Sleeping With My Boss: A Standalone Novel (An Alpha Billionaire Romance Love Story) (A Dirty Office Romance) (2 page)

She paused for effect, to let everything she'd just
said sink in. And it did. After a few moments, she continued.

“Now that I've told you everything that's wrong with
the current campaign, let me tell you what I think we can do to
change
it, and to make it actually
work
. First of all, we have to completely
drop this Marlboro Muppet, Raiders of the Lost Dork shtick. It's lame, it's
tired, and it's overdone.

“We need something new, something fresh, something
crisp. Something that's going to sell this image, this lifestyle–because,
remember, that is what we're ultimately selling the public on: not simply a
watch. I've been thinking a lot about this, and I have an idea that will
totally kick start the heart of this campaign and not only revive it, but turn
it into a full-on
monster.
”

I chuckled. I couldn’t help it. This unconventional
woman had just proven that her appearance wasn’t all that was unpredictable
about her. After all, she’d just thrown a Mötley Crüe reference in and I wondered
if anyone else had picked it up. It seemed there was more to this woman than
the serious, go-getter image she was currently projecting.

Still, as attractive as I was finding her, I wasn't there
to think about that sort of thing. I needed to concentrate on her ideas. And
over the next twenty minutes, she presented some excellent ideas on how to turn
the campaign around. When she was done, I was impressed in a way I hadn’t been
by anyone in my company in some time.

After the meeting was over, I waited at the back of
the room for her to pack up her briefcase before I approached her.

“Hi,” I said, extending a hand. “I really enjoyed your
presentation. You have some rather interesting ideas.”

“Thanks,” she said glancing up at me with a smile—a
smile that immediately sent ripples of electricity coursing across my skin.

“I'm sorry, I don't think we've met,” she said. “I'm
Lilah Maxwell; and you are?”

“Andrew,” I replied. “Tell me, do you really think
Asher Sinclair's campaign for these Harry Winston watches is that, er, lame? I
mean, he put it together himself and word is he’s pretty good at what he does.”

She shrugged. “Maybe he did, but I call things as I
see them and I don't pull punches for anyone. Even if he
is
the CEO of
Sinclair. And even if he
is
the genius everyone says he is, on this
particular occasion, he dropped the ball a bit. It happens to the best of us.

“However, while it's not my company, my job is my
priority and I want to see whatever company I work for do the absolute best it
can. I want to do my job to the best of my ability. If that steps on Mr.
Sinclair’s ego a little, so be it. After all, my career on the line as much as
it is the firm's reputation.

“And now that I've taken a personal interest in this
campaign, I intend to work my fingers to the bone to turn the campaign around. We
need to rectify the damage that’s been done with the Marlboro Man wannabe
persona. And you saw my presentation–there’s a
lot
of damage.”

“Maybe he was under a lot of stress when he came up
with this campaign.”

“Well, if he can't handle the pressure, he should make
way for someone who
can
,” she replied. “That would be what’s best for
the agency.”

“Oh, I don't think he has any problems handling the
pressure,” I replied. “It's just that he sometimes has a little too much on his
plate. He takes a very personal interest in everything the firm does.”

“Maybe he
shouldn't
,” she retorted. “Now, if
you'll excuse me, I've got a lot of work to do on this campaign.”

She picked up her briefcase and turned around to leave
the now empty boardroom. Before she could, I stepped between her and the
doorway.

“Before you go,” I said, my heartrate starting to
increase with a sudden and unexpected nervousness. “I’d like to speak with you
about something.”

She looked up at me with something mysterious
sparkling in her gorgeous eyes. “Oh yeah? And what might that be?”

“My name's not really Andrew. It’s Asher. Asher
Sinclair. And I must admit, Ms. Maxwell, you've impressed me. I want to hire
you as an aide to work in my office on high profile campaigns.”

CHAPTER 2

Lilah

As soon as he approached me, I knew something was up.
I'd noticed how intently he'd been watching me during my presentation from the
back of the room. He certainly hadn’t been present in any of the meetings I'd
been to before.

Granted, I'd only been working at The Sinclair Agency for
a couple of months and it was a sizeable agency; there were a lot of people I
hadn't yet met. There are some people you can’t miss, even in a crowd, and this
man was one of them. There’s no way I would have forgotten him had I seen him
before. I sure as hell wouldn’t have forgotten the charge of electricity
coursing through me from one simple moment of eye contact.

I felt like the presentation had gone really well. My supervisor
had been taking notes and nodding the entire time, shooting me impressed
glances and giving me the sense that I was on the right track. I'd also noticed
a lot of other people doing the same.

So when a handsome stranger approached, I was
expecting the questions about my presentation, which I duly answered. What I
wasn’t expecting was for the conversation to move to the subject of Asher
Sinclair. I'd heard and read a lot about the man, even did my homework on him
and his company before I submitted my application for a position with Sinclair.

