Seduced By My Billionaire Boss (The Billionaire Boss Series, #1) (6 page)

“Just don’t, okay?” I pleaded between gasps. “I can’t handle you right now.”

The walls had come down, and names no longer mattered. We were two people, the same age, flirting/trying-not-to-be-flirted-with at the gym. There was nothing more to it.

“You don’t have to handle me at all.” He held up his hands innocently. “I’ll do all the handling, I promise.”

I snorted and shoved him away from me as I hopped up onto the treadmill. Instead of taking the one next to me, he sat directly across, casually lifting weights and pretending not to look my way. I bit my lip to keep from smiling and turned up the speed to run faster.

The problem with Michael was, he wasn’t a bad guy. It wasn’t like I could just write him off and feel okay about it. In fact, aside from being entirely too bold, he actually seemed like a great guy. He was forward, sure, but he was charming and utterly adorable about it. And then of course...there was that face.

In a different life, who knows?

All I knew for sure was that it wasn’t going to happen in this one.

“Jenna, can I ask you a question?”

I tried to glare at him, still biting my lip to keep from smiling. “What.”

“Are these weights making me come off as...too powerful?”

I barked with laughter and missed a step, throwing my hands onto the rail so I wouldn’t fall.

“I’m being serious. I don’t want to look too strong or attractive—it can be off-putting to some people.” He shook his head as if exasperated by the problem. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just take my shirt off.”

“Enough, okay!”

I turned off the machine and got to the floor, panting. He was up in an instant, standing by my side and looking just as frazzled as me.

“Finally—I haven’t had to work this hard to get someone into bed since maybe the sixth grade.” I shot him a disbelieving look, and he nodded sagely. “Mariana Cabral. And she only spoke Portuguese. It was painfully difficult to communicate what I was trying to do.”

“You are freaking unbelievable.”

He flashed a winning smile. “You say that now...”

“Just
stop
.” I giggled, smacking him on the shoulder.

“Fine,” he frowned, “but only until you re-hydrate. It’s not fair seducing you like this. I don’t want to give myself any unfair advantages.”

He snapped his fingers and in the blink of an eye, two coconut waters appeared on a tray in front of us. By the time I looked up, the attendant was already gone. I stared around in wonder as Michael took a long sip. My gym had attendants? I was almost tempted to snap my fingers and see what happened, but Michael was staring at me again, and I went back on guard.

“So...you really held your own during the presentation today.”

I flashed him a quick look, unsure as to whether he was messing with me, and he threw back his head and laughed.

“I’m serious—not many people could go toe to toe with Tom like that. You really know your stuff.”

I sank my face into my hands, pushing back my bangs. “It was a nightmare. I had no idea what was even going on...”

He nodded understandingly. “I feel that way about staff meetings all the time.”

I laughed again and cast him another sideways look. “Yeah, your last name aside, you don’t really strike me as...the businessman type.”

He flashed me a quirky smile. “Contrary to public belief, not every small child actually wants to grow up in a conference room. Tom was born in a suit. That’s...that’s not me.”

I cocked my head, genuinely interested. “So why do it?”

“Dad.” He shrugged simply. “It’s my name on the side of the building. I don’t really have a choice. If I did...well, I wouldn’t have picked finance.”

I mulled this over for a moment, running through what I knew about him in my head. Both boys had gone to Oxford, and Michael had followed it up with Princeton, just like me. In fact, I think I’d only missed him by a year. He made the Dean’s list every semester and graduated from both schools with honors. It seemed like a lot to do...just for dad.

Then again...his dad was Abe Larchwood.

“And to think,” I sighed wistfully, “that Ivy League education could have gone to waste.”

“Hey,” he grinned sharply, “I never said I was stupid. I’m bored. And I don’t give a shit about China. There’s a difference.”

I grinned as well before my mind traveled back to the presentation and the smile faded.

“You seem to be the only one in your family to feel that way.”

He gave me a quick once-over before laughing shortly. “Yeah, not like Tom. Tom lives for work. But you probably figured that out today.”

I looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

“You’re an impossibly attractive woman and the only thing he noticed about you were your notes.”

*   *   *

I
was still mulling over those words when I went to bed that night. Still mulling them over as I brushed my teeth the next morning. Still turning them over in my head when my phone screamed at me from the counter. I spat out a mouthful of foam and snatched it up in the same second. It was my ringtone for work.

“Hello?”

“Miss Harks?”

I nearly choked—it was my supervisor. At last, here was the tongue-lashing for yesterday’s bizarre performance. If my luck held, I might actually get fired.

“Ms. Macer,” I started nervously, “what can I—”

“Harks, there’s no time. Do you remember when I promised Trask we’d give him the first draft of the formal proposal on Wednesday, and he bumped it up to Tuesday?”

A tangible feeling of dread began hardening in my stomach. “Yes...”

“Well, he just bumped it up to Monday.”

My eyes widened, and I held the phone with both hands. “You’re kidding me.”

It was impossible. It quite simply couldn’t be done. There weren’t enough hours between now and Monday to even attempt it.

“Miss Harks, I know you’re new, but if there’s one thing you’ll learn about me, it’s that I’m never kidding. I’m going to need you to get started on this right away.”

“Of—of course!” I raced back to my bedroom and started one-handed stripping, simultaneously fumbling around in my closet for work clothes. “What do you need me to do?”

“China.”

I paused, one foot still in the air. The entire merger was with China.

“What...does that mean?”

“Harks, I hate to do this to you. Lord knows you had enough on your plate with this being your first week and all, but we need this. You just spent the last night learning all of this by heart, and you certainly proved you knew your stuff at the presentation yesterday.”

Proved I knew how to be a human piñata was more like it.

“Ms. Macer, I just don’t think I can—”

“I’m not asking you to do the whole thing. PR is handling human relations, legal will be refining the language, Jamie’s writing the section on all future contingencies, and me and the rest of the team are mapping out past and present risk assessment. All I need you to do is figure out where we start with both companies
now
. The actual
merger
, part of the merger.”

So...write the merger.

My automatic whirlwind of refusals and denials caught in my throat with a single word.

Larchwood.

This was what it took.

All at once, my priorities shifted. The limits and capabilities of what I could do suddenly stretched beyond the horizon. That confident girl was back. And she’d come just in time.

“I’m going to need copies of all the latest stock reports sent to my fax immediately—the home number is on file. And I’m going to need constant access with whatever regional director has been assigned to this part of the project. I don’t want to be emailing back and forth trying to get approval for each new section—I need someone on the ground.”

I found myself throwing out commands like a seasoned general, and what was even more surprising was that Macer didn’t bat an eye.

“Of course—whatever you need. The papers are already coming through.”

I heard my fax machine buzzing from the living room, followed by the sound of a hundred papers falling to the floor.

“And as for the regional director—this is technically Michael’s territory. He’ll be your liaison for the day.”

An image of a glistening, mouthwatering Michael grinning up at me from beneath the weights flashed through my mind, and I faltered.

“Um, actually... Not that there’s a problem, but if anyone else was available—”

She completely ignored this. “I’m texting you his number. Call his cell and arrange a time to meet. I suggest you make it sooner rather than later.”

My mouth went dry, but I shook my head and made a spur of the moment decision to just make the best of it. Michael was capable, after all. No matter how hard he tried to hide it.

“Alright—I’ll get on it right away.”

I was about to hang up when I heard her voice echoing again through the phone—as uncertain and anxious as I’d ever heard it.

“Harks?”

I froze in place, caught off guard by her hesitation. “Yes?”

“I appreciate it.”

Then the line clicked off.

I stared at it for a moment before Rose’s sleepy voice broke through my reverie. “Jen? Do you know that there’s a mountain of papers piling up in the living room?” I heard her start the coffee maker and said a silent prayer of relief. “I think someone’s trying to send you a book.”

“I’ll be there in a minute!” I called, still rooting around in my closet.

