Bossed By The Billionaire

by Kaylee Quinn

  I let out a long, shaky breath. “I know. I just . . . I just wish he didn’t order me to do the impossible.”

  “Come here.” Before I could move, Kaylee wrapped me up in a tight bear hug. “Things are going to be okay. You’ll see. I’m sure our boss isn’t the monster you think he is.”

  I chuckled into Kaylee’s shoulder. “He might not be a monster, but I don’t think he’s human. Maybe he’s an alien.”

  Kaylee dropped the hug and smirked. “A sexy alien from another dimension.” She wiggled her eyebrows for emphasis.

  I slid off the counter. “One who’s come down to earth to study the female species.”

  “Maybe that’s why he wants you to show off your curves!” She dipped her head and narrowed her gaze at my breasts. “He wants to study them.”

  I hunched over and mimicked her movements. “Very interesting. What do you call these?”

  Kaylee straightened and threw back her shoulders. “They’re called breasts, Mr. Barrett. Go on, you can touch them if you want.”

  I did my best imitation of a caveman-like grunt and pretended to squeeze her chest. “Breasts. Me like breasts.”

  Kaylee hugged me once more and we both cackled like teenagers until the last tendrils of anger left my system.

  “Thanks,” I said when we finally stopped laughing. “I needed that.”

  “Anytime.” She pulled away from me and glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to run. Paddington is at the groomers, so I need to leave early today to pick him up. Are you sure you’re going to be all right?”

  Paddington was the Maltese mix she had gotten a month ago, and the cutest thing on four legs. “I’ll be fine now, thanks to you.”

  Kaylee smiled. “Just remember, if he starts to give you a hard time. . .” She pushed her shoulders back. “Just show him your breasts.”

  Giggling, I turned back to the sink. “I will. Now get out of here. I don’t want to make you late.”

  “Love you babe.”

  I grinned. “Love you, too.”

  As the door shut behind her, I turned to the task of washing the evidence of my mental breakdown from my hands and face. Kaylee had been right. Drake Barrett was a first-class asshole, but he was also our boss. For now, we had to suck it up and do as he asked.

  Calling those clients was going to be torture, but I didn’t really have a choice. I might as well bite the bullet and get the unpleasantness over with.

  “There,” I said as I splashed a little cold water on my face to tame the redness. “All better.” My makeup was gone, but to be honest, it didn’t make that much of a difference anyway. Sighing, I started for the door, then stopped. I didn’t want to head back to my office, not yet. I needed a few more minutes of calm before I went back into the fire.

  Pulling my phone out of my cardigan, I quickly checked my messages. Panic sliced through me as I stared dumbly at the screen. Not only was my phone already on, but it was in the middle of an outgoing call.

  A call to…

  Drake fucking Barrett!

  I instantly felt faint. The room was spinning.

  Shit, shit, shit. Sometime during my conversation with Kaylee I must have butt-dialed Drake Barrett and opened up the line. Putting the phone to my ear, I strained to hear if anyone was on the other end of the line. Something beeped, and then the line went dead.

  Oh, God. His voicemail must have picked up the call, then started recording everything that was happening on my end. Right now Drake Barrett was out there, somewhere in Boston, with his cell in his suit pocket like a ticking time bomb, just waiting to be detonated.

  I tossed my phone on the counter as if it was on fire. This wasn’t happening to me. It wasn’t. “Fuck!”

  Okay, maybe it wasn’t so bad. Maybe I butt-dialed him at the end of my conversation with Kaylee, when she was leaving—after we both called him an alien and giggled like drunk cheerleaders at a frat party.

  Or maybe the audio was distorted and muffled.

  There was no guarantee that he would know what I said about him…

  My stomach churned and I felt like I wanted to be sick.

  Wiping a hand over my face, I paced the small space in front of the sink and quickly went through what happened from the moment Kaylee and I went into the bathroom until now, scrutinizing every moment of our conversation.

  The only time I could have possibly butt-dialed him was when I sat up on the counter. That happened right after Kaylee asked me to tell her what happened. If that was true, then it was possible that Drake Barrett’s voicemail had recorded our entire conversation.

