It’s 1:58, and there are more notifications on my phone than I’ve ever had before.
I turn it on to possibly the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, save my mother dying.
Meghan had posted a video of us dancing around the cat tower. It’s been viewed over fifty-thousand times over the course of two hours.
My hands are shaking, and I grow dizzy. I want to yell for Meghan to take it down, but I’m unable to say a word.
I see notifications of text messages from Tom, Analise, and Gabriel, and I don’t know if I should just turn off my phone and give myself a few hours before I ‘face the music’ or dive right in.
Can I get fired? Oh, God—I’m going to be fired.
I cringe inwardly as I pull up Tom’s message, not knowing exactly what I have gotten myself into.
Tom: OMG! What am I watching? You are super sexy girl, and I’m glad you made good use of that gift card. I can’t wait to see more.
A small wave of relief washes over me. After all, he is in a high position within the company, and he hasn’t admonished the action or screamed for me to have it taken down. Next, I move to Analise’s message.
Analise: Girl, you’re probably gonna wake to some crazy shit and feelings, but just know—it’s all good. Gabe loves it! He thinks you’re going to draw in a younger crowd. If anyone asks you any questions, say nothing.
An even larger wave of relief washes over me. My fears subside, but I still feel an unhealthy amount of anxiety. I mean, what’s the board going to think? What’s Cregor going to think?
Finally, I open Gabriel’s.
Gabriel: Your apartment should be ready Monday. Would you care to join me for dinner before I show it to you?
Apartment? Dinner? He sent the text at 1:30, about a half-hour after I received Analise’s text, which means he knows about the video and said nothing about it.
Remi: Sure
I’m immediately greeted by a text bubble. He’s busy typing, which means he’s still awake.
Gabriel: Good, bring something to the office to wear, we’ll leave straight from work.
My heart stops. No—the world stops. Gabriel Icor, the 10, wants to have dinner with me! Of course, it’s for work-related reasons, but still, I can dream.
What am I supposed to wear? Is he going to take me to a place like Deco? Or will it be more like an Olive Garden dinner? Endless breadsticks do sound good.
Remi: What are you wearing?
Gabriel: I’m still in my work suit, but three buttons of my shirt are undone. I shed my belt hours ago. Please tell me you’re still in that muumuu. It really brings out the color in your eyes.
Oh, God! That’s not what I meant.
Remi: I meant Monday! Will you be wearing something casual? Or dressy?
Gabriel: Whatever it is, I’ll be wearing underwear at least.
I throw down my phone.
What the fuck just happened! Fucking Analise must have told him what I blurted out to Tom!
Kibbles is breathing heavily in a corner, but she’s not being aggressive. I think whatever happened last night scared the living daylights out of her. Brought her to God.
I go to my bathroom to splash my face with water.
Was he trying to sext me? Or was he making a joke? Why would he want to sext me? He’s Gabriel Icor the 10!
I rush to Meghan, shaking her until she shows signs of life.
“Meghan! I need you. Meghan! Wake up!”
I continue to shake her frantically until she grunts and rolls over.
“Meghan! It’s Gabriel Icor!”
That got her attention.
In a moment, she’s sitting up, hands on head, blinking.
“What the hell is going on with Gabriel?”
“I need you to look at this.” I hand her my phone.
“Oh my God! Gabriel Icor’s asking you to dinner!”
“Well, it has to be a work meeting, right?”
“Then why wouldn’t he schedule a work meeting? This is dinner! You’re not some special client. He’s taking you out to eat.”
“I’m sure this is just what fancy businessmen do.”
“God, you really are stupid. Your brainy and hot, and that might just be what Gabriel Icor, Tech Genius likes.”
Gabriel Icor the Tech Genius, that’s what they had called him on the cover of Investor Today. He was supposed to make a big splash in the tech world, but instead, headlines died shortly after the issue was released. And now I know why—his board wouldn’t let him get anything done.
“Oh my God! He just told you what he’s wearing, and you fucking clarified?”
“He’s my boss!”
“He was flirting!”
“I didn’t know what to do!” I plead.
“Get me a cup of coffee. It’s time for you to go back to school.”
I open my mouth to protest.
“Nope! Get your ass in the kitchen. It’s going to be a long night.”
I make two cups of coffee and bring them to my table where Meghan is now seated.
“Give me your phone.”
“No!”
“Remi, do you want to go the rest of your life receiving promotions and watching everyone else live their lives while you invent whatever you invent?”
“First of all, I’ve invented nothing. Second, no. I want a life too.”
“Then trust me. I have more experience than you do. You can do all the shit you need to do career-wise, I’ll be like your PR rep.”
I hand over my phone, and she pulls up the text box.
Remi: Boxers or briefs?
What did she just type!?! Oh my God, this was a mistake!
I reach to grab the phone from her, but she pulls it away.
“Damnit, Meghan, he’s my boss!”
