Sleeping With My Boss: A Standalone Novel (An Alpha Billionaire Romance Love Story) (A Dirty Office Romance) (12 page)

CHAPTER 14

Lilah

I hadn't been able to stop thinking about Saturday
night. In fact, it had been on my mind since Asher had left my place so
abruptly. The concealed tragedy of his past, his immense strength, and
perseverance in getting through it and becoming the man he is. And, more than
all of that, his willingness to open up to me about it all.

We hadn't spoken since he’d left that night. In all
honesty, I wouldn’t have known what to say if we had. I'd seen a side of him
that I hadn't known had existed. It was a side I was convinced he didn’t reveal
to many people. I wondered what it meant in terms of how he saw me and the
emotions that simmered just below the surface every time he and I were
together.

My attraction for him was getting harder and harder to
deny and even harder to resist. I'd had my guard up for so long, I'd almost
forgotten what it was like to let someone in. Yet, here was this powerful man
opening up to me. I wondered if perhaps he had done so in the hope that I'd
open up to him.

I'd wanted to. That night, after he had told me all
those things about his past, about his family and those deep, painful
secrets–of which I suspected there were more–I'd wanted to open up to him as
well, to tell him more about my past, my own secrets. To feel vulnerable again,
vulnerable and totally open with another person. It had been so long since I
last felt that.

In fact, I questioned if I had ever truly opened up to
anyone. Even with Jacob, I knew I had always held something back. I had
justified it to myself by thinking once we were married, I’d tear down what was
left of the walls.

Maybe that’s what I was still doing. Because, on the
other side of the coin were the feelings of harsh resolve, of defiance, of
fierce independence. I'd been so strong on my own, why should I weaken myself
and open myself up to another person? What would the point of that be?
Especially this man, the embodiment of sheer power and might, who possessed an
empire
.

He was so used to getting exactly what he wanted, so
used to not being defied or refused by anyone—did he think that by simply being
vulnerable in front of me that I'd lay back and let him have his way? He was
immensely intelligent, and I was fully aware of this. So, was this just a
tactic, a page in his seduction playbook?

I shook my head and applied pressure to my temples.
There were far too many conflicting thoughts whirling around inside my head at
the moment. I was due to go in to the office to help Asher out with wrapping up
the Harry Winston campaign at seven, which was only an hour away, and it would
do me no good to go in the state of mind I was in. I needed to be crisp, clear,
and focused.

I stripped off my clothes and headed into the
bathroom. A hot shower followed by a brief period of meditation would be
exactly what I needed before the evening began.

It was going to be a long and busy week, and it was
essential that I approached it in the right state of mind.

I stepped into the shower, turned on the water, and
sighed as the hot jets pelted my skin. Not only was it going to be a busy week,
but it was going to be interesting…very interesting.

***

“That's it. That's the last touch. We're done,” I
announced

A look of relief crossed Asher's face as he stood from
his desk after having sent the final file through. He stretched and then
chuckled.

“It's been a long week, huh?”

I smiled and stood from my side of the desk.

“It has. But we've been productive as hell, haven't
we? I feel pretty confident that this campaign is as good as it can possibly
be. I think they're about to see yet another spike in sales.”

“I think so, too, Lilah. I think so, too. Come on,
shut your computer down and then we can get the hell out of here. I love
working, don't get me wrong, but we've been cooped up in here for what,
thirteen, fourteen hours every day this week? I think it's about time for some
R and R.”

It was Friday, and Asher and I had yet to speak about
last Saturday. We had both danced around anything personal the whole week,
doing our best to stay totally focused on getting the job done, and getting it
done well. And we'd achieved that with flying colors. But without that to focus
on, I was feeling just like I could only guess he was feeling—a strange
combination of exhausted, energized, and slightly awkward.

Something had to give. And, if past experience with
Asher was any indication, having a drink could prove to be exactly what was
needed to quell all of those.

“I don't know about you,” I ventured, “but I'm feeling
like… I don't know, like doing something. I mean, I'm tired, but I don't want
to just go home and sleep. I feel like it'd be a waste given that I'm still
pretty pumped from the excitement of wrapping this thing up successfully.”

“I hear you,” he said. “Maybe we should be doing
something to celebrate. But, to be honest, I don't really feel up to going out
someplace where I have to deal with people. I’m psyched up, but not that
energetic.”

“Well, I have a bottle or two of bubbly at my place
that’s been waiting for me to not open it all by my lonesome. If you'd like to
come over and have a drink, I feel like this is as good a time as any to pop it
open. We do have something to celebrate, after all.”

Asher smiled that crooked smile of his that does
something to my insides. “That sounds great. I'll shut everything down here and
then meet you there shortly.”

A wave of unexpected excitement rushed through me.
“I’ll go ahead then. See you at my place.”

***

“Another glass?” I asked with a sly grin, feeling all
warm and tingly from the champagne I was definitely drinking too quickly.
Somehow, though, I'd stopped caring about retaining absolute control. In fact,
I was ready to lose control completely. Everything that had been so bottled up
inside over the past weeks was threatening to spill out and bubble over, and I
was pretty damned close to being ready to let that happen.

“Fill it up,” he said with a smile.

I filled our glasses and took a seat next to him on
the sofa. We'd been laughing and joking, edging closer and closer to each other
on the sofa after starting out at opposite ends when we'd first opened the
bottle.

“You did a fantastic job on the Harry Winston case,”
Asher told me yet again. “I know I've already said it a thousand times, but
seriously, you've impressed me. And, that’s not an easy task. Your work ethic
and dedication are off the charts. I'm not sure how you came up with the concept
you did, but it's been an honor to take it to its conclusion with you.”