  It recorded me calling him a selfish prick and telling Kaylee that he probably was horrible in bed.

  Oh God, what was I going to do? After pacing and swearing for a few moments, I managed to calm myself down enough to think rationally.

  As I saw it, I had only two choices. The first choice would be quit. I had to admit that walking into my boss’s shiny new office and telling him to fuck off had a lot of appeal. Unfortunately, I needed this job. Rent in Boston wasn’t cheap, and without any source of income I wouldn’t be able to stay in my small, studio apartment close to those amazing Italian bakeries in the North End. Not only would I no longer have my favorite biscotti with my morning coffee, but I’d have nowhere to live. Moving out of the city was not an option. I had spent my entire life in and around Boston. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I had to move away.

  Besides, this was my first job out of college. I hadn’t even worked here a year. If I left now, I wouldn’t be able to find employment anywhere else. No one would hire a girl with six months of experience and a bad reference from her previous boss.

  My second option was to go immediately to his office and grovel. Ideally, he’d show some uncharacteristic sign of mercy and let me off the hook.

  Yeah, and I’ll win the lottery, too. I had as much of a chance at having the winning numbers as I did at getting any kind of leniency from my brutish boss.

  Still, I had to try. I never had been a quitter, and didn’t want to become one now. If I was going to go down, I was going to go down fighting.

  I stopped pacing in front of the mirror and sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy, but I could do it. Just five or ten minutes of groveling, and it would be over. Then maybe, just maybe, I could go back to my desk and pretend that none of this ever happened.

  After putting my hair back in a ponytail and taking a deep, steadying breath, I pulled open the door and left the bathroom to face my fate.

  My entire body shook as I walked down the hall. I didn’t remember ever being so nervous. I had said some really bad things back there, not only about his business decisions, but about his character and his physical appearance. Most men didn’t take kindly to being told that they were a prick. Hopefully Drake Barrett had a hidden sense of humor I didn’t know anything about.

  I knew the way to Bob’s old office well, and it didn’t take me long to go down the hall to where it was located. After taking a deep, steadying breath, I stepped into the reception area and stood there, stunned. A few hours ago, this space had a quaint, homey feel to it. Now it appeared cool and sophisticated, much like the man who I had spoken to a few short hours ago.

  Gone were the potted ferns and crocheted doilies. Instead, there were entertainment magazines and sleek, metal artwork. The old grandfather clock had been removed, as had the creaky chairs along the wall. In their place sat a long, leather couch, end table and fresh roses. The aroma from the flowers filled the room, replacing the musty smell I had grown accustomed to. The old shag carpet had also been removed, revealing the polished, hardwood floor underneath.

  “May I help you?”

  At the end of the room sat a long, black desk that matched the decor. A laptop sat on top of the desk, and a middle-aged woman frowned at me over the screen.

  “Yes.” I stepped forward and cleared my throat. “I need to speak with Mr. Barrett. Are you his assistant?”

  “I am. One moment
please.” She took her glasses off her nose and let them hang around her neck as she picked up the phone. “Mr. Barrett, I have a guest out here waiting to speak with you, a Ms. . .” She raised her brows in silent question.

  “Ms. Chambers.”

  “Ms. Chambers.” She waited, then nodded. “Yes, very good. Yes. I will.” She hung up the receiver and put her glasses back on her nose.

  “Mr. Barrett is busy right now. He said that if the matter is urgent, then you may wait until he finishes.” She returned her attention back to her laptop.

  “Thank you.” I moved to sit on the couch as the receptionist started typing on her keyboard. Several minutes passed with only the sound of steady typing to keep me company. Finally, I couldn’t stay quiet any longer.

  “You’ve made a lot of changes in such a short span of time. It looks amazing around here.”

  The receptionist didn’t answer, didn’t acknowledge my existence. Instead, she kept moving her fingers over the keyboard and staring at the screen in front of her.