“Yeah, and he just told you in explicit detail how he was dressed. And then he mentioned underwear. This is warranted.”
“Look, you’re probably right. Right about everything—this just isn’t me.”
“You’re shaking,” Meghan says, placing her hand over mine.
My phone buzzes and bile fills my throat. Meghan looks, but I turn away.
“Oh, my God—you need to see this.”
She turns the phone towards me, and I gasp.
Gabriel sent a picture of the lower half of his body. His button-up shirt is completely undone, his white undershirt is pulled up, showing his taut abs. His pants are unbuttoned, revealing skin-tight boxer briefs, a large bulge underneath.
“Does this mean he’s interested in me?” I ask.
“At the very least, it means he wants to fuck you.”
I feel myself stir, a sensation that always catches me off guard. There is no denying I want to fuck Gabriel Icor, and now there’s no denying he wants to fuck me as well. But, he is my boss, and by pursuing something with Gabriel, I could be excluding the possibility of Tom—who may want more than just to fuck me.
“What do I do?”
“There’s only one thing to do,” Meghan says with way too much confidence. “Take a picture.”
My first reaction is to slap her.
“Oh, don’t look so fucking prude. You’re going around telling guys you’re not wearing underwear and asking them what they’re wearing.”
She’s right.
“So, how should I pose?” I ask.
“Well, he mentioned the muumuu, so I think you should keep it on, but bring it up around your waist and look over your shoulder. Here, sit on this stool.”
Meghan moves a stool into position, then repositions the ring lights.
“Are you kidding me? You have to be kidding me.”
“Absolutely not,” she says.
I sit on the stool just as she instructs, and she has me grab the hem of the horrid, orange-flowered gown.
“Now look over your shoulder, smiling confidently,” she says.
I comply, and she moves into position to get a picture. After taking a few shots, she shows them to me, and against all odds, I do not die f
rom embarrassment.
My hair is disheveled but in a sexy kind of way. The muumuu is up around my waist, my black lace underwear on display. It’s not a model-worthy shot, but there’s no denying that it’s cute.
“Can I send it?” Meghan asks.
“If you think I should.”
A big smile spreads across Meghan’s face, and she begins typing.
Snakes of dread and butterflies of desire start waging war in my gut, each claiming the territory as their own. I wait anxiously for a return text, which is taking way longer than it should.
Finally, my phone buzzes.
Gabriel: You look unbelievable sexy in that. I’d love a view from the other side.
I damn near smack the phone from Meghan’s hand, completely mortified.
“Oh, stop! What the hell did you think he was going to say, ‘I love the floral print.’ He’s a man, and men are visual creatures.”
“So, you think I should?”
“No! Absolutely not! You need to keep him wanting—needing.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Gabriel Icor can fuck anyone he wants, and he wants to fuck you. Chances are, women don’t hold his attention for long. Once he sees the goods, the mystery is gone. We’re going to tell him that the view is better in person.”
Meghan starts typing, and I turn, unable to even look at her as she texts my new obsession.
Remi: A picture would never do justice. I’d love to show you in person…
Gabriel: Should I send a car to come get you?
“Fuck! No! Tell him no!”
“Don’t worry, girl. That’s exactly what I intend to do. We don’t want Gabriel to think you’re overeager.”
Remi: I’d love to, but I’m a bit tired.
Gabriel: That’s fair. What about tomorrow, are you busy?
Remi: I am. Sorry. You’ll have to wait until Monday.
Gabriel: One last request?
“One last request? What the fuck is he going to want?”
“He’s a guy. It’ll be something perverted like, ‘Don’t forget to think of me when you masturbate tonight.’ Guys like thinking that shit.”
Remi: What would that be?
Gabriel: I’m sending over a driver. I’d like you to give him your panties.
I feel like I’m about to throw up. Gabriel Icor is asking for my panties.
Remi: Sure thing!
“Hot fuckin’ damn, you have one of America’s sexiest billionaires sexting you. I fucking spend all my time on the web wearing short shorts and flashing my tits, and Little Miss Introvert is sexy posing in a fucking muumuu with Gabriel Fucking Icor.”
“How could you have agreed to that?” I gasp.
“Oh, chill. It’s no big deal. We’ll just throw them in a sandwich bag and tape them to the door.”
A swell of heat blooms inwardly. I’m smiling, excited. I went from having zero dating prospects to having two men ask me to dinner in one week—each of them brilliant and sexy.
“That fucking bulge. That FUCKING bulge.” Meghan is enlarging the picture Gabriel sent to me.
His member is fully clothed, but I can see a hint of a ridge, and for a moment, I regret not grabbing the phone and telling him to send a car.
I need that fucking bulge.
CHAPTER 18
Remi has coffee with Tom the 9…
The smell of coffee grounds invigorates me as I walk into the quaint café I’m meeting Tom at. I’m seven minutes and thirty-eight seconds early, and I’m unsure if it would be rude for me to grab a cup before he arrives.
