Sleeping With My Boss: A Standalone Novel (An Alpha Billionaire Romance Love Story) (A Dirty Office Romance) (58 page)

"I'm not
gonna make it, Pow," he said. "I know that. Just tell my parents that
I did what I said I would do, will you?"

"Bullshit,
Opie," I protested as I pressed on the dressings and felt the blood oozing
through my fingers. "You're gonna make it out of here and be able to tell
them yourself. Hang on, kid."

Bravely he nodded,
and wheezed, "It was a hell of a run, wasn't it, Pow?"

"Best goddamn
run of our lives," I said as I heard the sound of incoming Blackhawks fill
the air. I realized that we must have taken out most of the guys who'd been
guarding the prisoners on our first assault. "Don't you die on me, Opie.
Dammit!"

"I'll try,
Pow," he said. "Hoo-yah..."

Badger and Rock
pushed their way into the room and said, "Copters are landing, Pow!"

"Get Opie on
a stretcher and on the first one out!" I yelled over the noise then turned
to the remaining soldiers and motioned for them to get up. Most did, and the
ones who were unable, we stretchered out. Badger and Rock ran to the front of
the compound and collected the prisoners we'd taken and loaded them on a third
copter.

As we lifted off,
I saw the compound from the air. Concrete, dirt, and bodies littered the
landscape, and I wondered how anyone but those of us who lived on this wild
ride could possibly understand what we did for a living.

CHAPTER
TWO

Echo

"
Alan
Powell's office, how may I
direct your call?" I said as I hit the send button on an email response to
a question about my boss's schedule and whether he'd be available to give a
talk about the role of biotech firms in the military industrial complex. Dr. Powell
hated giving talks, but he knew that it drummed up support for his pet projects
that were far less profitable, so he gave them grudgingly.

"Echo, can
you come down to Mr. Baines' office right away?" Ruth said in a tone
usually reserved for those who were being terminated.

"Um, sure.
What's wrong?" I asked as I felt my blood pressure skyrocket. I knew that
Dr. Powell had been working on some secret project because he'd asked me to
type up documents that he had me shred after sending. He assured me that there
was nothing illegal going on, and in the six years I'd been working for him
he'd never lied to me before, so I chose to believe him. Now I wondered if that
had been wise.

"Just get
down here as quickly as possible," she repeated. "You don't need to
bring your things."

I hung up the
phone and, out of habit, grabbed a steno pad and my phone before walking down
the long hallway to Mr. Baines' office.

Something wasn't
right; I could feel it as I walked down the corridor. The legal staff was
gathered in the glass-walled conference room and although I couldn't hear the
conversation, I could tell something wasn't right. When I got to Ruth's desk,
she waved me on through the open door, and then quietly shut it behind me.

"Miss Frost,
I've got some bad news," Mr. Baines began. He slowly gave me the once-over
stopping ever so briefly at my chest and then continuing down. Julian Baines
was a tall, thin man who had a habit of slicking his thick blond hair back in a
way that made him vaguely resemble an old time Mafioso. This morning, he was
dressed in a casual linen suit that made him look like he belonged on the Lido
Deck of cruise ship rather than in an executive office of one of the highest
grossing biotech firms in the country. I'd thought he was too slick, but Dr.
Powell had always treated him with the utmost respect, so I emulated him. This
sleazy kind of once-over shifted my perspective.
 
When he had finished, he gestured toward the
chair across from his desk and said, "Have a seat."

"I'm sorry,
Mr. Baines, I don't understand," I said as I tried to recall the last
document I'd sent and shredded.

"Miss Frost,
Alan Powell is dead," he said dropping the news swiftly.

"What do you
mean?" I said as I looked around the room wondering if this was some kind
of cruel joke. Alan Powell had hired me during my first year at NYU. I'd
arrived a wide-eyed Midwesterner from the plains of Illinois and gradually
become a savvy city-loving New Yorker. Dr. Powell had taken me under his wing,
and shown me the ropes. His style had been more military than paternal, and I'd
often found myself holding back tears when he'd chastise me for not knowing
something that, to him, seemed perfectly obvious. I couldn't say I loved the
man, but I did have absolute respect for him.

"I mean
exactly what I said," Baines said in a clipped voice. "Alan is
dead."