  Perhaps she didn’t hear me. I cleared my throat and raised my voice. “I said, it looks great around here.”

  The receptionist dragged her gaze away from her laptop and flashed me a disapproving frown. “Please, I have a lot of work to do.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” I picked up a magazine, then put it down. It was impossible to read about celebrity hookups at a time like this. It seemed so trivial.

  Pressing my lips together in frustration, I fidgeted and tried to settle in for a long wait. It was an impossible task. The couch was fashionable, but not comfortable, and my nerves were too shot to relax.

  Time ticked by with agonizing slowness. Ten minutes…twenty… This was getting ridiculous. I ground my teeth and glared at the door behind the reception desk, silently willing Mr. Barrett to let me inside his office.

  The receptionist looked up from her laptop once more. “Please stop doing that.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Tapping your fingers.” She scowled at me feet. “I just had the furniture polished. Your nails will leave a mark.”

  “Oh, sorry.” I didn’t even realize I was tapping my fingers on the end table until she pointed it out to me. Sighing, I forced my hands into my lap and waited. He’s doing this on purpose. There was no other reasonable explanation. Mr. Barrett must have heard the conversation I had with Kaylee in the bathroom and now he was punishing me by making me wait to see him.

  I imagined him listening to the conversation and becoming more and more angry with each insult. He was probably furious. I’d be furious if someone said those things about me. Then again, it probably wasn’t the first time he had heard someone call him an arrogant asshole. Perhaps he was used to such insults.

  On the other hand, he probably wasn’t used to a woman call him a breast-obsessed alien with a tiny dick.

  Something rumbled in my stomach, and a wave of nausea swept over me. I couldn’t lose this job. This was my whole life and where I got my sense of self-worth. Without my work here at the hotel, I’d be nothing. There had to be some way that I could come out of this whole ordeal with my job and my dignity intact.

  If he starts to give you a hard time, just show him your breasts. Kaylee’s advice drifted through my mind, giving me an idea. Removing my cardigan, I threw back my shoulders and adjusted my shirt. There, that should help. With any luck, he’ll be so dazzled by my cleavage that he won’t even notice the voicemail. I snorted at the absurdity of my plan, but felt there was no other option.

  The phone on the desk buzzed with an incoming call, causing me to jump. The receptionist picked up the phone and murmured something to the person at the other end of the line. I leaned in closer, but couldn’t hear what she was saying. When she finished, she replaced the receiver and turned toward me.

  “Mr. Barrett will see you now.”

  Her words caused an extra bolt of anxiety to blast through my body. Shaking, I stood and plastered on what I hoped looked like a confident smile.

  As I walked toward the office door, the feeling of dread I had been struggling with for the past several hours intensified. In the next few minutes, my work, my reason for living, would be in Drake Barrett’s hands. I just hoped he liked some serious boot licking and a healthy pair of breasts on display. If not, then I was going to be in a heap of trouble.

  Chapter 3

  As soon as I opened the door and stepped inside, it felt as if the rug had been pulled out from under me. A large pit opened up in my stomach, and my legs felt shaky and weak. Flexing my fingers, I tried to re-orient myself in a room that once seemed so familiar, yet now wasn’t recognizable at all.

  So many times I had sat around in this space with Kaylee and the other hotel staff, eating Harriet’s pastries and laughing about the crazy customers we had to deal with that week. Bob had been relaxed and kind, smiling at our jokes and shaking his head at our antics. It had been a bright, airy office, filled with good vibes and plenty of laughs.

  This room was nothing like I remembered it. All of the homemade knickknacks that made the place feel welcoming were gone. In their place were fancy art-deco paintings and mini metal sculptures that made the place look more like a museum than a workspace. While the walls were still the same cream color I remembered, they now looked sterile and intimidating rather than inviting.

  All of the comfortable furniture had been removed and replaced with pieces that complimented the outer waiting area. A black leather couch sat along the wall on the left hand side, and a brass coat hanger had been placed next to it. Roses that matched the ones in the reception area sat on an end table by the window, catching the last rays of light from the setting sun. To my right sat two leather chairs, facing an enormous desk that spanned the entire side wall of the room. Behind the desk sat Drake Barrett with a folder in his hands. He was reading, and whatever was on the page in front of him seemed to take up his full attention.

