by Haley Travis
Daddy’s Billionaire Boss
Older Man, Younger Woman Instalove Romance
By Haley Travis
Copyright 2021 Haley Travis. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted or duplicated in any form whatsoever without express written permission of the author. This book is intended for sale to adults only. All main characters are over 18. This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to actual people or specific locations or details is completely coincidental, or intended fictitiously.
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CONTENTS
Chapter One ~ Emily
Chapter Two ~ Mason
Chapter Three ~ Emily
Chapter Four ~ Mason
Chapter Five ~ Emily
Chapter Six ~ Mason
Chapter Seven ~ Emily
Chapter Eight ~ Mason
Chapter Nine ~ Emily
Chapter Ten ~ Mason
Chapter Eleven ~ Emily
Chapter Twelve ~ Mason
Chapter Thirteen ~ Emily
Chapter Fourteen ~ Mason
Chapter Fifteen ~ Emily
Chapter Sixteen ~ Mason
Chapter Seventeen ~ Emily
Chapter Eighteen ~ Mason
Chapter Nineteen ~ Emily
Epilogue ~ Mason
Other Books and About the Author
1
_____
Emily
I’d always been completely comfortable with my status as a Daddy’s Girl. My slightly scatterbrained Mom was always busy with her various charities and projects, so once I was old enough to have real conversations, Dad and I would spend the weekends having mini-adventures.
Museums, galleries, restaurants we hadn’t heard of in neighborhoods we didn’t usually go to – we sampled cuisine from around the world, and browsed in the most fascinating shops.
My father’s job had always interested me. Coordinating information for chemical and medical laboratories, compiling international research, and writing and proofing the documentation wasn’t glamorous, but it was steady, secure work.
It actually inspired my part-time job of researching and fact-checking for several local podcasts.
Even though I’d seen a few photos of his small beige cubicle, I’d never been to his office. I had no idea why he’d asked me to drop in this afternoon, but it was wonderful to finally get a tour.
Everyone was very polite, but quiet. Heads down, fingers zipping across their keyboards in a blur. It felt almost clinical, which matched the monochromatic look of the entire floor of the building.
I appreciated hard work, but personally, I did my best research in my pink donut pajamas with orange headphones on for a healthy dose of eighties synth pop.
Dad was the most subdued I’d ever seen him, as we walked down another hallway. His hand clamped on my shoulder when I started walking too quickly. Were these workers sensitive to sudden movements? I nearly giggled out loud.
“That’s my boss, Mason McHenry,” Dad said, nodding toward the giant glass boardroom, where sun was streaming in and bouncing off every shiny metal accent.
Dad had mentioned his boss many times over the past few years, with a mixture of admiration and fear. Apparently Mason was ruthlessly cold, but absolutely brilliant.
A tall beast of a man in a black suit was striding purposefully up and down the length of the gray room. The set of his jaw was stern, and his perfect lips moved quickly beside his phone. I couldn’t help wondering what he was talking about.
“Mason always paces during important phone calls,” Dad explained with a chuckle. “It helps him focus.”
“I guess it’s good if the President of your company is extremely focused,” I smiled.
Something echoed in the back of my mind. A memory that took a moment to pull up from the murky depths. Trying not to stare too obviously as he passed by the pane of glass closest to us, I examined his left hand.
His little finger was bent strangely.
Staring at the positively magnificent man as he walked by, my trembling fingers pulled my phone from my purse. I took a fresh photo every year on my birthday so that I’d always have “the list” with me. In my whimsical sixteen year old handwriting, there it was, plain as day.
<<<>>>
Extremely focused.
Bent little finger on left hand.
Green and gold eyes.
Strangely obsessed with coffee.
Strict and cold with everyone on the planet
except for his one true love.
<<<>>>
It was just a coincidence. Obviously. It had to be.
On my sixteenth birthday, my constantly-traveling Aunt Betsy h ad been in town. I’d only met her a few times, but always enjoyed her monthly emails filled with photos and tales of adventure.
She insisted on giving me a crystal reading, telling me that I’d fall in love with a very improbable boyfriend. Peering into the inclusions of her jagged chunk of quartz, she had assured me that the details were clear.
Dutifully writing down the list of what she saw, I didn’t really believe it. But I wanted to.
There was no reason to hope for this mystical man. I’d never had the time to be interested in boys before.
