Read Assigned To Him, Book One (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) Online

Authors: Haut Pink Publishing

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Assigned To Him, Book One (An Alpha Billionaire Romance)

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Assigned to Him (Book
1)

 

Copyright 2016 Natalia Shields

Published by Haut Pink Publishing

 

 

 

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WARNING: This ebook contains sexually explicit scenes
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Table of Contents

 

 

Thank You From The
A
uthor

 

Assigned to Him
(Book
1)

 

Other Books by Natalia
Shields

 

Connect with Haut Pink
Publishing

 

 

 

Thank You From The Author

To my amazing readers,

 

Thank you so much for downloading
my book! As an indie author, I really appreciate your support and
hope that you enjoy reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing
it for you.

 

If you could take a minute to leave
a review after reading the book, I would very much appreciate that.
As an indie author, reviews are extremely valuable and allow us to
reach more readers so we can continue doing what we love, writing
fun, steamy romance stories for you!

 

Lastly, be sure to check out my
other available titles as well as resources to stay up to date with
the latest from myself and other Haut Pink Publishing
authors.

Thank you for your support and
allowing me to pursue my passion.

 

Much Love,

Natalia Shields

 

 

 

Chapter 1

 

The name of the local newspaper was stamped on the
envelope I pulled out of the mailbox and the flicker of
anticipation lit up in my mind. I’d sent the application for the
role of trainee fashion correspondent three weeks previously and
was starting to think I wouldn’t get a reply, but the letter in my
hand could only be about the job.

“Don’t get ahead of
yourself,” I let out in a quiet warning to temper the onset of
rising enthusiasm that was starting to bubble inside me.

What I was holding could
simply be a rejection that said thanks, but no thanks, and there
was no point in getting my hopes up only to have them crushed.
There was only one way to find out what was inside the envelope,
but I decided it was best to do it in private and rushed up the
stairs to the apartment I shared with my boyfriend, Greg. He’d
already gone to work that morning to leave me at home alone and
once inside, I walked to the kitchen then sat down at the table. I
ripped the envelope open immediately to take out the sheet of paper
inside and started reading.

“Yes!” I let out a few
seconds later and a huge smile spread across my face as I pumped my
fist.

I read through the
information again in more detail and it was only then that I
checked the date and saw that the interview I was being asked to
attend was for that very afternoon. A prickle of sweat erupted on
my forehead and I lifted my hand to wipe it away.

“Bloody mailman,” I cursed
at the realization of how close I came to missing out on the
opportunity altogether.

My annoyance quickly
transformed to a slight sense of panic as I considered what to
wear. Throwing the letter down on the table, I got to my feet and
hurried through to the wardrobe in the bedroom. Ten minutes later I
was standing in my bra and panties, with the floor around me
littered with discarded dresses, skirts and tops.

“Stay calm,” I urged
myself and closed my eyes as I inhaled a few deep
breaths.

I caught sight of my
larger curves in the mirror straight after and stood staring at my
naked figure. It was something I didn’t do very often along with
avoiding the scales in the bathroom.

“Will they actually want
you as a fashion correspondent?” I let out quietly then dismissed
the notion immediately.

I wasn’t being interviewed
for a job as a model. It was my brains and ability to write
interesting articles that would determine if I got the position
with the newspaper, not what I looked like although it didn’t stop
me wondering if my bigger size would count against me. It was the
first occasion I could remember really inspecting my figure in a
long time and while I didn’t think I’d put on weight recently, I
certainly wasn’t losing any. There was no doubt I was much, much
chubbier than most girls of twenty one and I let out a
sigh.

“Too late to worry about
diets now,” I muttered and returned my attention to finding
something suitable to wear.

I eventually settled on a
loose, dark red dress that went some way to disguising my big,
rounded curves and turned away from the mirror before I changed my
mind. Moving across the room, I took off the dress and my underwear
to set them down on the bed then went to have a shower. I dried
myself off afterwards and wrapped the large towel around my ample
chest before moving through to the bedroom and sitting at the
dressing table.

A glance at the alarm
clock on the bedside table showed it was coming up to midday, which
still gave me a few hours before I needed to be at the three
o’clock interview. It meant there was no immediate rush to get
ready, so I leaned forward to study my face and ran fingertips over
my smooth, unblemished skin. Makeup was something I never went
overboard on, partly because my face was cute enough without it
although more so because my boyfriend usually whined about me
wearing it. His accusations that I used makeup to get the attention
of other men were completely unfounded, but I’d learned if I wanted
to avoid his unreasonable jealousy it was easier to play by his
rules.