From what I could gather, it sounded like he was a
proper old school-type mogul—a child prodigy, workaholic genius, someone along
the lines of a Steve Jobs who had taken what was already a great firm and, at
the green age of just twenty, had begun the transformation that had turned it
into one of the greatest PR powerhouses on the planet.

Naturally, I'd been more than a little intrigued by
the idea of Asher Sinclair, as most women would be, no doubt. Rumors were that,
even though he was secretive, kept an extremely low profile, and went to great
lengths to stay out of the spotlight, he was drop-dead gorgeous, suave, and
quite a hit with the ladies. Of course, in New York social circles, rumors
weren’t known for being accurate.

But rumors aside, the impeccable, deliciously classy
business suit the man who approached me wore should have given me at least a
semblance of a hint that he wasn't just another mid-level manager wanting to
pick up a few tips. And it would have, had I not been so caught up in the
post-presentation euphoria and been a little off balance.

It was that charge that had me off balance and a
little off my game. Normally, my mind would be quick to analyze and be calculating
about such details, but those piercing eyes had distracted me and I hadn't put
two and two together.

Instead, I'd gone off on a rant to “Andrew” about how poorly
I thought Asher Sinclair had handled the Harry Winston watch campaign. I really
laid things out, no holds barred.

So when I found out that “Andrew” was in fact Asher
Sinclair himself, mortified wasn't even close to how I felt. When he revealed
that
little secret, inside I wanted nothing more than to find a rock and climb under
it. When you find yourself basically insulting your CEO's intelligence and
talent
to his face,
well, a little sensation pops into your mind and
pretty much screams:

Your life is over. Your career is over.
You may as well pack up and move to the other side
of the country.

I won’t lie, it's close to the worst feeling you can imagine.
But it was mixed with another emotion.

Anger.

That's right. In addition to feeling horrified, I was
also absolutely
furious.
I mean, who does that? It's the epitome of
dishonesty to not only pretend to be someone else, but to use that disguise to
get people to reveal things they'd never reveal otherwise.

So, when he offered me a promotion after the tirade I
had just unleashed, I wasn’t quite sure I’d heard him right. I was still trying
to decide if I wanted to sink into the earth itself and be buried alive or knock
his handsome head off his shoulders.

Still, I kept my cool as best I could. I was in the
right and the opinions I'd expressed about the failure of the watch campaign
were completely valid. I had no intentions of backing down or apologizing for
my comments.

After introducing whom he really was, he had told me
how impressed he’d been by my presentation and offered me a promotion, but all
I'd heard was, “My name's not really Andrew. It’s Asher. Asher Sinclair.” Everything
after that had been an auditory blur as the world had come crashing down around
me.

I did my best to maintain my composure. “I’m sorry, Mr.
Sinclair, but what did you just ask me?”

He smiled, and I would have sworn there was something
more than mere professional courtesy in that smile. Still, Asher Sinclair’s
ulterior motives were the last thing I was thinking about. Instead, I tried to
simply focus on his words.

“I'd like to offer you a position on my personal staff,”
he repeated. “What you said and your vision for moving forward really impressed
me and-”

“I'm so sorry I insulted your campaign so bluntly,” I
heard myself sputter out. It was almost as if the words had a mind of their own.
I didn't remember my brain issuing any such command to say anything by way of
an apology I didn’t really mean.

He chuckled. “Your honesty and candor are
exactly
why
I want to offer you this position,” he countered. “You're absolutely right. I
did drop the ball on this one. Even the best of us make mistakes sometimes. I have
no issues owning up to my mistakes. I admit I made an error in judgment.

“Don't get too used to it, though. It doesn’t happen
too often. I didn't get where I am by sheer luck, Ms. Maxwell.

“But, something tells me you’re the type to do her
homework before taking a position with a company. I'm sure you're familiar
enough with my former campaigns that I don't need to point out my success rate.
Which means you also know that I'm not satisfied with what I've achieved thus
far.
I have higher ambitions. I don't just want The Sinclair Agency to
be the biggest PR firm in North America, I want it to be the biggest PR firm on
the planet. And, I feel like this is something that can be achieved, but only
if I've got the right people backing me up.

“For this, I need people like
you
on my team, Ms.
Maxwell—people who aren't afraid to tell me when I've dropped the ball, people
who have revolutionary visions, people who have, as you seem to, an innate
ability to understand what it is that sells a product. So, what do you say? Are
you ready for a promotion? Are you up to this challenge?”

 
I breathed in
deeply, trying to maintain control over the mad tornado of conflicting emotions
whirling around the inside of my head and the swarm of butterflies wreaking
havoc in my stomach.

“Well, Mr. Sinclair, I’d like to know more about what
the position entails. Could you give me a more detailed job description and
allow me some time to think about it?”

“Call me Asher, please.”

“All right…Asher. But my question still stands. Do I have
to make a decision right now, or would you permit me a little time to consider
your offer? With all due respect, it's a bit overwhelming, and I do enjoy the
job I have now. And while I do thrive under pressure, I’d still like to know
what I’d be giving up a position I enjoy for.”

