Curves Envy 3 - Claimed By An Alpha: BBW Billionaire Romance (11 page)

“My sweet Candy, you’re no longer alone and from what Deidra tells me, she’s taken quite the liking to you. I’ve known her for many years and she doesn’t like everyone, but she adores you.”

“Those words mean so much to me, Max.”

“Get used to it. I can’t erase the dreadful day your parents died, but I can protect you from now on.”

“Oh.” I’m so moved by his comment, I can’t believe he feels so strongly about me. I’m so utterly happy right now the words fail me.

“You’re all mine now.”

Max is still sitting at my feet. He grabs both my hands in his and brings them to his lips and I fold my body to kiss the top of his head.

I love hearing those intoxicating words roll off his tongue.

Chapter 8

I can’t believe I’m wrapping up my second week back from Miami. Things have been non-stop since returning home and I’ve barely had time to catch my breath since landing back at JFK thirteen days ago.
Thank God it’s Friday.

The first week back has been a whirlwind of frenetic activities, meetings and hookups with Devin, Lexi and Lia. I also had to make it up to my cat, Leo DiCaprio, who has been feeling quite neglected since I left him with Devin during the time I was away.

The first day back was the most exhilarating because my CNN feature made it to the first page of their living section and the entire company was buzzing. The VPs were so thrilled, they came down to congratulate me with gifts in hand—a huge bouquet of flowers, a gift certificate for one of the premier spas in the city and dinner for two at the fabulous French restaurant Jean George, housed in the Trump Tower. At two hundred dollars per person for the tasting menu, I know it will be a night to remember. Of course, Max will be my date for the swanky occasion.

Everyone in the office was genuinely excited for me except my boss. She gave it her best shot, but Jennifer’s cold congratulations did nothing to hide her disgust at the fact I’d been featured on such an illustrious publication—me, a person she could barely stand. Secretly, I relished how upset all this attention towards me made her feel.

As if the first week could be any more idyllic, I’ve spent every single evening cuddled in Max’s arms after my nightly dose of orgasms. Either he ended up banging me against every wall at his penthouse or we’d find refuge at my place where he’d ravish me so ravenously it would send my cat into hiding for hours from my climactic howls. I’ll admit, I was nervous as hell to invite Max to my humble apartment considering his palatial home with its spectacular view over Central Park, but he fit right in and never made me feel self-conscious about my place.

The only blip since my return has been Jennifer. I’ve been successful at dodging her since I came back from Miami. Last week was a piece of cake because she was in London meeting with new advertisers and the time difference played in my favor, but this second week has been more challenging. Luckily, she’s been too busy to corner me, but my luck runs out this morning when she pokes her head over my desk and demands we meet before lunch.

I honestly have no desire to sit down with her and talk about testing her stupid diet pills, but what can I do? She’s the one calling the shots.

On top of having to deal with Jennifer, this second week presents another more complex and heart-wrenching challenge—Max is on a business trip on the other side of the planet. They say patience is a virtue. Well, the past seven days must have transformed me into the most virtuous woman in Manhattan because I’ve never had to exercise so much fortitude in my life. I truly never thought it was possible to miss anyone as much as I’ve missed him. Max has occupied my thoughts during the day and he consumes my dreams at night. I’ve tried to relieve the yearning for him by touching myself when my desire felt like it was going to swallow me whole, but my best efforts pale in comparison to his masterful touch.

Thank God I’ll be able to sleep in his arms tonight. I don’t think I could stand another night alone.

Deidra, Max and his cousin Luana boarded the company’s private jet for an impromptu shopping trip to Mumbai in India to beef up their orders for the new line of plus-size kaftans they presented in Miami. The American and internal press went wild over the exotic prints designed to showcase curvaceous figures and as a results, orders have been pouring in by the truckload. Within a few hours of hitting the first page of most online fashion pages, Splash Swimwear’s new colorful and bright tunic collections became the hottest-selling item.

Unfortunately, Max’s hectic schedule and the time difference have put a serious damper on our sexting and raunchy Skype video chats. I don’t know if masturbating in front of your boyfriend on video can still be considered chatting, but it’s been my only salvation.

