Sleeping With My Boss: A Standalone Novel (An Alpha Billionaire Romance Love Story) (A Dirty Office Romance) (7 page)

“A what? Someone like me? A financial mogul? A
billionaire? Or let me guess, a playboy billionaire? I mean, that is the rumor,
isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she replied, with a subtle blush coloring her
cheeks.

“Well,” I said with a conspiratorial smile, “you might
want to learn to expect the unexpected from me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she offered, smiling softly.
“So how did it all end up then?”

“Well, I’m here now, so I found my focus. I found my
way. I bolstered my discipline and became, in mind and body, a warrior. Colonel
Tanaka truly did repay his debt to my grandfather in full. He saved my life,
without a doubt.”

“Saved your life? How so?”

“Before I went, I felt like I was spiraling out of
control. The stress was getting to me. I wasn’t handling it well.

“After I returned, I found that the company had been
in decline, despite the best efforts of my grandfather's trusted friend and
former advisor. However, with my newfound sense of drive and purpose, instead
of throwing in the towel, I was able to not only turn things around, but turn
The Sinclair Agency into what it is today. In the years after I returned from
Japan, I found the intensity of focus and purpose I needed to take us to the
top and beyond. And in my personal life, as well, I found more peace than I'd
ever known before.”

I couldn’t believe I had just told Lilah so much about
myself. Only my parents and a couple of very close friends knew about my time
in Japan. Of course, I didn’t share everything with her that was flooding my
mind. I wanted to add that an unfulfilled longing still remained even after I’d
returned from training with Colonel Tanaka. I'd done everything on my own up to
that point and even after I’d returned, and I’d been quite happy doing things
by myself.

Or, so I'd thought.

In recent years, I'd begun to feel as if the close
companionship I'd always told myself was an unnecessary burden
wasn’t
actually so unnecessary. Perhaps being alone, being entirely independent,
wasn't such a great thing. Perhaps surrendering myself to another wasn't a
weakness. Perhaps, in some ways, it required a strength and a depth of courage
I'd never before been able to access.

But, again, I didn't say those things to Lilah—I
couldn't, not just yet.

“Do you have any interesting souvenirs from your time
there?” she asked.

“As a matter of fact, I do. I have a few suits of
samurai armor and a number of weapons that I keep on display at my place. I've
also had a Japanese garden, much like this one, constructed on the grounds near
my home. I like to walk there when I can, and when I have time, I'm learning to
do sand art in the way the old man over there is doing. But, by far, my most
prized memento of my time spent with Colonel Tanaka is a sword.”

“A samurai sword?” she asked with a glint of curiosity.

“Indeed. It had been in Colonel Tanaka's family for
generations, and had been forged by a blade master three hundred years ago, the
steel folded and hammered a thousand times. According to Colonel Tanaka, the
edge is still as razor sharp as it was three centuries ago; it's a true work of
art. He gave it to me as a parting gift.”

“I'd love to see it sometime.”

Her statement took me by surprise. The last thing I
was expecting was for her to suggest spending more time with me in any manner.
Much less in a setting as private as my home. But I wasn’t about to turn down
the chance to spend time with her.

“You should. I have a lot of fascinating pieces and
artifacts. I am definitely something of a collector.”

“And I happen to have a great interest in history,” she
remarked, but then, all of a sudden, a cold look entered her eyes; it seemed as
if she regretted what she had just said for some reason. “Look at the time,”
she noted as she pulled out her phone and checked it. “Our extended lunch break
is almost up. We'd better be getting back.”

“Yeah,” I said, somewhat wistfully. “I guess we
should.”

We walked back to the office in relative silence, but
I couldn't stop stealing glances at Lilah.

I also couldn't stop wondering what was going on in
that beautiful head of hers.

CHAPTER 8

Lilah

“Come on, Lilah, you can do this, you can do this,” I
repeated as I paced in front of my desk.

As if Monday mornings weren’t dreaded enough, try
adding a presentation to the docket that could make or break your career with a
company. I was scheduled to give my presentation on my proposed revamp to the
Harry Winston campaign in less than thirty minutes and there was a lot riding
on it. With every breath, it felt as if thousands of butterflies were swarming
around inside of my stomach. I inhaled deeply and made my way to my private
bathroom.

“You’ve got this, Lilah. Your ideas are good and they
are going to work, they will—you just have to present them in a way that
enables the senior team—and, of course, Asher himself—to see this,” I said to
myself as I applied a few final touches to my makeup in the bathroom mirror.

My cellphone alarm sounded, vibrating on my desk,
signaling that it was time to make my way to the boardroom for the meeting to
start. I drew in a deep, calming breath, held it in my lungs for a while, and
then exhaled slowly.

“You’re ready. You can do this,” I encouraged myself
one last time as I stared into the mirror.

I strode out of the bathroom, exuding as much
confidence as I could muster. While I may have felt nervous inside, it would
not do to show it on the outside.

