Taboo Boss
An Older Man Younger Woman Romance
Natasha L. Black
Contents
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Epilogue
Second Chance Baby (Sample)
A Note from the Author
Books by Natasha L. Black
Connect with Natasha L. Black
Introduction
Off-limits? We’re on my turf now.
Workaholic playboy, hookups but nothing more—that’s my style.
Or it was, until Amanda did me a favor.
My assistant, dedicated, delicious, and so forbidden.
I summoned her to my hometown.
We were supposed to be working.
Out of the office, it’s a different playing field.
No rules. Winner takes all.
Because I mean to take ALL of her.
What do you do when something forbidden feels so right?
You do it again and again.
All night long.
1
Tom
I scanned the table of investors and cleared my throat. This was going to be a breeze.
Or at least it should be.
“Hello, everyone,” I said, nodding at the eleven people spread out along the oval table in the presentation room.
I’d had this room built for just this purpose, allowing me to comfortably host the investors all while showing off what they were putting their money into without seeming braggy. The tall windows had a terrific view of the bay, and the chairs were high-back leather and extraordinarily comfortable. It was a room designed to say, “you spent your money wisely, so keep giving us more.” It looked like it was working for them, except for one older man in the corner. I made sure to make eye contact with him as much as possible.
“I’m glad to see we were all able to make it in person, and I’m happy with the attendance,” I said.
“It just a mid-quarter meeting. It better be worth my time,” came the rough, cranky voice of the investor in the corner. His name was Robert C. Fuller, and he was clearly unimpressed. Not that I was at all shocked by that because being unimpressed was essentially his perpetual state of being.
“Oh, I assure you, Mr. Fuller, it will be,” I said.
There was a time when I would have liked to think exorbitantly wealthy people building the foundation of powerful companies had at least a modicum of self-control and decorum, but no, that was not the case.
Mr. Fuller was the lesson I had to learn and apparently had to keep on learning. I kept reminding myself my mother would want me to be nice. She always taught me that the smartest and strongest man in the room was usually the quietest. While I wasn’t entirely sure I bought that as a blanket principle, sometimes it helped keep my mouth shut.
In all honesty, it was probably just that thinking about my mother was what kept me from lashing out and telling Mr. Fuller I didn’t need him or his money. Working as hard as I did was for me and my own success, but there was much more than that. The bar I’d bought for my brothers to run in our hometown of Astoria, Oregon, was to make sure they could take care of our parents.
Six months ago, we’d lost our father to cancer, but our mother was still fighting against her own disease and now against her grief as well. The stronger my business position here, the more I could provide for them and the better the life she could have. It was worth an obnoxious investor every now and then.
“Well, get on with it, Tom,” he said.
I snapped out of my thoughts and bristled. Some of the other investors called me by my first name as well, but I considered those people my friends. When it came from Fuller, it made my teeth grind against each other, but I didn’t show it. I gave a professional smile and turned my shoulder toward him to start the presentation.
“Without further delay,” I said, tapping a button on my phone. The wall behind me faded and then brightened, going from what looked like a nondescript light grey wall to a screen I could control. “As you can see, our projections were for a mild increase in spending on research and development, that would be matched and surpassed by projections for sales and licensing.”
In the corner, Mr. Fuller crossed his arms over his chest and made a grunting noise. I glanced his way but pressed on. I brought up the next slide.
There was an audible gasp in the room, and I grinned. Several of the investors’ eyes had lit up, and I could see a few of them punching messages into their phones. Mr. Fuller in the corner seemed to not change his expression too much, but I was used to reading his poker face. Inside, he was at least mildly impressed. For now.
I continued on, giving them the lay of the land with our current deals and partnerships and where our expenses would put us. The numbers were nothing short of fantastic, and I could see where a few of the investors were itching to possibly talk about expansion. I knew it was coming, and I felt like I needed to temper it a little. There was a lot of profit to be made before we started spending hard on growing bigger.
When the meeting finished, the investors gathered around me to shake hands and try to schedule times to have one-on-one meetings over the next day or so. Many of them lived in the area, but a few had flown in just for the meeting and would be flying out again the next day. Amanda, my secretary, diligently took notes and scheduled appointments, and I made my way to Mr. Fuller.
