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Billionaire Boss – A Secret Baby Romance
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:
My hot boss is no longer just my hot fantasy.
I’ve made a mistake.
Or maybe… he doesn’t.
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The building was even more imposing than I remembered from my days as an intern. Somehow it hadn’t seemed so gleaming and intimidating then. I guess because I was still in school at the time. It had seemed like a game, like playing at having a corporate job. My livelihood hadn’t depended on it. I had student loans and a work-study job for that. Now it was me and my degree, all alone against the accruing interest on my loan payments.
I wore a black pantsuit from the mall and a pair of slightly used designer boots off eBay, and I was ready for day one at my new job in HR at Astley Corp. I shook my hair, tried to pretend I had a Kate Middleton style blowout instead of just the best my flat iron could do at home.
At the reception desk I got my picture taken for my ID badge so I could access the upper floors. Security searched my bag, and I went through the metal detector. Once I had an elevator key fob, I went up to the thirty-sixth floor where Kim greeted me.
She had been my mentor when I interned, so having her for a supervisor was like a dream. I already knew and trusted her, and I was thrilled that she had enough faith in me to hire me as part of her team. I wanted to impress her and prove myself. I stuck out my hand to shake hers, but she greeted me with a hug.
“Welcome back, Cat. I’m glad you’ve come on board.”
“I loved it here when I interned. I didn’t think you’d have room in HR for me with the staff you already had.”
“Ben had to be let go. And you were my first choice to replace him. Now let’s get you settled, and I’ll introduce you to the major players. You’ll even meet Holly, the new intern,” she said.
Too bad for Ben, I thought to myself as I followed behind Kim. I put my stuff down at the desk she gave me and said hi to everyone. I knew them all except Holly, who seemed tentative and nervous—I wondered if I had been that way at first, too. I made a mental note to be extra patient with her.
The floor HR occupied was all black and chrome, sleek and shining as the building itself, but decorated with motivational posters meant to boost office morale. Kim took me over to the finance department and then up to legal and introduced me to the supervisors and a few people our department worked closely with. Everyone was friendly and welcoming. Then she took me up to the executive suite—the top two floors reserved for the ruling class, the chiefs with their assistants and the head legal counsel, as well as office space for the board of directors when they needed it.
The executive floors were warmer and fancier in décor. The tile floors were replaced with a plush carpet woven in a pattern that looked Turkish. Our footsteps were muted by the plush pile. Everything that was shiny on the main floors was a burnished gleam here—with deep wood paneling and tasteful, yet expensive wallpaper figured in navy blue and gold. It made me think of French kings, of monarchs and rulers, and of a hushed reverence of a palace. I met Marie, the CFO, whose credentials had impressed me and whose demeanor was all business.
The Chief Operating Officer was on a call, but I met his assistant, a very handsome blond man named Chris, who promptly showed me pictures of his husband and their dogs. I liked him instantly and hoped we could have lunch sometime.
I was nervous about meeting the CEO himself because everyone knew that Brent Waltham was a self-made man, brilliant and hard-working. I had saved the copy of Forbes with him on the cover. He looked like a stern, sexier George Clooney. I’d be lying if I said all I’d done was read the articles. In pictures I’d seen him in, he was portrayed as a business role model who was both mouth-wateringly sexy and intimidating. I would be so mad at Photoshop if he turned out to be five feet tall and an absolute troll. As it was, I could conjure up the image of that Forbes cover, his face partly in shadow, a serious, pensive expression on his chiseled features, the smirk of his full lips enough to make me melt inside. I swallowed hard just thinking of that picture.
I will not make a fool of myself over the boss.
I will not get nervous and babble. I am qualified and capable with every right to be here.
I will not stand here and cream my panties overseeing his brass nameplate.
A framed huge picture of the board of directors with Brent Waltham hung on the wall. With his stern, square jaw, piercing dark eyes, and fuck-me mouth. What would I say when I met him? Hi, I’m Cat Sherman, the new HR assistant. Please say my name nice and slow, so I can remember it when I fantasize at night about this later.