“It would be easier just
to leave him,” I muttered under my breath.

It was something I’d
considered in recent months as his controlling nature became ever
more difficult to live with, but there was a dread to striking out
on my own. It was a fear I couldn’t get over and so far it stopped
me acting on my impulses.

For once I decided to do
something for myself rather than worrying about what my boyfriend
would think, so went ahead and used mascara, eye shadow, blusher
and lipstick to get the look I wanted.

“Hot girl,” I said with a
grin when I stared at myself before picking up a brush to run it
through my long, blonde tresses.

I decided to go for a
practical style and worked my hair to a ponytail then moved across
to the clothes I’d laid out on the bed to get dressed.

“What now?” I asked my
reflection while I stood staring at myself in the wardrobe
mirror.

It was coming up to twelve
thirty and would only take me around twenty five minutes to get in
to town, but I couldn’t face just sitting around in the apartment.
That would only allow my anxiety about the impending interview to
escalate and I needed to do something to stay busy.

“Shopping,” I let out as
the idea came to me.

Not that I could really
afford to buy anything, but window shopping in town would give me a
chance to stay on the move and keep myself occupied. As it turned
out, that proved more difficult to do than I imagined and when I
eventually got to the office building where I hoped to work, my
mind was in overdrive. I tried to think positive thoughts during
the wait to be called in, but it was a mixture of excitement and
trepidation I was feeling when I stepped through the door of the
interview room.

 

Chapter 2

 

“You’re…, Katie Carter,”
an older woman said and looked up from the piece of paper she read
my name from.

“Yes,” I confirmed when I
sat down at the desk.

“I’m Mrs. Allen,” the
woman said and smiled. “But call me Jeannie.”

I nodded my head, but said
nothing and waited for the woman to go on.

“You’ve just finished your
journalism degree at college,” Jeannie said.

“Around six weeks ago,” I
replied.

“Is this your first
interview?”

“Yes,” I confirmed. “When
I saw the chance of a trainee fashion correspondent, it was
something I wanted to do.”

“It’s a subject that
interests you then,” Jeannie said and leaned forward.

“As much as any girl,” I
replied and smiled. “I wouldn’t put myself forward as an expert on
it, but I take an interest in the latest designs and looks and I’m
willing to learn.”

Jeannie nodded her
head.

“Have you ever done any
fashion writing before?” she asked.

I almost let out a sigh,
but held it in as I shook my head.

“No,” I replied. “Will
that count against me?”

Jeannie was silent for a
few seconds and I screwed up my face in expectation of the
interview ending before it even got started.

“Cards on the table,” the
older woman said. “There were three applicants for the job and
you’re the only one that has journalism qualifications.”

“OK,” I replied. That
sounded like it was in my favor.

“The situation I’m in is
the newspaper has agreed that I can start publishing a fashion
supplement for the Sunday edition,” Jeannie went on. “It will be a
four page insert to start with, but I need help if I’m going to
make it work. The owner agreed I could take on a new member of
staff to help.”

“OK,” I
repeated.

The interview wasn’t going
as I expected, but I seemed to be edging towards a job without even
having to sell myself.

“What I need is someone
that can write me good articles from day one and help make this
supplement a success,” Jeannie said. “That means having a basic
understanding of the fashion industry and a willingness to work
hard. The finer points of what is required I can teach them on the
job.”

“Is it purely working on
the supplement?” I asked.

“No,” Jeannie answered.
“There will be regular articles needed as well to fill column
inches on hot topics and breaking news in the fashion world. It
will be a lot of work, but it’s decent pay for a trainee and you’ll
get plenty of experience.”

I hesitated to ask the
question that popped in my head, but in the end couldn’t help
myself.

“Does that mean I’m going
to be offered the job?”

Jeannie was silent for a
few seconds before nodding her head.

“Your qualifications are
top class and the example articles you sent were good quality,” she
said. “You also come across well, even if we have only been talking
for a few minutes. I think we can work together.”

I resisted the urge to
pump my fist and over the next forty minutes or so listened to
Jeannie giving me more details of what the job entailed. It seemed
to be the excellent opportunity I thought it would be when I
applied and I was more than happy to get on board. It meant
starting work the very next day, but I didn’t have a problem with
that and agreed to it straight away.

It was after four o’clock
when I left the office building having secured my very first job.
When I saw the small coffee shop opposite, I couldn’t resist the
idea of treating myself as a way of celebrating. The cream cake and
chocolate-flavored smoothie tasted delicious, but I felt slightly
guilty about easting them once they were finished.

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