Ruthless Boss

by Liz Fox

  Ruthless Boss

  Badder Bosses, Book 4

  by Liz Fox

  Copyright © 2020 by Liz Fox

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Portions of this book are works of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and events are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblances to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Edited by Cassidy Taylor

  Liz Fox

  Lizfoxauthor.com

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Epilogue

  Thank You

  Join Me!

  Also by Liz Fox

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Miriam

  Even though I try not to think of my boss that way, it’s impossible not to appreciate his ridiculously appealing body. Especially when he’s halfway undressed and still damp from the shower.

  “Miriam, good. You’re here.” Drake Gallagher, Oakwood City financial genius, rubs a towel over his head as he walks toward me. I’ve seen him with a button undone a time or two in the few years I’ve been his Executive Assistant, but this is the first time he’s had his white shirt hanging open, revealing smooth, bronze skin over a legitimate eight-pack of abs. His trim, black beard still glistens with moisture, and his jeans ride low on his hips. I find myself hoping he’ll forget to button up. Surreptitiously, I hope, I check my chin for drool.

  “Yep, I’m here,” I chirp nervously. I swear I’m normally more professional than this, but considering the circumstances, I think I’m doing pretty well.

  Drake tosses the towel into the laundry basket. We’re in the changing room of his private gym. That’s right, he owns the building and one of the floors is dedicated to his gym, shower, and changing room.

  When I first started, he explained that working out helps him think. He must do a lot of thinking.

  I’ve met him in here before, but this is the first time he’s ever been less than fully dressed. Maybe I should start coming to work a little earlier.

  “What can I help you with today?” Maybe if we start talking about work, I’ll be able to focus on something other than how much I’d like to trace the groove between his abs with my tongue.

  “You know Jack, who handles the Fairview accounts?” he asks as he starts buttoning his shirt.

  “Yes, I know him.” If a quiet sigh escapes me as he hides that beautiful body, it’s nobody’s business but my own.

  “He’s leaving. Moving to someplace in Europe next month,” Drake explains as he puts his socks and shoes on. “We’ll need to find someone to cover his accounts. I need you to reach out to a few of our other representatives to see if anyone can take his accounts. That or we’ll need to hire someone new.”

  I’m nodding and making a note on my tablet before I realize the glaring opportunity in front of me. I’ve been wanting to work in finance my entire life. It’s why I majored in business and took this job in the first place. I wanted to see the inner workings of the finance industry and learn from the best.

  And I have.

  It was never my intention to be Drake’s Executive Assistant for more than a few years. Now, here’s a job opening that’s just right for my next step; it’s not too big, not too small. I’m familiar with Jack’s responsibilities and I’m certain I can do the job well.

  “Sir, um. Mr. Gallagher,” I venture more timidly than I would like. With a brisk shake of my head, I force some sense back into me. “I’d like to apply for the position, sir.”

  I notice Drake has moved to stand in front of the mirror and is combing his hair. With my comment, he pauses briefly, meeting my gaze in the mirror.

  “Do you think you could handle the job?” he asks with his deep, silky voice.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do you think you’re qualified?” His voice gets deeper.

  “Yes, I do.” I give a brief, nervous nod of my head, determined to make my case. “I have a degree in Finance and I’ve been shadowing you for three years. I think I know enough to do the job well.”

  Drake turns around and walks toward me, power and confidence in every step. For some, he might look intimidating, but I’ve spent enough time with him to know that while he can be ruthless in business, he also has a strict sense of honor.

  “Miriam, I’d love to promote you. You know I would.”

  I can see where this is going. “But?” I prompt.

  “But I don’t think you’re ready.”

  I open my mouth to protest, but he cuts me off, “Up until now, you’ve been swimming in the shallow end of the financial industry. You’re great at what you do. You’re reliable, consistent, and honest.”

  With each word he speaks, my heart sags a little more. Reliable? Consistent? The words feel insulting on so many levels, I don’t even know how to respond.

  “Miriam, all those things that make you great at helping me make you vulnerable in the real world. Frankly, the industry is full of sharks, and you aren’t ready to dive into the deep end.”

  He steps around me and opens the door. He pauses for a moment on his way out to say, “Don’t forget to open that position. We need someone for the Fairview accounts as soon as possible.”

  My chest tightens as I watch the door close behind him. It almost feels like a metaphorical door slamming on my hopes and dreams. That is, if I allowed Drake Gallagher to determine the direction of my life.

  Fortunately, it’s my life, my career, and my future. I’m the one with the final say.

  I’m also the one with an invitation to the illustrious Annual Investment Dinner later this week, where Oakwood City’s finest financial tycoons meet to network, hobnob, and find new opportunities. In a few years, when I’m my own CEO, I’ll have to thank Drake for securing the invitation for me.

  For now, I’m going to focus on getting through the day. Tonight is girls’ night, and with the morning I’ve already had, I could definitely use a shot of estrogen and a drink or two.