My lifeline is the fact Max should be back in the city by midday. Thank God I’ll be able to spend all of the next week with him during our trip to Brazil for the fashion show.

After forcing myself to put my nose to the grindstone, I manage to get a couple of hours of solid writing done before my phone interrupts my rhythm. Before accepting Lexi’s call, I realize with dread my inevitable meeting with Jennifer is coming up. I have to face the bitch in less than fifteen minutes.

With a heavy sigh, I pick up the phone, hoping my friend will cheer me up before we meet for lunch in the Wall Street district near her office. “Hey, Lexi.”

“Candy, how are you?”

“Better now. I know once I’m done with my meeting with Jennifer, you and I will be able to connect.”

“About lunch…”

“Oh, no, please don’t tell me you have to cancel. I’m looking forward to seeing a friendly face—especially after I’ve had to stare at Maleficent for God knows how long.”

“Sorry, hun. There are a couple of startups going into IPO in two weeks and I still have so much work to do to line up private investors.”

“English, please. What does IPO mean?”

She laughs before launching into financial geek mode. “Initial public offering is a type of public offering in which shares of stock in a company are sold to investors before being sold to the general public.”

“Right.”

“I know you find all this boring and dry, but I love it. In any case, I’m stuck here crunching numbers and calling potential investors. Can we connect next week? I’ll be away at a weekend training in the coming days.”

“I’ll be in Brazil with Max.”

“I forgot. I thought your Adonis was in India this week. Is he flying directly to South America?”

“You mean my
boyfriend?”
I whisper in a hushed voice. No one at work knows Max and I are seeing each other. Although nothing in my employee contract precludes me from fucking clients, we decided to keep things quiet for now.

“Yeah, your lover,” she mocks.

“He’s coming back in town first. I’m counting the minutes, Lexi,” I confess, covering my mouth to muffle my voice.

“God, the two of you make me believe it’s possible.”

“It is, honey. If you weren’t chained to your laptop working on charts that make you go cross-eyed all day, you’d realize he’s out there.”

There’s a long pause on the other end and I worry I might have been too harsh with my comment.

“I’ve been thinking about a lot of things in my life since your hookup. I’m still not sure I can allow myself to go there.”

I hide under my desk before speaking. “Lexi, I know your mother was a monster, but you can’t let the bitch mess with your emotions like she has since you were born. The two of you don’t even live in the same city anymore since she moved with her loser of a boyfriend to Nevada. You owe it to yourself to transcend the atrocities she subjected you to until you ran away.”

“I hear you, Candy. Easier said than done. Well, it’s…”

I can’t make out Lexi’s words anymore because a pair of expensive Gucci shoes have parked themselves right under my nose.
This is not good.
Slowly I unfold my body and I meet Jennifer’s dark eyes.
Fuck.
My mind is racing trying to find a way to save my ass.
Think fast, Candy.

Without warning, I switch gears on Lexi. “I’m sorry, but as I’ve said before, it was an absolute honor to be featured on CNN.com, but it would never have happened without
Sassy
magazine. I’d absolutely love to talk more about my work here, but can I get back to you on an interview? I’m afraid I’m late for a meeting.” I congratulate myself for having the guts to lie like I did while holding Jennifer’s suspicious gaze.
High-five to me.

When I end my call with Lexi, I smile warmly, knowing Jennifer will be furious at the idea another media outlet was calling to interview me.

“I apologize, Jennifer, for being late. I’ve been trying to ward off this reporter, but she’s so persistent. Let me grab my notepad and follow you to your office,” I say, getting up before she has time to respond. I walk past her, but I’m still able to hear the contempt in her voice when she finally speaks.

“Other reporters are trying to interview you?”

I know it might seem unfathomable to you, but yeah, other people think my work is pretty amazing.
“Oh, yes. I’ve been getting calls nonstop since my return.” Although I’m walking a few steps in front of her and she’s silent, I can feel Jennifer’s anger seeping through her pores.