I blushed. I couldn’t help it. It was obvious that his
words weren’t mere flattery, but rather, a true compliment that came from the
heart.

“Thank you,” I replied quietly. It's been a real
pleasure working with you. I've learned so much in such a short amount of time.
I never dreamed I'd be given so many opportunities to improve my craft and hone
my skills so quickly. And, being around someone as dedicated and inspired–and
immensely talented–as you and your team has really given me inspiration to push
and challenge myself.”

A smile tugged at his lips as he sipped his champagne.
“I'm glad you feel that way,” he said. “The inspiration has been working both
ways, I'll have you know. Before you came along, I felt a bit stuck on the
Harry Winston thing. It was if I'd hit some sort of rut. I'm not sure why, but
I just wasn't feeling the fire in my veins the way I have in previous years and
previous campaigns. But since you came along, you’ve breathed new life into
this campaign—and my company. I've felt like my old self again.”

I wasn't sure how to interpret his last comment and
even less certain how I should respond. What I was certain of was that it
caused my heart to start beating a little faster and my breathing had
quickened. I couldn’t help wondering if it was as obvious to him as it was to
me. And because I was completely out of my element and the conversation was
taking us to a place I wasn't sure I was ready to go to yet, to put it simply…I
panicked.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” I blurted out. I
clearly have the worst defense strategies possible when my nerves kick in.

“Sounds good,” he answered with a bit of a chuckle
under his breath. Apparently, he recognized the abrupt subject change. How
could he not?

“Let me have a look at what's on Netflix.”

I fumbled with the remote for a few moments and then
brought up the Netflix menu and we started scanning through the list of movies.

“What do you feel like watching?” I asked.

“Oh, hmm. How about something classic?”

“How 'classic' are you talking? I mean, that's a
broadly defined term in this day and age, you know. Like, black and white
classics from the ’50s or ’60s? Or are we talking auteur stuff from the ’70s?
Cult classics from the ’80s and ’90s?”

He grinned and sipped on his drink like he was
stifling his amusement. “Sounds like someone's a bit of a film buff,” he said
with a grin.

I squinted an eye at him. “Don’t laugh, but it’s
possible I was in cinema club at high school.”

“No, no, that's awesome! It's refreshing to meet
someone who's into the art of film.”

“Yeah, well, I always have been. It was kind of my
outlet from the real world when I was growing up.”

“I've met Martin Scorsese, you know,” he said with a
smile. “Worked with James Cameron, as well. Great guy, James. He's very into
saving the environment these days.”

I crooked up on corner of my mouth and then drank a
sip of champagne. “You aren't trying to impress me by name-dropping, are you?”
I asked with a wink.

He laughed. “Maybe,” he replied with a subtle smile.
“Maybe I was.”

I edged a little closer to him on the sofa without
thinking about it, instinctively. I didn't remember consciously choosing to do
so. Still, it felt right, somehow.

“All right, well since you're in the mood for
something classic, but you didn't say just how classic, I'm going to pick a
decade,” I said. “And, I'm going to go with the ’80s. How does that sound?”

“I'm an eighties baby, so, that sounds perfect.”

“All right, let's see what Netflix has to offer in
that category. Hmm, we've got
Groundhog Day, Batman, Sixteen Candles,
Willow, Return of the Jedi, The Breakfast Club, Die Hard, The Terminator
. Anything
jumping out at you?”
Asher took a sip of his champagne before answering. “You know, I've never seen
The
Breakfast Club
—and references to it get dropped so often that I feel like
I'm missing out. It's one of those I’ve always meant to see, but never got
around to.”

“Wow. I feel like I should be giving you grief right
now. We must remedy this injustice. Jeez. I thought it was a requirement to
have seen
The Breakfast Club
at least
three times if you grew up in the eighties.”

“Well, how many times have you seen it?”

“Hmmm…at least a dozen. And, I've been meaning to
watch it again for ages. Tell you what, I've got some popcorn in the kitchen;
I'll go whip up a batch—the old fashioned way on the stove, with loads of
butter and salt, of course.”

He laughed. “That sounds awesome! Didn't take you for
someone who enjoys spending much time in the kitchen.”

“It's not really my thing, but you need to understand
how seriously I take movies! And, a movie is not a movie without real popcorn.
Not that microwave, pre-flavored crap!”

“Hahaha! All right, all right. You go
whip it up
. I'll wait here.”

I got up and headed to the kitchen. The weight of his
stare followed me. When I'd gotten home, I'd changed out of my work attire into
something more comfortable: a simple jeans and T-shirt combo. And while I knew
he’d stolen many a glance at me at the office dressed in my business suits—after
all, I picked them to accentuate my curves—it was flattering to know that when
I was dressed more simply, he still couldn't resist looking when he didn’t
think I was watching.

While I was making the popcorn in the kitchen, his
voice came echoing through from the living room. “Lilah, the champagne's done,
and I'm still kinda thirsty. You got anything else here or should I have a
courier deliver us something?”

I paused for a moment before I answered. I was already
feeling a little buzzed from the two bottles of champagne we'd already had. And
with all these feelings starting to boil over, I wasn't sure what would happen
if I got more alcohol in me and had my inhibitions lowered even more.

Not that I particularly cared at the moment.

“I have some vodka in the freezer and freshly squeezed
orange juice I picked up this afternoon. We could make screwdrivers, if you'd
like?”

“Screwdrivers! Ha, I don't think I've had one of those
in years. That sounds good.”

“I'll bring it all out with the popcorn.”

“Sounds great!”