Maybe that was the problem, I pondered, watching that huge, gorgeous physique stride purposefully along the glass wall. Maybe I’d been holding out for a man.
As Mason turned, the light from the windows highlighted his profile, sending my heart spiraling. I nearly dropped my phone, slipping it back into my bag with shaking hands.
Suddenly, for the first time, I needed my Aunt’s prediction to be true. I needed it to be him.
2
_____
Mason
Ending my phone call, I stood at the window, looking out over the city. Usually the precision and sharp lines of the buildings gave me confidence that there was some order in the world.
In my thirty-five years, I’d learned that searching for order brought me the important things. Wealth, power, stability, and comfort. In that order.
In all my years, I wouldn’t have thought I’d be phoning a presentation coach before every pitch meeting. But I was.
Curious as to why I was losing the odd project to competitors, I sent a questionnaire to my colleagues and clients, requesting honest and anonymous feedback. Of the few who were brave enough to comment, the opinion was unanimous.
I was cold.
I would have thought that precision, attention to detail, and the details of each project would be the most important factors. Yet apparently we now lived in a touchy-feely world where people wanted to pretend they were buddies with their business associates.
It was maddening, to say the least.
In my quest to bring in as much new business as possible this quarter, I’d resorted to calling Marjorie, my presentation coach, before each big meeting. I didn’t like the thought of bringing new people into my work space, so the phone calls were as far as I was willing to go.
She filled me full of witty observations about current events and the project at hand, reminding me to gesture and smile. Always, as she put it, bringing out my “humanity.”
As if I’m supposed to remember to smile while reciting dozens of statistics, and analytical details.
Observing the clean lines of the local architecture
brought me no peace today. A strange tension settled across the back of my shoulders. Either I worked out too hard yesterday, as I often did to relieve stress, or I was developing a negative feeling about this upcoming meeting.
Or maybe I just needed another coffee.
Spinning on my heel, I walked to the boardroom door, about to turn down the hall, when my shoes stopped dead in their tracks. My mouth may have actually hung open.
The girl in front of me was the most lusciously feminine looking creature I’d ever laid eyes on.
Dark brown hair, waving gently down to skim her shoulders. Mouthwatering, sensual curves hidden by peachy pink flowy fabric. Rosebud lips that looked softer than a flower petal.
And those eyes. Those warm, sparkling brown eyes as she turned, locking her gaze with mine.
One of my researchers, David Jameson, stepped in front of her. “Good morning, Mr. McHenry,” he said, his voice low, as if he knew that he was disturbing me.
David had been with the company for several years now. Quick, efficient, accurate, and stayed the hell out of my way. I appreciated that.
“This is my daughter Emily,” he said quickly. “I was just giving her a tour of the office.”
She stepped closer, and I automatically extended my hand. But for once, it wasn’t for a businesslike shake.
As she placed her delicate palm in mine, my breath hitched. My heart began to race. It was…unsettling. She belonged with me. We were supposed to be touching. It was a disturbing pull toward her.
Holding her silky hand gently, I realized with a start that I was smiling widely.
“Lovely to meet you, Emily,” I said. “What do you think of our office so far?”
“It’s beautiful,” her light voice chimed sweetly. “You have a wonderful view from here.”
If the angel enjoys something, give her more, the back of my mind commanded.
“David, grab the presentation materials in the green folder from my desk and have Sandra bring me a fresh coffee while I show your daughter the view.”
Before I even realized I was doing it, my hand slipped around Emily’s shoulder as I guided her into the boardroom, to the corner where the giant glass panels met.
“Wow,” she breathed, looking straight across the downtown core.
I couldn’t tear my eyes from those fresh, dewy cheeks, or get over the way her eyes shone as she stared out at the city. When she turned to smile up at me, I saw her breath catch. Quickly taking a step back, I hoped that I hadn’t frightened her by standing too close.
“Your eyes,” she barely breathed.
“Yes, I know it’s a bit odd,” I said quickly, realizing that the strange discoloration was unnerving to some people. “I was born with it.”
“It’s incredible,” she said softly. “Green with a gold streak.” Her hand twitched against her purse, jangling a selection of animal charms from her tiny silver bracelets.
I had the distinct impression that something about my eyes excited her.
There was a murmur at the door. My clients were ushered in by my assistant, Sandra. She placed my coffee at the head of the table, just before David set down a thick folder of paperwork.
