Stolen (Book One) (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) (9 page)

“Do tell,” Orlando said.

“Well, I was supposed to interview for a temp position—“

“And you’re upset that you were hired for something permanent?” he said, his eyes crinkling in amusement at the notion.

“Not upset, just confused.”

“Let me allay your concerns,” he replied. “You needed a job, I thought you seemed a nice person. I decided to go with my gut and hire you on in a position I’ve been intending to fill.”

“We hardly spoke,” Sigourney told him.

He gave an unconcerned shrug. “I read people very well,” he said.

“You must have ESP if you can read someone that fast.”

His warm expression grew cooler, his features hardening subtly. “Most people would be overjoyed to have enjoyed such luck,” he told her. “But you seem intent on finding an issue with it.”

She’d been rebuked and knew it. “No, of course I’m thankful. I’m just—“

“Confused?” she said, his dark eyes seeming to sparkle mischievously.

“Well…yes.”

“All will be clear in due time,” he said, rising from his seat and pacing. “There will be quite a lot to learn, and my expectations are very high,” he continued.

“In the offer letter, it said something about use of a car and company assigned lodging?”

Orlando stopped and turned to her. “Of course you’ll have use of the company car for occasions when I require something from you where that mode of transportation makes sense. You won’t need to drive. We have a driver who can take you wherever you need to go,” he explained.

She nodded, feeling a sense of excitement at the prospect of being spirited around in a fancy car with a driver who would go wherever she needed. It sounded…romantic.

“That makes sense,” she said softly.

“And room and board is self-explanatory. You’ll have quarters provided to you by Parker Capital, since your job requires you to be available to me at all hours of the day. You’re essentially on call 24/7, it’s the nature of being an executive assistant. If I need you, I expect you to be there,
day or night
.”

Something about the way he talked about needing her day or night sent a new round of chills up and down her spine.

She shivered visibly.

Her nipples hardened, her cheeks flamed red. To compensate, she went on the offensive. “I already have an apartment and I’m committed to that,” she said, even though the truth was that Hannah was the only one who’d signed the lease.

Orlando Parker looked down at her evenly as if he really could read her thoughts and knew her half-truths. “That can be taken care of,” he said.

“I can’t just rearrange my entire life at a moment’s notice,” she said.

“You can,” he disagreed amicably. “You signed the offer letter.”

“Yes, but—where exactly will I live?”

“In quarters adjacent to my own,” he told her, his dark eyes fixed on hers now.

He didn’t need ESP to see the blush spreading across her cheeks more deeply, the flush of heat that moved up her chest and neck. Her lower belly tightened, and below that still, she felt an intense contraction, and an embarrassing slickness.

She re-crossed her legs, pulled her skirt instinctively to cover more of her thigh.

Mercifully, the CEO moved toward the wet bar and made himself a drink. He poured seltzer water, some ice, and then dropped a slice of lime into the glass. “Would you like one?” he asked her.

She shook her head. “I have water,” she said thickly, taking a long swig.

Her mind was racing now.

Quarters adjacent to his own?

Her suspicions crystalized, finally. “Do you mean that I’ll be living in the same house as you?” she asked.

He nodded. “That’s correct. But you’ll have your own quarters. It’s a very big home, you’ll have more privacy than you do now.”

“You don’t know how much privacy I have now.”

He smiled tightly. “It can’t be more than you’ll have with me,” he said. He held the glass loosely in one hand and then walked back to the chair across from hers and sat down again.

“This seems very…unusual,” she finished. “We just met. You never gave me an official interview, and now I’m supposed to move in with you?”

Orlando set the glass down on a coaster. His legs were spread wide as he leaned forward and locked eyes with her. His gaze shot through her like a bolt of white-hot electricity. “Miss Beckett, you’ll find me to be a very patient man. But I’m not in the habit of justifying my decisions to anyone. And especially not to an assistant who has yet to work a full day at the job.”

His voice sent her stomach plummeting and she realized that she was on the verge of blowing what might be a very big opportunity for her. She’d been granted a chance to join the big leagues—the equivalent of winning the lottery.