I decide to utilize my on-call backup, Meghan.
Remi: I’m early. Should I grab a coffee before he arrives?
Meghan: No. Part of getting to know each other is figuring out what kind of coffee they like. And let him pay.
I don’t need Tom to pay for my coffee, but Meghan knows more about this kind of thing than I do, so I take her advice and wait.
A couple is sitting by a window arguing. It looks like the woman has been crying. The man is leaned back, glancing around the room as though he is embarrassed.
The barista behind the counter with frizzy red hair yells out a name, and a man with converse sneakers and wireless Apple earbuds in his ear grabs it and walks off.
The jingle of the door bells rings, and I turn to see Tom walking in wearing a baby blue polo and khaki shorts.
His face lights when his gaze finds me, and I smile in return.
He pulls me into an embrace, kissing my cheek.
“How was your trip?” I ask.
“Boring! You know what got me through it, though?” He’s looking at me with a droll expression on his handsome face.
I have a feeling I know what he’s going to say, and I divert my eyes.
“Well, what will it be?” he asks, nodding to the menu.
“Something sweet, with lots of sugar.”
“Any syrups?”
“I like caramel.”
“What about that Toffee Coffee Crunch?” he asks.
“That sounds perfect.”
We get in line, and I stare at the pastries behind the glass, too scared to even look at Tom.
His hand is on my shoulder, playing with my hair. It’s an unfamiliar sensation, but a nice one—something I could get used to.
Tom orders for us, and it doesn’t take long for our drinks to come up. We take a seat and blow the steam off our drinks.
“Cute place,” he says, glancing around the café.
“Yeah, I try to frequent mom and pop businesses, though this may be more hippie and bro.”
He laughs as he stirs his drink, glancing up at me from across the table. I can tell he wants to say something, and I have a good idea of what he wants to ask. I brace for impact.
“So, you have a cat,” he asks with the face of an angel. “A very large one.”
He must have seen Kibbles in my cat tower video. Wonderful.
“I do. I’m gunning for crazy cat lady, but instead of having several cats, I chose to have one very large cat.”
“And that porn star you live next to?”
“Might be Meghan. Yeah…I was off on that one.”
“Just a little.”
“Well, she always looks so perfect. And she has a shit ton of ring lights in her living room. And her furniture is very nice for our shitty apartment complex. It was a logical conclusion, although a wrong one.”
His phone buzzes. He takes a moment to respond to someone, then his attention is on me again.
“Sorry about that. I have some side ventures. It’s actually why I had to go out of town.”
“Oh?”
“I’m investing in a bourbon company and a private airline.”
“Wow, what got you into that?”
“I’m trying to build a brand outside of Icor Tech. My aim is quality and luxury.”
“Maybe you could let me sample it sometime, although I’m not sure I’d have any good input.”
“Definitely.”
We talk for the next half hour, or rather Tom talks. I get to hear about his life, his many accomplishments, and his plans for all his money. So much money, apparently.
I have very little to tell him in return, not that I could have gotten a word in with how much he likes to talk about himself.
What is wrong with you? You have a handsome man wanting to spend time with you, and you’re sitting here judging him.
But I know exactly what’s wrong with me. I can’t get my mind off of Gabriel the 10, who is in possession of my panties.
I dread seeing him, yet he’s all I think about. He’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen, and he made it clear on Friday he was interested in me.
“So, what do you say?” Tom says, staring at me.
Holy shit, why wasn’t I listening!
I glance downward, wondering how I should tell him I wasn’t paying attention.
“I mean, I know it’s a bit forward, and I mean you no disrespect. I’d love to
lavish you with attention. I think you’ll find me very attentive.”
Oh…that… It sounds like he’s wanting some alone time. I wonder if he cares how inexperienced I am. And what exactly does he mean by very attentive?
“You know, I don’t think it’s a good idea. I’m going to be moving soon, and there’s still packing to be done. And I’m getting ready for my first meeting as a director.”
“Oh, so what are you preparing?”
“Gabriel told me to do whatever I did that got me into that meeting. So, I found some inefficiencies with international shipping and the ports we utilize.”
Tom clears his throat, leaning back, a critical look on his face.
“I tell ya what. Let me have a look at it first. I’d love to see if I can help you out before the meeting. I’ll be able to tell you who’s going to object and what they’re going to say. We’ll go in there prepared.”
“Wow. That would be great. Thank you.”
“I’ll try to stop in Monday, but Mondays are busy, so it might end up being Tuesday.”
“Awesome. I look forward to your criticism.”
We get up to leave, but Tom grabs me by the arm, catching me off guard.
His lips press to mine, a short kiss, just a peck.
“Care to pose for a picture?” he asks.
A picture? No one’s ever wanted to take a picture with me before.
The Billionaire's Board Page 12