“Not bad,” he said before I even reached him.
“I’d say it’s a little better than not bad,” I countered.
“Still half the quarter left,” he grumbled. It sounded almost like a threat, like there was a part of him that wanted to see me fail.
It wouldn’t be that far out of the realm of possibility for that to be exactly what he was thinking. It wasn’t uncommon for older investors not to respond well to younger men coming in and finding faster success than they did. I still had a good distance to go to get to the level of some of these men, but the millions lining my bank account came faster than was expected, and I only saw myself going up.
“Have a nice day,” I offered.
With that, he turned and walked away, and I stood speechless in place. Amanda came up behind me and tapped my shoulder. I turned to face her. She met me nearly at eye level in the heels that she somehow managed to work in all day, and I smiled. Amanda returned the smile and then hurriedly looked down at her tablet.
“So, I had to schedule Mr. and Mrs. Keaton for later this afternoon as they are due for a flight to Beijing tomorrow morning,” she said.
“Oof,” I said, and she nodded. “That’s a long ride.”
“It is. Other than that, you are free fo
r the next few hours,” she said, crossing something off her screen.
“Are you hungry?” I asked, walking back across the room to wave my hand over the sensor for the lights. As I did, the lights in the room shifted from a presentation brightness to a calmer, more energy-friendly dimness.
“I could go for lunch. I only had a bagel this morning,” Amanda replied.
“Then off to lunch. My treat. Come on, I have a standing reservation at June,” I said.
We stepped into the restaurant and took our seats near the back. June was my favorite restaurant on the strip where our office building was located, and as such, I visited a lot. I had even developed their app on the side, just to keep myself busy one week. I refused payment in lieu of always having the same table available to me as long as I gave them fifteen minutes’ notice. Knowing them, I could give them none, and they would toss customers out on their ear if they needed to in order to seat me.
As we sat and ate, we chatted about the meeting, and specifically Mr. Fuller. Amanda was an animated talker, and I enjoyed listening to her rant about how rude the old man was. I knew she was too much of a professional to say anything like that outside of my company, but I got to see the real Amanda.
For the last six years, I had grown to rely on her to keep functioning at my best on a daily basis. Not only was she a model employee, but I enjoyed her company on lunch breaks and business retreats. She was invaluable, and I appreciated her presence and her ability to make my work life much easier.
As we spoke, I tossed out an idea, using her as my sounding board as I often did. Together we began to cobble together a few ideas that could double our profits for the remaining portion of the quarter. This way I could show Mr. Fuller exactly how wrong he was to be so pessimistic. And maybe he’d stop calling me Tom.
When we got back to work, I went into my office and dove into the paperwork for the day. Usually, I hated paperwork and would procrastinate doing it until the end of the day, but I was in such a good mood I wanted to knock it out and celebrate a little. Suddenly a thought hit me, and I pressed the button on the side of my phone and asked Amanda to come to my office.
Moments later, Amanda arrived at my door. I looked up at her tall, curvy frame and for a moment, noticed how pretty she was. I shook my head to toss those thoughts away.
“Amanda, did you send out those emails this morning?” I asked.
“Knocked that out when I got here,” she said.
“Awesome.” I shook my head as I looked down at the papers on my desk. “I do not know what I would do without you.”
“Oh, you know,” she said, waving me off, “fail miserably and be lost at sea. Something like that.”
I laughed loudly and she giggled, one hand moving up to rest on the doorframe for a second. She reached up and brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and took a deep breath in. Her smile dazzled from across the room.
“So, is there anything else, or did you just call me in here to grill me about something you could have sent a text for?” she asked, teasingly.
“No, that’s all. You can go back to… doing whatever it is you do when you’re caught up on all my insanity,” I said.
“I am never fully caught up on your insanity, Mr. Anderson,” she said through a grin. Something about the way she smiled and said my name made my stomach tighten. “But I manage to find things to fill any downtime I do have.”
“I am sure you do. Thank you, Amanda,” I said.
She nodded and turned, heading back to her desk in the bullpen area of the upper floor. I made sure that her desk was never too far from mine due to her incredible value to me. But today I was almost sad I hadn’t put her desk on the other side of the room, just to have a few more moments to watch her walk away.