And now she was in the process of tearing up her ticket.

“I’m—I’m sorry if I offended you,” she said, feeling her eyes grow slightly misty. She swallowed, trying to hold back the emotion in her voice.

“I’m not offended,” Orlando said, sitting back now. “I’m trying to make myself very clear. You seem to be under the impression that you’re the one interviewing me for this position.”

“Not at all, I just—“

“You just overstepped your bounds.” He picked up the glass and took a light sip. His lips, she noticed, were bright red and sensual.

“I’m only trying to understand…” her voice trailed off.

He was glaring at her. “What is there to understand?” he said. “I’m a very, very busy man. I run a very large company and the pressures are immense. I require an assistant who is available at all times to help me with anything I need. Anything.”

She felt like a deer in the headlights.

And more than that, she felt a need pulling from the very center of her, the very core of her being. It was a need that she understood to be deeply sexual, primal.

She wanted Orlando Parker to fuck her.

She’d never been fucked, but she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she wanted to be fucked by this man. Her pulse quickened and her body flushed with heat. Between her legs it was moist and contracted with musky desire.

Worst of all, though, was how much he frightened her. She couldn’t say why, exactly. All she knew was that this man made her head spin, made her feel flustered and silly and dumb.

“I’m not sure if I can do this,” she whispered out of numb lips.

“Say again?” he said, his eyebrows lifting.

Her voice rose. “I said I’m not sure if I can do this—can be your assistant, Mr. Parker.”

He tilted his head. “Why is that?”

“I…I’m just…not cut out for this.” She stood up, her heart racing and her breath coming in short gasps. “I have to go.”

He stood as well. “Miss Beckett,” he said, moving a step towards her.

“Stay away from me,” she nearly shrieked. Her throat worked, as her hands splayed out in front of her, like she was warding off a vampire.

She felt like she might vomit.

Orlando Parker watched her with intent, predatory eyes. “Running away only delays the inevitable,” he said to her, his voice strangely soft.

“I have to go!” she cried out, and then she turned and ran from his office, out past the stunned receptionist, mashing the button of the elevator until the doors sprang open. She ran inside, feeling like her heart my burst. She clutched her purse, tears streaming down her cheeks.

She banged her fist against her own leg, wanting to scream and shout and die of embarrassment all at once.

When the doors opened on the first floor, she immediately leapt out of the elevator, took her ID badge and threw it on the front desk as she ran out of the building.

***

T
he apartment
she shared with Hannah felt dingy, and smaller than ever before, especially after spending time in the ornate and luxurious Parker Capital building.

It was dark, cramped and full of old furniture and some boxes still unpacked from the move.

She got home, stripped off her clothes and jumped in the shower, trying to scrub away the shame and madness of the day.

What had she done? What had she been thinking moving to New York in the first place?

Well, whatever she’d been thinking, it was certainly over now. Finished.

She’d been handed a wonderful job on a silver platter and she’d quite simply cracked under the pressure.

The tears mixed with the hot water from the showerhead, blending it all together.

After her shower, she changed into sweats and a t-shirt, then sat down at the small rickety table in her tiny kitchenette and ate a bowl of Greek yogurt with Splenda and blueberries.

Halfway through her yogurt, she picked up the phone and called home.

Nobody answered, and it went to voicemail. “Hey guys, it’s me,” she said. “I—I just wanted to call and talk. Ummm….I have something I want to discuss. Okay. Call me when you can. Love you, bye.”

She didn’t want to tell them she needed to come home over a voicemail, but she wanted to at least prepare them for what was coming.

Her family would welcome her back with open arms, she knew that. But still. Wouldn’t they be surprised and a bit disappointed that she couldn’t even last two weeks in the Big Apple?

She finished her yogurt and washed the bowl, along with some of the other dishes from the morning and the previous night.

Hannah wasn’t a very clean person, so that left the bulk of the household duties on Sigourney’s shoulders.

It was the kind of thing that might have become a problem, but wouldn’t now that she was going to leave.

