Billionaire Erotic Romance Boxed Set: 7 Steamy Full-Length Novels (168 page)

I burned with fury. I imagined the coworkers down in the temp offices, being told they were only better than shit-throwing monkeys because they could refrain from defecating in their hands and throwing at each other. This man, Henderson, had no idea that the workers down in the temp offices worked hard at their jobs, hoping that they would someday be hired to an actual position where they could relax for one day with the knowledge that they would have a job tomorrow. What did he know about worrying about money?

“Did you play sports in college?”

The question threw me off. I was so busy being mad at the comments about my coworkers and friends being monkeys that I thought I had misheard him.

“Excuse me?” I asked, bewildered.

“Did you play sports in college?” Henderson repeated slowly, as if he was speaking to someone who didn’t speak English and he was the kind of asshole who thought speaking slower and louder was going to help.

“Um, yeah I played soccer, but I didn’t stick with it past my sophomore year,” I replied, the memory flooding back to me. “I played soccer well. I would never have been a professional soccer player, that I always knew, but I loved playing. It kept me extremely fit and I loved the camaraderie with my teammates. I made relationships that I still have today, and I loved the game. But in one game I was struck in the shin and I fell, twisting my ankle so horribly that I was crying in pain until the ambulance arrived. I was sure that it was snapped, but I lucked out and it was only sprained. I was out from the game for the rest of the season and I filled my time with other activities at school. When the new season started, I decided to hang up the cleats for good. I still went to every game, but as a spectator. I yelled louder and harder than any other fan for my friends.”

“So you quit, I see. It’s so hard to keep up a commitment to something, even something as silly as a sport. Well, that’s too bad. I know Alex likes the sporty types. Very fit,” Henderson said, looking out the window as he said it, as if to himself.

But I hadn’t quit, not like that. Had Henderson known about me playing soccer? Had he had me vetted or something? And why?

I thought of the implications of what Alex likes in a woman and I felt a rush of anger. Henderson was beyond simple insinuation now.

“That’s nice for Mr. Strauss. As his personal assistant, I don’t see how I require any kind of information related to the type of people that Alex likes,” I said curtly. Also, I felt a pang of jealousy. Henderson was talking about Alex with other women. Other women who weren’t me. Who weren’t my type.

“Oh yes, of course,” Henderson said, smiling wide—the smile of a car salesmen trying to sell you a lemon. The smile of a born liar. “There have been many assistants before you, though, who definitely would have cared what type Alex was into. Many of them who were exactly that type.”

My face reddened. Just how many assistants had Alex had before me? And where were they all now? Samantha, I thought. Don’t let this guy get to you. He’s trying to hit you where it hurts and you’re falling into it like a stupid little girl.

“That probably explains why they aren’t around anymore. It sounds very unprofessional,” I said, forcing a small polite smile.

“I’ve known Alexander since he was a little boy, you know that, right?” Henderson asked, changing the subject quickly.

“I’m aware of your history with his father.”

“Yes, Max and I go way back. Alexander is a good boy, he really is, but you know I’m concerned about the company. I want what’s best for his father’s company. Max and I built this place from the ground up. It’d be a shame to see it all laid to waste by some sort of misguided altruistic endeavor. You should know that my loyalty is always to this company. Where do your loyalties lie?” Henderson eyed me. His voice sounded genuine. I paused and thought about his question for a minute. It was an honest question and it deserved an honest answer, regardless of whether it came from this vile man or not.

“My loyalties lie with Alexander Strauss sir, and through him my loyalties lie with the company, of course,” I answered thoughtfully.

“Well, then you and I are on the same page on at least one point. But Alex is going to ruin Strauss Engines with his save-the-world bullshit. The company has to make money,” Henderson said. He paused, looking out the window again. “Oh, why am I telling you all of this anyway.”

“You know, Alex is probably following the path of his mother,” I said.

Henderson’s eyes darkened as they turned on me. I saw something in them that made me recoil as if I had been struck. There was something dark in them. Something like hate.