Calm, collected, confident. This was the image I
needed to pull off at the moment. I picked up the folders I needed from my desk
and headed into the hallway.

I strode into the conference room with a sense of
purpose and an invisible strength as I held my head high and kept my posture
ramrod straight. I went straight to my spot at the table, arranged my files
neatly in front of me, and took a seat while those around the table carried on
conversations.

Moments later, Asher entered the room and the buzzing
of banter that had been bouncing around the table fell silent. A sudden rush,
an undeniable attraction to the sheer power he exuded, washed over me. It
wasn't merely his strong physical presence or his rugged, strong-jawed good
looks—it was the fact that this man, at the young age of thirty-two, was able
to silence a room of men and women who were, in some cases, twice his age, by
merely entering the room. And there was no resentment or jealousy simmering in
that silence; there was only a deep, reverent respect for an immensely
intelligent, talented, and driven individual who led from the front of the
battle lines. To put it in simple terms, it was hot.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced, “thank you all
for being here. I'm not going to waste any time beating around the bush. We
have important matters to attend to and first and foremost among those is the
Harry Winston campaign. Now, the newest addition to our team, Ms. Lilah
Maxwell, has prepared a presentation on how she believes we can turn this
currently unsuccessful campaign around.”

He looked straight at me. “Lilah, are you ready?”

I nodded and stood up. “I am, Mr. Sinclair. Thank
you.”

“Excellent. Well, ladies and gents, without further
ado, I give the meeting over to Ms. Maxwell.”

There was a polite round of applause as I stepped
around to the front of the table in a position at the head of the room.

“Thank you, everyone,” I said. “Before I begin, I'd
like to thank Mr. Sinclair for giving me the opportunity to join this
prestigious team. It is my hope that with the ideas contained in this campaign
proposal that Mr. Sinclair's decision to appoint me to this position on the
team will be validated.”

I picked up the remote control and dimmed the lights
in the room before I fired up the projector. I glanced around at each person at
the table. When I came to Asher, our eyes met and he gave me a warm, approving
nod. With me heart in my throat, I began my presentation.

It felt as if it had taken barely no time, but half an
hour had passed when I brought up the final image and delivered my last line. I
stopped speaking, and for a few tense moments a heavy, almost tangible silence
filled the room.

And then it happened.

One of the senior members of the team—a woman in her
late forties—started to applaud. Soon everyone else followed suit. I looked
across at Asher, and he too was applauding with a smile of approval. A heady
rush of adrenalin mixed with pride and satisfaction was rippling through my
veins. The competitor in me wanted to jump up and down like I’d just scored the
winning touchdown in a playoff game. It was all I could do to hold myself back
from doing just that.

Instead, I calmly closed my presentation on the
projector, turned the lights up again, said a quiet thank you, and went back to
my seat where I turned on my tablet so that I could take notes from the next
speaker's presentation.

Inside, however, I felt as if fireworks were
exploding. I couldn't believe I had pulled it off so flawlessly; everything,
and I mean
everything
, had gone exactly according to plan. It felt
surreal, almost dream-like, and I knew that I had to celebrate after work, even
if it was a Monday.

After the meeting was over, and everyone was gathering
their things together and leaving the room, Asher approached me.

“Your presentation was absolutely outstanding,” he
said. “Seriously. I think you blew everyone in the room away with that. You've
gone above and way beyond what anyone expected of you. I have no doubt that these
amazing ideas you have are going to turn the Harry Winston campaign entirely on
its head.”

I was ablaze with pride and excitement at his praise,
which I sensed was absolutely genuine—even though it felt as if there was
something beyond mere professional respect in the way Asher was looking at me
when he said it.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Si—, I mean, Asher.”

“I'm just telling the truth. I genuinely believe the
ideas you presented today are some of the freshest ideas we've seen at Sinclair
for, well, for years, to be honest. As a matter of fact, you kind of remind me
of myself in my younger years.”

I laughed. “Thanks, Asher. But there's no need for you
to talk like you're an old man or something; you're only thirty-two, you know.”

He chuckled. “Sometimes I feel twice that age, though.
Remember, I've been doing this since I was twenty. There are times I feel like
I missed out on my twenties completely, started my thirties right out of
college, and am now living in my forties!”

“Come on now, you’re much too good looking to be in
your forties,” I countered playfully.

“I’ll take your word for it,” he replied with a grin.
“Look, I know it's a Monday, but how would you feel about a drink or two after
work to celebrate the success of your presentation? And, by that, I don't mean
we're going to hammer away two bottles of wine again! Just a drink or two,
seriously.”

“You must have been reading my mind,” I exclaimed. “Is
that a trick that samurai master taught you?”

He grinned. “Wouldn't you like to know?”

“As a matter of fact, I would,” I laughed again,
feeling very at ease in his company. “Jokes aside though, how would you feel
about a little extra company at this celebration? My brother Eddie told me if
my presentation went well today he wanted to buy me a drink. I mean, he was
kind of an idol of yours when you were a young lad, wasn't he?” I cocked an
eyebrow and gave him a half smirk.

