the love seat and nudges me with her foot. “Whatcha reading?”
Oh no. I point to the tabloid magazine. “Just…this.”
Penny laughs. “Since when have you cared about…” She leans forward to see the cover. “Hollywood’s secret diets? I mean, what’s under that?”
“Nothing,” I say too quickly.
Before I can block her, she reaches across me and snatches the book away. She coos at the naked man chest on the cover and then flips it over to read the back.
“It’s just a book I found,” I say to try to save face.
“On your bookshelf? It’s OK, prima, I know you have a dark side.” She hands it back to me. “I just didn’t know how dark.” Then she makes a sound like a whip cracking.
“I’m not dark,” I say, grabbing the book away from her.
She laughs. “You just need the right man to fulfill those fantasies.”
“Oh, where am I supposed to meet him? At a charity date auction?”
Penny leans back and peeks through the curtain. “You never know. Have you heard about the lower levels at the Oakwood Club? These rich dudes can be freaky.”
I don’t bother with a response as I stand and check my hair and make-up in the mirror. I work for Hartigan and Kline. Of course I’ve heard all about the OC. But despite my dark fantasies, I’ve never received an invitation from any of the losers I’ve dated, probably because none of them have been members. The odds that that will change tonight are likely very slim.
My aunt pokes her head in. “Get dressed. You have ten minutes.”
The dressing rooms are curtained off areas in a conference hall beside the main ballroom in Oakwood City’s finest hotel, the Monolith. There are twenty of us girls going up for auction, and the noise level in the room increases as Camila goes from girl to girl. When I turn around and see Penny holding my dress, I get the first twinge of nerves.
“Come on. I’ll help you get dressed.”
Eight minutes later, I’m stuffed into the dress and giving thanks to Spanx. Without them, I’d look like the Michelin Tire man. With them, I look like a chocolate truffle—smooth, round, and decadent.
“Girl, yes,” Penny says, stepping back to look at me, and I have to agree.
The dress clings to my curves and pushes my boobs up and out. My hair hangs in soft, dark curls and my makeup is on point. I feel hot. Who needs to bend—or sit, or breathe—when they look this good? I look like the kind of girl who could walk into the OC. Maybe something good will happen tonight.
Penny says her goodbyes and rushes out to the main ballroom, probably to find her mom or maybe Val, if she bothered to show up. Camila beckons us all forward and lines us up. When she gets a good look at me, she doesn’t say anything but just raises her eyebrows, which I’ll take as a compliment. From some people, silence is best.
“Have you done this before?” I ask the tall blond in front of me. She’s wearing a floor length lavender gown with a sweetheart neckline.
“Last year.”
“Did you get a good date?”
She sighs. “I ended up with Andrej Novak.”
“Oh,” I say, surprised. “I hear he’s super-hot.” And rich. An Oakwood Boy of the highest order.
“Not the young one. The old one.” She rolls her eyes to emphasize her point.
I cringe. I guess that’s the risk of this date auction—it’s not like we get a say in who picks us.
When Camila leaves us to go to the stage and start the auction, we immediately break ranks, pushing each other aside to get a peek through the door into the ballroom.
“There’s Max,” one girl says.
“He’s such a dick,” someone else answers.
“Is that Theo Latsis?” asks another.
But my eyes immediately focus on one very familiar form. There’s no mistaking Tobias Kline in his immaculate black suit and lavender tie, his brown hair parted and swept to one side.
That man is everything. Sexy. Smart. Powerful. Single.
And he’s never looked at me twice despite
playing an active role in my bedtime fantasies over the last few years. As a data entry clerk at Hartigan & Kline, I hear a lot of things about the men I work for, my favorite one being that Tobias Kline is a gentleman in the streets and a master in the sheets.
Literally.
He likes to be called “Sir.” And if rumors are to be believed, there are handcuffs involved.
Just the idea of it makes my core throb with excitement. I would give almost anything to have non-boring sex. Hell, I would give anything to have an orgasm that isn’t self-induced, honestly.
“Girls!” Camila reappears and we all snap to attention, falling back in line. The first girl in line takes a deep breath and then saunters onto the makeshift stage as the MC announces her.
Just a few more girls to go, and then it will be my turn. I let myself imagine, just for a second, that Tobias Kline bids on me. That he wins, and whisks me away, and ties me up and—
But it will never happen. It’s just a fantasy.
And my feet are planted very firmly in reality.
Chapter Three
Tobias
Chuck lets me off in front of the Monolith. A reporter I recognize from the Oakwood Daily is hovering by the door. He skips over Theo Latsis, heir of a renowned banking family, in favor of harassing me.
“Tobias Kline,” he announces, like I don’t know my own name. “Here to win yourself a date?”
I keep walking, leaving him to chase after me. “When it’s for a worthy cause, everyone wins.”
But he doesn’t relent. “Have your eye on anyone in particular?”
“Just here to support the cause and raise awareness for cancer research.” The bellman opens the door, but I pause and shoot the reporter as real of a smile as I can muster. “Hartigan and Kline does everything it can to support its employees. We’re just one big family.”
“Sir,” the bellman nods as I enter.
Crossing the lobby, I follow the signs for VALENTINA’S CHARITY DATE AUCTION, and find that it’s in the main ballroom—a massive, gilded room with dozens of chandeliers overhead. Most of them are dimmed to give the large room a cozy ambience. There’s a bar along the back, and tables and chairs decorated in lavender and gold, all set out before a makeshift stage.