"How? What?
Why?" I said as my thoughts tumbled out of my brain. "I don't
understand. What happened?"

"The details
remain somewhat murky," he said as he picked up a sheet of paper on his
desk and scanned it. "It seems he might have been in the wrong place at
the wrong time."

"I'm sorry,
Mr. Baines," I said wrapping my arms around my body as a sudden chill ran
up my spine. "I just don't understand. Dr. Powell was at a meeting this
morning. He had a meeting with Ranger executives. It was on his schedule."

"Miss Frost,
I recognize that this comes a shock," Baines said narrowing his eyes.
"But please do try to get ahold of yourself. We're all broken up about the
news, but this is a workplace, not a counseling center. When I have more
details, I will inform you, but until then, please continue working as
usual."

"I...I...yes,
sir," I nodded as I stood up and turned to go.

"Oh, and Miss
Frost?" he called as I walked to the door.

"Yes?"

"Please keep
this news to yourself for now," he warned. "I'm sure you understand
the delicate nature of this particular issue. The last thing we need is to
activate the rumor mill and send it spinning out into the business world."

"Yes,
sir," I nodded before turning to open the door. I could feel his eyes on
me as I quickly exited the room.

"Are you
okay, Echo?" Ruth asked. Her look of concern brought me close to breaking
down, but I swallowed hard and simply nodded before turning away. I had a
thousand questions, and for the first time since I'd begun working at TriCorp I
had no one to answer them. I choked back a sob and headed to the ladies room
where I locked myself in a stall and shed silent tears.

Everything in the
office looked the same, but the entire world had shifted underneath me. Alan
Powell had been the owner and CEO of TriCorp since its inception. He'd built a
small medical research facility into one of the most profitable biomedical
firms in the world, and he'd done it with military precision and a dedication
to the greater good.

When he'd hired
me, I'd been in a desperate situation. My tuition had exceeded the amount of
scholarship money I'd been awarded and without co-signers, I couldn't take out
any loans, and I was faced with a choice of giving up or finding a way to earn
enough money to make up the difference. I knew there was no way I could go back
to Peoria and the small life that would await me there, so I began making the
rounds at the temp agencies and religiously reading the help wanted ads. I
considered everything, even escorting, but the newspaper horror stories about
women mutilated and murdered while doing it resonated in my brain and I quickly
discarded the notion.

I'd interviewed
with Ruth two days after Dr. Powell's long-time assistant had retired. The
woman had run his office with an iron fist, and when Ruth had called to tell me
that Dr. Powell had hired me, my first question was, "Why?"

"He feels you
have a great deal of potential, Miss Frost," she'd replied and then begun
telling me when and where I was to report to in order to get my ID badge and
fill out my paperwork. I listened and jotted down notes as she spoke, and
remained in a daze for most of the rest of the day.

The next morning,
I reported to the security office in the basement of the TriCorp building on 7
th
 
and 23
rd
 
where the head of security, Butch Wilson, took
my picture and issued me a badge before giving me a tour of the building.

"What about
floors seventeen through twenty-three?" I asked as we headed to the
executive offices on the sixteenth floor.

"Don't bother
yourself with those, Miss Frost," Butch said. "Those others are
research floors and your badge won't allow you access to them."

"Oh,
okay," I said trying to hide my disappointment.

"Don't feel
bad, kiddo," Butch chuckled. "Very few people are allowed access to
those floors. Only Dr. Powell and the research scientists are allowed up
there."

"I see, well,
then I guess I'll just have to confine myself to the other sixteen floors,
won't I?" I smiled.

Butch nodded as
the elevator doors slid open. We walked to a door at the end of the hall where
Butch inserted a key and swung the door open. Inside was an enormous open space
that was double the size of the tiny little apartment I rented over on 13
th
 
and Broadway. There was an enormous beech wood
desk positioned in the middle of the room with a sleek silver computer monitor
set off to the side and a modern looking phone set up next to it.

"Mine?"
I asked as I shot Butch a questioning look.

"Yep, you're
Dr. Powell's new assistant, so I imagine this is your realm," he laughed.
He handed me the ring of keys and explained, "The red one is for the front
door, the blue on is for Dr. Powell's office and the yellow one is for the
supply room, the storage room and the copier room. I imagine that Ruth will be
down shortly to get you acclimated and trained in your duties. She's good that
way."