  ◆◆◆

  “I’ve got cider or wine. Take your pick,” Helena asks. I love when it’s her turn to host since she has the swankiest apartment in the complex. It’s on the top floor, with big windows, and gorgeous views of Oakwood City.

  Each week, the four of us—Helena, Amara, Quinn, and I—meet for drinks and gossip. We all live in the same apartment in the Village, and met when we kept running into each other in the elevator on the way to work. In the year since our friendship developed, we’ve each had our ups and downs. But we’re always there to support each other, and I value my relationship with each of these amazing women.

  “What kind of wine?” Amara asks. She’s setting up her son, Josiah, at the table with a tablet, earbuds, and a piece of pepperoni pizza.

  “I went all out tonight. We’ve got both sparkling white or sparkling red,” Helena responds.

  “Girl, just bring both bottles,” I say. “I have a feeling we’re going to need both of them.”

  “That sounds a bit ominous,” Quinn comments.

  “I need your feedback on something,” I admit.

  “Oh, do tell.” Quinn leans forward in her seat.

  “It has been a day. I’m going to need a drink to go with this story,” I say, ruefully.

  Helena sets a wine bottle on
the coffee table and pours the other into four glasses. Amara settles next to me on the sofa. Within two minutes, we’re relaxing with our drinks.

  “Okay, tell us what happened,” Quinn demands with a playful smile.

  “Well, there’s an opening at the company that I’d like to apply for.” I tell the girls about learning about the position, and the smack down Drake gave me. It’s a relief to see how appalled they are at his response.

  “You don’t think it’s too soon?” I ask.

  Helena scoffs. “Miriam, dear. You’ve been ready for the last year. If he admitted you’re good at your job, then most likely he doesn’t want to train someone to replace you.”

  I consider Helena’s statement. The hassle of training a new Executive Assistant might be factoring into his advice subconsciously, but Drake has always been supportive of my career and education. This is the first time I’ve felt like he might be holding me back.

  Amara chimes in, “When I was your age, Miriam, I signed up with one of those career coaches. It was just before Josiah was born, Justin had left, and I was trying to figure out what to do to support us. I told this coach I wanted to be a life coach for women. He immediately poo-pooed the idea, saying it wasn’t marketable. Unfortunately, I listened to him.”

  She takes a sip of wine and continues, “He was supposedly an ‘expert.’ I took his advice and gave up on my idea. I decided to be responsible and get my MBA instead.” Amara gestures with her glass, giving me a meaningful look. “Now, look on the internet. There are thousands of life coaches for women, some of them making millions of dollars. If I’d started then, at the beginning of the wave, I’d be doing very well for myself right now.”

  “Wow,” I reply, a little speechless.

  Amara gives a sharp nod. “I’m lucky that I’m happy where I ended up. But I still wish I’d had more faith in myself back then.”

  Helena adds, “Men don’t always know what’s right for you. They might have the best of intentions. They might want to protect you and make sure you’re safe. But it’s your life. You need to follow your gut and trust your intuition.”

  “Guaranteed, Drake didn’t reach this level of success by playing it safe,” Quinn says.

  That is certainly true. In the last few years, I’ve seen Drake make some pretty bold moves, business-wise. With his expertise and experience, they pay off... most of the time.

  “As Drake’s assistant, I received an invitation to the Oakwood Annual Investment Dinner. It’s only a couple days away and all of the top financial minds in the city attend. I was planning on doing a little networking while I’m there,” I admit.

  Helena sits upright, an expression of pure excitement on her face. “Yes. You’re going to that dinner. You’re going to get the promotion you deserve, either with Drake or someone else. It’s time for you to shine, my dear. They’ll never see you coming.”

  Quinn’s eyes light up and Amara smiles. My brow is still furrowed in confusion.

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “We’re going to make him wish he took you more seriously.”

  Chapter 2

  Drake

  “Looking for someone?” Maximilian Hawthorne asks. He’s the owner of the hotel and a major player in the Oakwood City financial scene. It’s no surprise that he’s hosting the Annual Investment Dinner. The most influential financial minds come here every year, looking for the next big opportunity.

  “My assistant, Miriam, should be here already,” I reply.

  “Ah, there’s nothing like having the right assistant,” Max smirks. “Isn’t that right, angel?”

  While I scanned the crowd for Miriam, Max’s wife joined us. Sloane has straight dark hair, pale skin, and curves for days. Not much is known about her. She came out of nowhere and married the wealthiest man in the state, all while keeping a pretty low profile.

  “Just as long as you don’t take them for granted,” she responds in a quiet voice.

  Sliding a quick glance at Sloane, I check to see if she’s trying to imply something, but she’s looking at Max with an eyebrow raised and a spark in her eyes.

  “There she is.” I spot Miriam’s light brown hair through the crowd. “Max, Mrs. Hawthorne,” I nod to them, taking my leave.

  On the way to Miriam, I decide it might be a good idea to come bearing gifts, especially after our conversation a few mornings ago. I noticed she’s been a little subdued and I want her to know I appreciate her. Stopping at the bar, I get a top shelf scotch for myself and a cosmo for Miriam.