I had pulled out my normal work attire, thinking it to be appropriate, but after hearing that I was going to be working with Michael, I was rethinking it. After a moment, I decided that he would appreciate a more casual take on the day, and went from my closet to my dresser—pulling out a pair of black jeans and a simple, stylish shirt. He wore jeans to the office, maybe this was how he liked to work. And I needed him focused today, damnit. There was no time for his usual games.

I yanked on the clothes and tried unsuccessfully to run a brush through my tousled bed hair. In the end, I decided that ‘grunge chic’ would have to be acceptable and whipped out my cell phone again as I pulled on my shoes. I dialed the number Patti had sent over and waited on pins and needles for him to pick up.

After three languid rings, there was finally a noise on the other end.

“Who is this?” came a sleepy voice, half muffled by a pillow. “How did you get this number?”

“Michael? It’s me—Jenna.”

“...from the gym?”

I rolled my eyes in exasperation. “From your
work
, genius. Listen, Trask bumped up the draft for the merger to Monday, and I’m going to need you to meet me at the office as soon as possible.”

There was a brief pause, and I heard the rustling of sheets.

“Is this a joke? Who
is
this?” A loud yawn. “I think you want my brother.”

Truer words had never been spoken. This was most definitely a job for the older Larchwood brother, not the younger. But I’d work with what I had.

“Michael, this isn’t a dream. You need to wake up. This is Jenna. The girl from the office and the gym—the one who won’t go out with you. You need to put your feet on the ground and have someone get you coffee because this is going to be a really long day. I need you to work with me on this, buddy. Okay? Now what’s going on—are you up?”

“Oh...
Jenna
.”

“I swear, Michael!”

There was chuckling on the other end.

“I’m only joking. Alright, I’m up. And yes—I’ll help you with your little dilemma.”

I bit my lip in exasperation. As if he had a choice.

“But only because I think it’s adorable you went through all this trouble just to get my phone number.”

The phone was trembling in my hand and I was trying my best not to shout. “What are we—twelve?! This is serious, Michael!”

“And I’m taking it seriously, Jenna.”

I heard him walking around now and closed my eyes in relief. At least I knew he wasn’t going to hang up and fall right back to sleep.

“Only one thing,” he continued.

“What’s that?” I asked, the smile fading from my face.

“I’m not really feeling the office today. I’ll send a car around to pick you up.”

I threw up my hands in utter exasperation.

“Wait! Where do you—”

“Jenna, I’m sending a car.”

“Y
ou have got to be kidding me.”

The town car that had inexplicably found my address and picked me up ten minutes later had doubled back the way it came and pulled to a stop in front of the most extravagant luxury hotel in Manhattan. There were socialites and movie stars milling about in the front lobby, as a white-gloved waiter passed around a tray of morning champagne.

My eyes narrowed, and I slid back further into my seat. “He got us a
hotel
room?!”

“Oh no,” the driver—a man whose named turned out to be Frank—reassured me, “Mr. Larchwood owns the whole top floor.”

I absorbed this in silent shock for a moment, before, “So he had you bring me to his house?!” That was even worse!

“Well,
pent
house, but yes. Mr. Larchwood told me to bring you directly home. Or rather, to
his
home.” Frank looked as though this was perfectly normal.

The
nerve
of this man!

“He also said if you refused, to remind you that he’s the boss, and it’s best not to make him mad.”

I blinked. “You can tell him that this is sexual harassment.”

“It’d be better if you told him yourself,” the man said.

I rolled my eyes and gathered up my purse. “I’m going to kill him.”

“Oh—he also said if you said that, not to let you inside.”

“Relax, Frank, I’ll spare his life.” I got out of the car and stepped onto the curb. “...Maybe.”

I made my way rather nervously inside—wishing I’d stuck with my more professional attire—and got swept along with a crowd headed toward the elevator. On the way there, a white-gloved hand tapped my shoulder, and I had a small heart attack. They weren’t going to throw me out, were they? Just for being underdressed?

I turned around slowly, staring into the face of a middle-aged server. “Um, yes?”