"Thank you,
Mr. Wilson," I said as I looked down at the keys and wondered where the
yellow rooms were.

"Call me
Butch, kiddo. Everyone calls me Butch," he smiled as he dipped his chin
and headed back to his post.

Butch had been
right, and in no time, Ruth had shown up and given me a tour of the offices.
She explained how Dr. Powell liked things ordered and organized, never ever
sloppy. I was to make sure that his schedule was always up to date and that he
had a copy of the daily agenda every morning by eight. She taught me how to
answer the complex phone system that looked like it had come straight out of a
futuristic film and she gave me a list of the company hierarchy so that I would
know exactly who reported to whom and who was allowed access to Dr. Powell.

Ruth explained
that she would be stationed down the hall in Mr. Baines' office if I needed
anything or had any questions, and she assured me that I would do just fine. As
soon as she'd left, I walked around the desk, pulled out the black leather
chair tucked under the edge and sat down. I felt like a new phase of my life
was beginning, and while I wasn't sure where it would lead me, I knew that it
was the start of something good.

It was this
feeling I remembered as I sat on the cold tile floor with my back pressed
against the wall and hot tears streaming down my cheeks. The newness of the job
and the feeling that everything was possible had only been reaffirmed when Dr.
Powell entered the office and walked to my desk. There was something about him
that caused me to shoot up out of my chair and stand at attention.

"At ease,
soldier," he said as a smile played at the corners of his lips. "Miss
Echo Frost is it?"

"Yes,
sir," I said successfully resisting the urge to salute him. I'd grown up
in a military household, so the action had become like second nature for my
sisters and me, but out in the civilian world, saluting was viewed as mocking,
so I had developed the ability to suppress my urge. Dr. Powell's demeanor felt
vaguely familiar, though.

"Alan
Powell," he said holding out his hand and gripping mine firmly as he shook
it then let go. "Welcome to TriCorp, Miss Frost."

"Thank you,
sir," I nodded solemnly as I shook his hand and then dropped my arm back
to my side. "I'm please to join your team."

"Miss Frost,
do you have a clear understanding of your duties? Has Ms. Reasoner explained
them to you?" he asked.

"I believe
so, sir," I said.

"Good, then
you will remember that my mail is to be opened and neatly stacked on my desk
before I come in every morning," he said as he scooped up the pile of
papers I'd been working on and carried them into his office. "Tomorrow
morning you'll get this right, Miss Frost."

"Yes,
sir," I said as my heart beat wildly in my chest. I wasn't two hours into
my new job and already I'd screwed up. For the rest of the morning, I focused
on learning my job and creating a workflow chart that would ensure that the
only mistakes I'd make would be due to things that were entirely out of my control.

At the end of my
first day, I smiled after I'd answered the phone with the proper greeting,
successful forwarded the call to its proper recipient and then took one more
look at my chart before printing it out and taping it to the inside of the top
drawer of my desk. Tomorrow I would get it right.

Then next morning,
when I opened the drawer, I found that Dr. Powell had gone in and circled the
spelling errors on the sheet, awarded me a grade of B+ and written "Good
work. Let's try this again, shall we?" and signed it A. Powell. Rather
than allow myself to be gripped with anxiety, I laughed out loud, pulled up the
chart, fixed the mistakes and printed it out again before turning to the mail.

By the time Dr.
Powell arrived, I had not only sorted the mail and put it in neat piles on his
desk, I'd updated and printed his daily schedule and had a cup of hot coffee
waiting for him as he walked through the door. He said good morning, took the
cup from me and walked into his office. I didn't hear from him again until he
headed out for his lunch appointment at Gramercy Park.

When he returned,
he handed me a stack of papers and said, "Please type these up, Miss
Frost," before he headed back into his office. When I sat down at my desk
and began transcribing them, I realized that these were the notes for a meeting
with a government official regarding the development of a new drug. The notes
were somewhat cryptic, but I didn't try to understand them only transcribe them
as they were written. When I was done, I printed them off, put both versions in
a file folder and took the in to Dr. Powell.