  Hiring Miriam as my assistant was one of the smartest things I’ve ever done. She didn’t have much experience as an assistant, but she had a degree in finance. In the past three years, I’ve discovered she has a work ethic that rivals my own and an instinct for finance that’s rare.

  There’s no doubt in my mind that someday she’ll run her own company. But it’s a tough industry. Most of the big players don’t care about things like honor or integrity. All they care about is power, and they’re willing to step all over people to get it.

  Since she’s been working with me, Miriam has enjoyed a measure of protection. My reputation keeps the worst predators at bay. Not that I’ve said anything to her about it; dealing with power-hungry assholes isn’t part of her job description. Well, except for me. And I’ve got a code of honor, especially when it comes to Miriam.

  It’s that feeling of protectiveness that flares into an inferno when I notice who Miriam is chatting with.

  Michael. My ex-business partner and current nemesis. What the hell is she doing talking with him?

  He’s a sleezeball of the first degree, and I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him. It isn’t just his shady business practices, although those are pervasive. It’s his reputation with women in the industry. If the rumors are true, he uses them and then ruins their career by trash-talking them with all his buddies.

  Striding quickly through bodies in suits and cocktail gowns, I make my way to Miriam’s side.

  “Miriam, Michael, what are you doing here together?” I hand Miriam her drink and then wrap a possessive arm around her waist while keeping my steely gaze leveled on Michael. She smells like cinnamon, warm and spicy. I’ve never noticed before, but her curves fit perfectly against me.

  “I was just entertaining your lovely assistant,” Michael smirks, running a hand through his overly gelled hair. “Apparently, you weren’t giving her enough attention because she’s been making the rounds for at least thirty minutes.”

  “Hello, Drake.” With a nudge of her elbow into my side, Miriam scoots away from me. “I got here a little early and figured I’d meet some new people.”

  My jaw clenches. I don’t like her pushing away from me, and I certainly don’t like her talking to my ex-business partner. I turn to her, ready to forcefully remove her from Michael’s presence if necessary.

  My breath catches as I notice what she’s wearing for the first time. It’s some kind of silky, ruby-colored dress with a slit that seems to go forever. Her freckled skin gleams over the off the shoulder neckline, and I find myself wanting to play connect-the-dots with my tongue.

  As my gaze reaches her face, I notice her hazel eyes shooting daggers at me over pouty red lips. I didn’t know it until now, but apparently I like a woman with a temper. Especially when she has an ample hourglass figure and thighs I want wrapped around my head.

  I do not want anyone else appreciating her delicious curves.

  “Excuse me, Michael. Miriam and I have something to discuss in private.” Without waiting for a response, I take Miriam by the upper arm and guide her to an alcove a bit apart from the main event.

  “What the hell are you wearing?” I hiss, unable to stop my eyes from roaming.

  “What? This?” With a taunting curve of her lips, she runs her hands over her dress. My palms tingle with the urge to do the same. “It’s a party, Drake. I’m wearing a cocktail dress. Just like all the other women in the room.”

  “You
don’t look like the other women tonight.” My voice is gravely with suppressed desire. “You barely look like yourself. You look mesmerizing, like flames. And you’re attracting all the predators in the room with your innocent, delectable heat.”

  “I’m sure you’re overreacting.” She glares at me, but I swear I see a bit of uncertainty in her eyes.

  “I’m not. But that isn’t relevant. What matters is I need to have a few conversations while you wait safely with an old friend of mine.”

  “I have every right to mingle tonight, Drake. I know what I’m doing.”

  “And what is that?” The intensity of my gaze seems to penetrate her awareness because she hesitates a moment before answering.

  “If you aren’t going to appreciate me, then I’ll find someone who will.”

  The coals of my temper roar into flames of anger, and I lean forward, hissing into her ear, “You’re an innocent lamb in a room full of wolves. Be careful who you tease. You might wake up something you can’t put back to sleep.”

  Miriam isn’t going anywhere. I won’t allow it. My blood boils at just the thought of her with someone else.

  She’s mine.

  Mine to teach. Mine to conquer. Mine to protect.

  I’m not letting anyone take her from me.

  Chapter 3

  Miriam

  “What the hell, Drake?” He has a firm grip on my elbow as he guides me to a group of elegant women surrounding a standing table. I don’t care if he looks like a sex in a suit, he doesn’t get to drag me around like a sack of potatoes.

  “There are some conversations I need to have. Stay here with Veronica,” he practically growls. “Ladies, this is my assistant, Miriam. Please take care of her.” With that cursory introduction, he takes his leave.

  “Excuse me,” I say, turning to the women. Three classy women, who look to be in their fifties and sixties, observe me. “I’m sorry to interrupt you like this.”

  “No worries, my dear. We understand how the men at these functions can be,” the woman on the left waves her manicured hand in dismissal. She has short silver hair, keen blue eyes, and bright red lipstick.