When we reached her office, I stand at the door and let her in, following her inside. She crosses the room and sinks into her lofty leather chair before steepling her perfectly manicured fingers in front of her custom-built desk. She looks at me for a few seconds from over her designer glasses—Gucci, of course—before flashing an icy half smile.

“My, you’ve become so popular lately. It’s hard to keep up.”

Bitch.
What have I ever done to this woman to deserve such contempt?

“It’s surreal, isn’t?” I say, crossing my feet at my ankles as I roll my eyes before tilting my head to the left.

“I would have chosen a different word, but yeah, let’s go with surreal.”

Honestly, her vendetta towards me seems to extend beyond the short time we’ve been working together. “I guess we all have different ways of expressing ourselves.” Yeah, I know I’m adding vinegar to an open wound, but I can’t help it. She rubs me the wrong way.

“I know you’ll be gone next week with Mr. Keller to the Rio Moda Week and I wanted us to talk about the package I dropped off at your desk before you left for Miami. What do you think of the product?”

Oh, no. I totally forgot to take these home with me. They must be at the bottom of my filing cabinet.
I so have to make a mental note to grab them tonight before leaving.
“You mean the diet pills?”

“No. I mean the cleansing pills. I believe they would help support our readers’ weight-loss goals.”

Who the hell said our readers wanted to lose weight?

“Jennifer, I thought the plus-size magazine was supposed to celebrate every woman regardless of the number flashing at her on the scale.”

“Point taken, but some of them may want to see a smaller number flashing back at them.”

Did she actually spew that shit out?

“I see.” I tread carefully, still unsure why she’s pushing these so much. “Is this for a feature or will BoostaSlimz buy ads with us?”

“Maybe both if the product helps you shed some pounds. The owners of BoostaSlimz-X30 Green Tea & Ginger Cleansing Total-Body System has very deep pockets, Candy, and they’re looking to park several millions of dollars in the magazine in the coming year
.
”
God, she sounds like she’s their representative.

With Max it was different since we’re running several editorial features on his three collections and it doesn’t involve using my body for a laboratory study. She’s never been so persistent before. Not to mention we have a VP of sales and I don’t understand why she’s taking so much interest in this new advertiser when Tiffany Crawford is one of the top salespeople in the industry—the woman can sell snow to Eskimos.
I’m not willing to be the guinea pig.
This would be the first time I’d be ingesting a product to review it and I don’t feel comfortable with the whole concept, especially given the fact it’s impossible to find any thing on the Internet about the company. I mean we live in an age where you can get ten pages of review on the best cupcake shops or vibrators, but no one has anything to say about BoostaSlimz.

For the next twenty-five minutes, she shares the gospel of BoostaSlimz—I know she’s been talking this long because I’ve been glancing any chance I get at the clock on the table behind her. I’m sure she’s met with the owners or VPs of the company behind these pills, but she seems to know an awful lot about someone else’s product. She throws studies in front of me, photos of so-called phenomenal thirty-day transformations and eight pages of glowing testimonials, none of which I’ve been able to find on the web. I flip with little interest while she’s still yapping away.
My God, has she even taken a breath since she kicked off her spiel?

Right when I think I’d rather jump out of the twentieth floor instead of listen to another word coming out of her month, her phone rings. She looks down at the number before picking up.
Don’t bother letting me know you’ll be a minute.
She mumbles a few things and from what I can make of it, it must be Yvette Donnelly, her assistant. I occupy myself by flipping through the massive pile of information Jennifer has handed me, praying she’ll have to cut this excruciating meeting short.

Jennifer hangs up. “I’m going to have to stop here. My assistant reminded me if I don’t hop in a cab soon, I’ll be late for my meeting with Jessica Lewis. She’s an up-and-coming shoe designer who’s raising eyebrows in the fashion community for all the right reasons. Her team has invited Gillian Lloyd, our editor of accessories, and me to visit their showroom to check out their newest collection. I doubt I’ll be back in the office because traffic will be horrendous later. Since it’s Friday, I’ll head home to be with my son and husband. I’d love for us to continue our discussion when you get back from your trip to Brazil. Perhaps you might consider starting your
cleanse
before you leave.”