“You know, a lot of professional mistresses work their way up the ladder from the temp offices. But not many make it all the way to Alexander Strauss’s office. Congratulations,” Henderson hissed.

I stepped back, speechless. No words would come to my lips and my mind drained to a blank void of darkness. I felt like Henderson had slapped me upside the head and screamed “whore” in my face.

He smiled an acid smile at me, turned, and walked out of the office, leaving the door wide open. I heard him greet the security guard with a friendly hello and with that he was gone. I sat down, shaking with fear and rage.

Chapter Thirteen

I left the Strauss Engines building unable to look at anybody directly in the face. I was too wrapped up in the anger over the conversation with Henderson. When I boarded the elevator, I simply told the security guard: “Main floor,” and then said nothing more. When the elevator reached the bottom floor and I fled, I realized that it was more than just anger that was making me avert the gaze of any person in the building. I was feeling ashamed.

Did I really sleep my way to the top? It was true that Alex and I had had sex very quickly when we were alone. How long had we talked before he had me pushed over his desk and fucked me from behind while I cried out in pleasure? Even through my shame, I felt myself come alive between my legs when I thought of that memory. My shame deepened and I practically ran outside.

Mr. Booth was dutifully waiting outside for me. I jumped in the back of the car and told him to take me home. All I wanted at that moment was to be away from everything and everyone. I needed a hot shower in my own bathroom and a strong drink. I had to think. Was what Henderson had said true? Was I just a professional mistress?

The car ride seemed so much longer than any of the other times I left the office. I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts. If I could only break down the events, maybe then I could make sense of just how I had come to be where I was. I was the assistant of Alexander Strauss, the CEO and namesake of Strauss Engines, a multi-billion dollar company. I now made astronomical money and I enjoyed luxuries that I had never known before. Had it really all happened because I stood up to the man after calling him an arrogant prick?

“A lot of professional mistresses work their way up the ladder from the temp offices,” Henderson’s voice rang out in my head.

I thought of all the things I could have said to Henderson that I couldn’t think to say at the time.

“You know, a lot of professional weasels slip their way up the top, riding the coattails of their brilliant friends,” I would have said.

But I hadn’t said it. I had simply sunk in my chair and accepted what he said without a fight. My anger welled up again at not giving Henderson my piece of mind. Yet it had caught me so off-guard in its harshness that I was left vulnerable and without a come-back. It was only minutes after I had come to recognize Henderson for a cunning man that he had proved me right without a shadow of a doubt.

Would Alexander Strauss entrust his mistress with the tasks that he had given me? I thought about it over and over again, trying to let an answer come to me without forcing it. No. It was too improbable that Alex would be so risky, especially since the climate of his company was so hostile, especially from the man that he believed was on his side. If Alex really thought of me as nothing more than a fun time, like those guys Emily enjoys so much, or his whore, like Henderson thinks of me as, then he wouldn’t be nearly as successful as he was. He would have ruined himself long ago.

No, Alex trusts very few people. He sent me to Beijing to negotiate one of the most crucial deals for the new water filters that were going to be the cornerstone of his entire company. I stopped my crazy train of thoughts and paused to consider the implications of this further. Alex had entrusted me with something major. And I had delivered. I had surprised him even. If I had started out as nothing more than a personal assistant that would also fulfill his sexual appetites, I knew that I had earned a new place in Alexander Strauss’s mind.

Henderson had misjudged me severely. I thought about this also. Maybe if he really thought of me as nothing more than some stupid mistress for Alex to enjoy sticking his dick into, I could use it to my advantage. No, to our advantage. Mine and Alex’s. I had meant it with all my heart when I told that weasel-faced bastard that my loyalties lie with Alex.

We arrived at my building. Mr. Booth stepped out of the car and led me into my building.

“I’m going to come with you to your apartment and do a sweep of it, just to be sure. Are you okay with that?” Mr. Booth asked.

I felt touched that he asked my permission. “Yes, but only on one condition,” I replied.

“And that is?”

“You tell me your first name.”

“Gary. Gary Booth, ma’am,” he said happily.