Asher grinned. “The lead guitarist of The Razor's
Edge? Seriously? How could I
not
want to have a beer with him?”

I almost said,
“I've
told him all about you already,”
but I managed to bite my tongue.

“Great,” I replied. “How does eight o'clock at
McGinty's Pub downtown sound?”

“That sounds perfect. I'll see you there. Until then,
more work to get through. There are still four working hours left in the day
and we have to try to get as much done as possible in that time, right?”

“Right. I'll see you later this evening.”

***

“Remember, Eddie, don't tell him I've talked to you
about him before all right?”

Eddie grinned. “Don't worry, sis, I've got this.”

I saw Asher enter the bar as I looked over Eddie’s
shoulder. “Here he is now! Act normal!”

“Uh, I am, Peanut.
You
on the other hand…”

“Shh! Don’t call me that.”

Asher approached our table with a smile. He was
wearing jeans and a button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
It was the first time I'd seen him not wearing a business suit, and he almost
looked like a different person—although the sense of effortless style was
undeniably his.

Eddie stood to greet him, offering him a hand, which
Asher shook firmly.

“Edward Maxwell,” Eddie said. “But my friends call me
Eddie.”

“Asher Sinclair,” said Asher. “My friends call me Ash.
Pleased to meet you! I hope I don't sound too dorky when I say this, but I'm a
huge fan of your music.”

Eddie grinned.

“Thanks, man! Never thought I'd have a CEO of a Fortune
100 company saying that to me!”

Asher laughed. “I was a teenager once,” he said with a
smile, “and I still have a soft spot for punk—although I don't know if that's
what I'd call your latest offerings.”

“Yeah, we've been playing around a lot with folk
chords and melodies in recent years. Going for a more mature sound, I guess you
could say.”

“And, I think I speak for both myself and other fans
when I say, we really appreciate it,” commented Asher. “It shows a depth of
musical understanding and how you guys have evolved as a band over the years. I
mean, the latest album has such a great, organic feel-”

I stood which interrupted them. As nice as it was to
see them hit it off so quickly, I didn't want to sit around all night listening
to them jabbering on and on about music.

“Guys, I hate to interrupt, but how about we get a few
beers, huh?”

Asher smiled. “Of course. We are here to celebrate the
successful presentation you gave earlier, so let's get on with it. First round
is on me. What are you two having?”

“Guinness for me; thanks, man,” replied Eddie.

“Make that two,” I said.

“Ah, Guinness drinkers, huh? Is there Irish blood in
your family?” asked Asher.

“A fair bit of it!” Eddie replied with a laugh.

Asher went off to the bar to get the drinks, and I
leaned over to Eddie.

“So? What do you think of him?”

“He seems like a good dude,” he remarked, “as far as
first impressions go anyway. It's still hard to believe that a suit like him is
a big fan of
my
band.”

“Come on, Eddie. He's not your average suit, you
know.”

“I know, I know. You know what I mean, though—corporate
types aren't exactly what make up the majority of the punk rock fan base.
Still, seems like a nice guy so far.”

Asher returned carrying three pints of Guinness, so
Eddie and I paused our conversation.

“Thanks,” Eddie said as he took a beer from Asher.
“I'll get the next round.”

Asher sat down and raised his pint.

“Here's to Lilah,” he said, “and her amazing
presentation today, which I firmly believe is not only going to salvage my
firm's reputation with the Harry Winston Company, but will also make us a very
decent profit in the process.”

“To Lilah,” Eddie repeated as he clinked his glass
against Asher's.

“Aw, thanks, guys,” I replied as clinked my glass
against each man's. “I appreciate that. Now, let's drink to a year of success
ahead for all of us!”

“I'll drink to that!” exclaimed Eddie, and we all
laughed and raised our glasses together.

After two more pints, I was starting to feel a little
buzzed, so I decided to call it quits for the evening. Conversation had been
flowing smoothly all night, especially between Asher and myself—a little too
smoothly. Add in the heated eye contact that lasted a little longer than it should
have each time, and I was determined not to allow a repeat of the poor decision
I’d made with him the last time we’d been together in a public setting outside
of work.

As attractive as I found him, I didn't want a repeat
of the last experience—especially not with my boss. I was on top of my game at
work, and I didn't want to be put in a position where that could be
compromised. I couldn't afford to let emotions get in the way of my career
success—not at this stage of the game.

“All right, guys, I think it's about time that I call
it a night,” I announced.

“Are you sure?” Eddie asked with a grin. “Hell, I was
just getting started!”

“I'm sure you were, Edward,” I replied with a smile.
“Some of us have normal jobs that start at eight in the morning as opposed to
two in the afternoon.”

“You squares and your routines,” he chuckled with a
wink. “All right, all right.”