He nodded. “That’s a fair enough request. I'm sure you
have a number of things you'll need to factor in when making the decision. I
can tell you now, it's not going to be easy. I'm a stickler for discipline and
hard work. But I'm also extremely generous when my people show me their worth.
Extremely
generous.”

I nodded. “I can appreciate that. I'm not afraid of
hard work, not in the least. In fact, the tougher the task, the more
enthusiastically I approach it.”

“I get the sense that you're a woman who enjoys taking
on a challenge. That you're not easily intimidated.”

“Your senses would be right about that.”

“Excellent. That means you're just the sort of person
I'm looking for on my team. I think you and I could go a long way together, Ms.
Maxwell. There could be a very bright future ahead of you—if you make the right
decision, of course. So, how about I give you a week to think about it. Does
that sound reasonable?”

“Absolutely. Can I give you my card?”

“Please do. Would you prefer a call or an email?”

“An email would be great. I'm all over the place with
meetings and I can't guarantee I'll be able to answer a call.”

“I know exactly what you mean. All right, I'll email
you later with a detailed job description and you can let me know in a week
what your decision is going to be—or sooner if the answer hits you in the
middle of the might, as many good ideas often do.” The crooked smile he beamed at
me caused a bit of warmth in places I didn’t want to acknowledge.

I returned the smile, though I doubted it had the same
effect on him. “Thank you, Mr. Sinc…Asher,” I responded. “I'll definitely have
an answer for you soon.”

“Great. I look forward to hearing from you. And now, I
must get going. I have a conference to fly to in Hong Kong. My limo is waiting
downstairs. You need a ride anywhere?”

“I don't, but thanks for the offer.”

“Anytime.” He turned to leave, but quickly spun back
around. “One more thing. If you’ve done your homework, you know I like my
privacy. Maybe anonymity is a better word for it. So, I’d appreciate you acting
as if you have no idea who I am outside of the top floor. That won’t be a
problem, will it?”

“Your secret is safe with me,” I chuckled with a
smile.

“Wonderful. We shall chat soon! Have a lovely day, Ms.
Maxwell.”

“Lilah,” I insisted.

He flashed that hotter-than-sin crooked smile again.
“Lilah,” he repeated and nodded. With that, he turned and walked out of the
room.

Once he had left, I almost collapsed. I flopped down
in the nearest chair, pulled my phone out, and dialed Edward, my oldest brother
and one of my closest friends.

“Hey, sis,” the familiar voice on the other end of the
line answered. “What's up?”

“That would be the question of the hour,” I replied. “The
craziest thing just happened and I have to talk to someone about it. You got
time for a drink after work?”

“Absolutely. Are you all right?”

“I'm fine, I'm fine. Nothing to worry about. Just a
little bit of insanity at work.”

“Cool. Meet you at McGinty's at eight?”

“Sounds perfect. I'll see you then.”

I ended the call, put my phone down, and let out a
long, protracted sigh. The day had certainly turned out to be quite a good deal
more interesting than I’d expected.

***

“Hey, Peanut! Great to see you,” Edward beamed as he
stood up from the bar table and gave me a hug.

“Hey, Eddie, thanks for coming out tonight,” I said as
we disengaged from the hug and sat down.

Even at ten years older than me, people still asked if
Eddie and I were twins. Apparently, we favored enough for it, but we were also
very close. Besides, even with the streaks of gray running through his full
head of hair and a few fine wrinkles around his eyes, which were appearing now
that he was almost forty, he didn’t remotely look his age.

Eddie had always looked out for me when I was growing
up. He’d done his best to keep my other three brothers off my back—when he had
been around, anyway. Eddie’s childhood was a little tougher than the rest of us
had to deal with.

Our mom had died soon after I was born and it seemed
like Dad worked all the time just to try to keep things together. My twin
brothers David and Robert had been three years old at the time Mom died, and my
other brother James had only been four and a half, so the trauma hadn't
affected the rest of us as much as it had Eddie, who had been ten years old. He
used to tell me about her. I think it helped him to remember as much as it
helped me feel like I knew her.

After he graduated from high school, he put off
college to play in a punk band and had sometimes disappeared for weeks or even
months at a time. But he always called me when he hadn’t been around; he'd
always been good to me, and there was an undeniably powerful bond between us. I
often felt like he was the only person I could really trust in this world.

“So, how's life in the corporate world?” he asked with
a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“Never a dull day,” I replied. “How's the music
business?”

He'd actually done pretty well with his band. Over the
years, they'd gone from sleeping on people's living room floors after gigs or
all crammed in a ratty van in a parking lot, to being signed to a respectable
label and touring internationally. It was a good thing, too; he never would
have been happy in the “real” world.

“Oh, not bad, not bad at all. Still trying to recoup
from jet lag after the Japan tour, but we're right back in the studio tomorrow
working on tracks for the new album. No rest for the wicked, as they say,” he
said with a chuckle.