“Emily,” he said quietly, “we should go.”
Looking down at this precious young lady, I could feel myself smiling again.
Suddenly it came to me. If Emily were in the room, I’d be smiling naturally in front of everyone from Jordan and Smythe Pharmaceuticals. That would certainly help with my so-called “complete lack of likability.”
“Why don’t you stay?” I asked. “You and your father could sit at the back, and take notes.”
“Really?” she asked excitedly. “That would be amazing. Thanks.”
David looked puzzled, but led her immediately to a seat beside him at the far end of the long boardroom table.
Reluctantly tearing my focus away from Emily, I greeted all of the clients warmly. Oddly, it felt more natural. Now that I had a real spark of heat deep in my chest, it seemed much easier.
I even found their endless questions less annoying, since I could look up to Emily whenever I needed a split second of pure joy.
Although I always prepared well for presentations, I had no idea what I actually said through it this time. All I knew was that the clients eventually left, the latest drug research team looked impressed and grateful, and we made arrangements to prepare several new reports over the next few months.
All the while, my eyes could barely stray from Emily’s. Whatever this strange magnetic pull was between us, she was definitely feeling some of it as well.
Yet she was hard to read. She seemed to be studying me in a strange way.
At the end of the meeting, as I was smiling warmly and clapping people on the back, I saw David rush Emily from the room. No matter. I certainly knew where I could contact her. I just had to come up with some excuse that wouldn’t upset her father.
On my way back to my giant gray and steel office, I nodded to Sandra as I passed her desk. “The Indonesian espresso, and send in Timothy.”
“Yes, sir.”
Somehow I was going to find out everything there was to know about Emily Jameson. Even if I had to use my own company’s research department to do it.
3
_____
Emily
Curled up on the couch to read was always my favorite way to end the evening.
Looking over, I could see my mom through a row of tall ferns. She had taken over the dining room table with notes as she designed the seating chart for her latest hospital fundraiser. Or maybe it was for children’s sports equipment. I could never keep track.
Dad usually spent at least an hour every night working overtime from his tiny home office. He loved his work, but was also hoping to move up someday.
MMH Corporation seemed to have many different departments that specialized in research, development, and blending information from various international companies. I didn’t understand all of it, but there was a lot of research, which I knew my father loved.
To me, it looked like a thousand pages of nonsense, but Dad claimed it was his “detective work”.
His team looked for connections between different drugs and brand new studies. He always laughed and said someday he would find a foot cream that cured tinnitus, or something totally random.
He was so enthusiastic that I found myself drawn to it as well, in a much different way.
My e-reader rested on my lap as I skimmed through the latest script of a podcast I was fact-checking. I always liked to read it as a listener first, so that I could enjoy the content before beginning to pick it apart for potential errors.
The end of the couch lurched, and I looked up and was surprised to see Dad sitting beside me. “What’s up?” I asked.
Running a hand through his hair, his lips were tight. He was bothered. “Honey, did you tell Mr. McHenry what work you do?”
Thinking back to our few moments standing so close in his boardroom, all I could remember was those magical green eyes, and the streak of amber gold that slashed across his left iris.
It would have made sense that he asked me what I did. Surely we couldn’t have just been staring into each other’s eyes for so long that I forgot the entire conversation.
“I might have. Why?”
He shook the phone in his hand. “He just called me, wondering if you’d like a job as his intern.”
My chest constricted, blocking my air for a split second. “Oh. That sounds…interesting.”
“It’s a huge company, honey,” he said gently. “Tons of room for advancement over the years. I know you’re enjoying freelancing now, but this could be a great opportunity.”
Nodding, I glanced down to see my fingers gripping my pajama pants until my knuckles were white. “Do I need to go for an interview?”
Dad’s strange smile was unreadable. “No. You start tomorrow.”
Laughter bubbled out of me. “So he’s telling me, not asking me?”
/> Dad tapped my knee with the phone, giving me a pointed look. “Emily, this isn’t his only company. He runs it because he enjoys the work, I think. But he owns several corporations. People who are that obscenely wealthy just expect people to do what they want.”
I must have looked shocked, and he quickly added, “Nobody’s forcing you, of course. Feel free to say no. But he just expects everyone to say yes around him.”
A fascinating job at a giant company, working directly with the most beautiful man I’d ever met? Of course.