Her ass was tight under her skirt, and I couldn’t help but stare at her as she walked to her desk and then slid into her chair. Her long legs, in black stockings, crossed at the heels as she opened the jacket button in the front and leaned down over her desk and turned on her tablet. My thoughts wandered into a territory that wasn’t exactly uncharted, and I chastised myself for it immediately.
I was her boss. I had to remember that. There were rules about how a boss and an employee were supposed to interact, and no matter what actions I may or may not take, thinking like I was thinking was dangerous. No matter how hot she looked, I needed to keep my eyes straight ahead. She was the forbidden fruit.
I couldn’t even have a taste.
* * *
I got home just after six, the rush-hour traffic holding me back and reminding me daily of the biggest downside to having such a prominently placed office. I preferred to live a little further out, still in the city, but in a quieter area of town.
The enormous and empty mansion that I had bought for myself sat on the top of one of the infamous San Francisco hills. As I gave my eco-friendly car a nudge, I silently missed my old gas-guzzling sports car from home. That kind of vehicle was a no-go here, though, and especially not for someone as high-powered as I was. I’d be crucified in the papers.
Stepping inside, I tossed my jacket and undid my tie. There were emails that were already filling up my inbox, but Amanda would sort them and send me an overview before nine.
In the six years since I’d hired her, I had built an empire and made more money than I knew what to do with. But the loneliness of the house was prominent, as it was devoid of any housekeepers or cooks who had already left, ensuring the laundry was done and put away and meals sitting in the refrigerator.
As usual, I had one of two options of dealing with it. I could head down to my gym and work out until I couldn’t feel my emotions anymore over the physical exhaustion, or I could head to the study and open up the liquor cabinet. Convincing myself that I was celebrating the great numbers and successful meeting, I headed to the study, kicking off my shoes and putting on thick slippers in the process. I would change into pajamas after a shower and sit in the room reading later. But for now, I just wanted to get the party started.
Three generous pours of whiskey later, and I decided to forgo the shower. Stripping down to my boxers, I threw on a comfortable robe, headed back into the study, and told my electronic assistant to open the panel in the wall. A large television revealed itself, and I pulled the entire bottle of twenty-year-old scotch with me and sat heavily on my leather chair, putting on something to distract me from the fact that no one sat in the chair beside mine.
I didn’t even bother pouring the scotch into a glass.
2
Amanda
My grandmother always used to say that there were morning people and there were night people, then there was me. It was because even when I was young, I started my day at that kind of time so offensive to most people, neither night nor day wanted to claim it. It was too dark to be considered morning, but night had already given up on it and attached the A.M. designation.
While most children visiting their grandparents for vacation hit the snooze button as many times as they possibly could and lay around the house for the better portion of the day, come first light, I was already outside helping my grandmother garden. By then I had already gotten up, gotten dressed, and had usually played for a little while I waited for her to be ready.
I didn’t know what it was about me that made me want to hit the ground running at an hour when the only ones awake were the IRS and God. But that was the way it always was, and it didn’t get any different as I got older. If anything, I tried to find as many ways as possible to trim down how much sleep I needed.
There was far too much to do every day to waste it with my head stuffed under a pillow. It was the reason my dormmates in college hated me, and why nobody wanted to room with me when I got my first apartment. And why, even now, I was always the first person to get to the office in the morning.
I was twenty-three years old when I first started working for Tom Anderson. For the first several months I worked at the office, I showed up at the building so early the only pe
rson there was security. Considering the guard didn’t just sit there at the front of the building and wait for people to materialize, I always had to wait for him to finish his rounds and come back through the lobby to notice me.
He would let me in, albeit begrudgingly, and at some point during the day, Tom would come by my desk to point out the security guard complained about me getting there so early. After a while, those visits turned into just him making note of the time I had shown up at the office. It almost became a game to him. Like the night before he would make a guess and wait to see if the next morning he was right.
It took six months of being Tom’s secretary and annoying the security guard by showing up so early before my boss finally just gave me my own code to the building. Since there were security cameras monitoring every door and I still had to swipe my employee identification card before putting my code in, it was fairly secure.
My years working with Tom were more than enough to teach me there was always the possibility of something coming up. It was better to be a touch too ambitious and have your work done pre-dawn than it was to get caught in an unexpected situation and end up behind.
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