I followed Gary into my building and up the stairs. Behind him, I could see that he was a bodybuilder of a man, a mountain of muscles. Looking at him closely I felt a certain sense of relief. It was nice to know I had a little protection. Although he was by no means little.

Gary stopped when he reached my door. “Oh, Miss Dubois,” he said sadly.

I pushed him softly aside and walked up to my door. Taped to the front of my door was a large, two foot by four foot photo of me. I was standing in my perfectly tailored suit, looking sharp and professional. I was standing next to Alex at the press conference. The photo had captured me looking over at him, I looked as if I was biting my lip. Or lost in a sexual fantasy, I thought. Yet it wasn’t me in the photo that grabbed my attention. No, the first thing I noticed were big red letters written across the entire photo.

WHORE

I grabbed the photo and tore it down. Tears of white anger welled in my eyes. How long had this been taped to my door for every one of my neighbors to see? Somehow, I found myself caring what they all thought. I turned over the large photo and on the back was a clear message.

GO BACK TO WHERE YOU CAME FROM SLUT. WALK AWAY WHILE YOU CAN. OR ELSE.

Gary read the message and his voice turned graven. He gently moved me aside and entered my apartment. I prayed that there was no one in there, Gary looked primed for murder. Through the blistering rage at this public humiliation, I felt a certain fondness for Gary, who seemed just as outraged by this as I did. I decided then and there that I would keep this man as a bodyguard forever.

He looked down at the photo and put his massive hand on my shoulder. I was about to tear up the photo when he stopped me. “We should keep that, maybe we can figure out who did it.”

Gary was being smart. My knee-jerk reaction had been to tear it up as if to destroy the shame of it all. Maybe I could destroy everything behind the photo, but Gary had stopped me in time.

“I’ll get a plastic bag, then we’re going to Alex’s, okay?”

“You the boss,” Gary said.

I walked in my apartment and looked around. I felt like I was in an alien land. Twice today I had been called a whore, in different ways. A flash of anger soared through me when I thought of how many times men had used that word to hurt women. It had hurt me too, and that made me even angrier. I was no whore.

When I looked around my apartment, I realized it was the apartment of a woman who didn’t exist anymore. It was like it belonged to that scared freshman girl who was so terrified of embarrassing herself. Well, I thought. It’s time to leave this place.

I went into the kitchen and grabbed a large gallon plastic bag and slid the photograph carefully inside it, and then handed it to Gary. He took it silently. I thanked him.

I looked around again. The only things that I cared about at all in this apartment were the photographs. I’d come back for them later. Then, I would use my new salary to get myself a brand-new expensive apartment. One with a doorman.

“Let’s go, Gary,” I said.

We walked out and I got in the car. I wasn’t walking away from anything. And I was never going to go back to where I came from. I was moving forward. No one was going to tell me what to do.

Chapter Fourteen

I sat in the car, staring out at the city as it passed by me. I tried not to think about the photo of me with “whore” painted across it. I took out my cell phone and called Alex. He picked up after the third ring.

“Hello Samantha,” Alex said warmly.

“I need to see you, right away,” I said quickly.

A hint of alarm crept into his voice. “Has something happened? Are you in danger? Is Mr. Booth with you?”

If I hadn’t been so enwrapped in the drama of the photograph, I might have stopped to reflect on how Alex’s concern was sweet, but I was focused on the events of the day.

“Yes, Gary is with me. I’m not in any danger. Where are you?”

“I’ll be home in ten minutes,” Alex said. The calm had returned into his voice and he was once again the embodiment of collectedness.

“All right Alex, we’ll be there shortly,” I said and hung up. “Gary, we’re heading to Alex’s apartment building.”

“You got it boss,” Mr. Booth said.

I leaned back in my seat and tried to clear my mind. I tried to remember how to meditate from the one class I took on world religions during my sophomore year and all I could think about was counting my breaths. I relaxed after a few minutes and decided that once all this craziness was over, I was going to take an absurdly long bubble bath with a bottle of white wine. Hell, maybe two.