  Swallowing the lump in my throat, I closed the door and took a hesitant step forward. “Mr. Barrett, I—”

  “Have a seat, Ms. Chambers. I will be with you in a moment.”

  I nodded and sunk into one of the leather chairs. Sitting there, waiting him to finish, I fidgeted like a school girl waiting in the principal’s office for her punishment. From my position, I was forced to look up at the man before me, and doing so made me feel small and insignificant.

  I settled my cardigan in my lap and pushed my shoulders back to (hopefully) show off what god gave me.

  The hotel mogul ignored me. Feeling stupid, I slumped back down and started nibbling my lower lip.

  God, when was he going to be done? It was hard to tell if he had heard the voicemail message or not. I supposed he didn’t, otherwise he would have started yelling at me as soon as I walked through the door. Then again, perhaps this was how Drake Barrett operated. Maybe he kept everything inside and watched his prey like a hawk, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. What I was witnessing might not be his ignorance over the voicemail, but the calm before the storm.

  As if hearing my thoughts, Mr. Barrett snapped the folder shut and tossed it onto the desk in front of him. “Have you called all of the corporate clients like I asked?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “How many have you spoken to?”

  “None yet, but I will.”

  He twisted his chair to the side and raised his brows. “None?”

  “I can explain.”

  “Please do.”

  I cleared my throat and shifted uncomfortably in my seat. His expression remained unreadable, and as the seconds passed, it became harder and harder to think. I had no idea how to explain my lapse of judgement to the very powerful and sexy man in front of me. There was no way I was going to get out of this without looking like a foolish idiot.

  I didn’t want to speak, and yet those dark eyes bore into me with such authority and conviction, I knew there was no choice but to offer up some reason for my actions.

  “Sometimes people do
foolish things when they’re under a lot of stress,” I finally said.

  When I didn’t immediately continue, he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Go on.”

  I averted my gaze and fidgeted as I spoke. “It was all this big, horrible accident. I was upset, you see, and I needed to vent. Kaylee and I have been best friends for a while now, and she was worried about me after you and I spoke, so she brought me into the ladies room to talk.”

  I glanced up at him to see how he was taking this new information. His stony features revealed nothing.

  “I’m not sure what happened, but it appears that I either leaned against the sink or sat on the counter during our time together…” I nibbled my lower lip and stared at my hands in my lap.

  “And?” he asked.

  I took a deep, steadying breath in and let it out before continuing. “And in doing so, I butt-dialed your number and left a rather lengthy voicemail.” I pulled out my cell and made a sheepish grin.

  The man didn’t move, didn’t speak. All he did was stare at me with those all-knowing eyes.

  Fuck.

  It would be nice to know if he’d even heard the damn message yet, or whether I’d simply recorded a bunch of muffled nonsense. But Drake Barrett’s expression gave away nothing.

  Nothing.

  So all I could do was tell the truth and hope for the best.

  I chuckled nervously and slid the phone back into the pocket of my cardigan. “It would seem that some of my venting, or maybe all of it, ended up in your voicemail inbox.” I moistened my lips and looked down at my cardigan, wishing it was around my shoulders and hugging me once more.

  The silence became deep and awkward, so I continued rushing through my apology.

  “I’m really sorry for what happened. My behavior was out of line and inexcusable. Some of the things I said were pretty shameful. They were spoken in the heat of the moment.” I shifted in my seat. “The whole thing is rather embarrassing. You see, when I get angry, I tend to ramble and cry a lot. I know it isn’t professional, or even appropriate, and I am really, truly, deeply sorry for everything I said. I’m sure you have said things you regret, too, so you can probably understand where I’m coming from. I really need to control what I say and how I act around the office. I know this. My mother always said I had an explosive temper, even as a teenager. Maybe I should see a psychiatrist about that, or take an anger management class. What do you think?”