Hannah got home about an hour later from her job at the literary agency where she worked as a junior agent. It was a job that didn’t pay well enough, and the agency was a small boutique place, but the position was still coveted and came with plenty of freedom.

When she got in, Hannah acted as if she immediately knew something was wrong. Her red hair was practically orange, and it was frizzy and hung in waves over her slim shoulders. “What happened?” she said, clomping inside in her heavy shoes and slamming the door shut and locking it.

Sigourney was just finishing tidying the living room. She had a cloth in one hand and a spray bottle in the other. “Nothing,” she replied, reflexively.

“Nothing? You look shell-shocked.”

“I had a very bad day,” she admitted.

“Come here, let me give you a hug, silly.” Hannah held her arms out wide.

“I don’t want a hug.”

“Come here and let me hug you. Don’t be a brat.”

Sigourney did as told, and got a big warm hug from her friend. Hannah smelled like fresh Juicy Fruit gum and vanilla. Her face was rounded, with freckles sprinkled liberally across her nose and cheeks. Her green eyes were vibrant and tended to dart about in her sockets when she spoke, which was almost incessantly.

“Look, we need to talk,” Sigourney told her, putting the spray bottle down. “I…”

“Don’t you dare tell me you’re moving out!” Hannah cried. “Don’t say it. Just don’t.”

“I think I’m going home,” she replied.

Hannah’s already big eyes widened further. She dropped her large bag on the floor. It contained her laptop and lots of books and manuscripts that marked up with red pen. “You are not going home already. We only just got here!”

“I know,” Sigourney said.

“You haven’t given it a chance. Whatever happened today, it couldn’t have been that bad, Siggy.”

“Don’t call me Siggy right now.”

“You’re moving out and I can’t even call you Siggy? Well how about ‘Traitor?’”

Sigourney glared at her. “Don’t be mean, Hannah.”

“I’m trying to be nice, but you’re being ridiculous. I know New York can be a rough place. That’s the fun, that’s the challenge…”

“For you, maybe,” she shot back. “But I’m not you. I came here because I didn’t have a place to go, I had no plan. So I just tagged along with your plan, and that was a mistake. New York is too…”

“Too real?”

Sigourney’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah. I’m a loser. I couldn’t hack it. Whatever you want to say, that’s me. I admit it.”

Hannah sat down on the lumpy couch. She looked sad too. “I thought about moving home today,” she said softly.

“You what?”

“I thought about it. I really did. Jennifer yelled at me. She looked at some of the queries I’d passed on, and she told me that my evaluations were weak.”

“Oh, Hannah. I’m really sorry. Seriously.”

Hannah sighed. “It sucks. I really try and I thought I was doing well, but now my boss is going to be reading over and checking literally everything I do. Which sort of defeats the reason for my existence, to tell you the truth. I’m supposed to be helping make her life easier, not putting more work on her plate.”

Sigourney dropped down next to her. “Maybe we…maybe we should both leave together. Tomorrow.”

“First, spill it. Tell me what happened that was so bad,” Hannah said.

Sigourney really didn’t want to. But she figured she owed it to her. So she did tell her the whole thing—well, everything but the part where she was super attracted and wanted to fuck the hot CEO. She did tell her that he was handsome and intimidating and how she’d had multiple panic attacks, especially at the end when she’d run out of his office, pretty much screaming bloody murder for no reason.

When she’d finished, Hannah was speechless for just about the first time ever.

“Oh my God,” was all she could say.

“I know, I know,” Sigourney said. “Could you never tell this to anyone? Ever?”

Hannah laughed, shaking her head. “I think I’ve heard of that guy—Orlando Parker. He’s like…big time. Like the kind of guy who eats dinner with the President and George Clooney.”

“You’re really making me feel better,” Sigourney replied sarcastically.

“I’m sorry, it’s just weird thinking that you were alone with him in his office and he was offering you this crazy position with his firm. For what did you say—a hundred thousand a year?”

“One hundred twenty thousand,” Sigourney corrected her. “And room and board, and use of the company car.”

“Oh my God,” Hannah said again.