Falling for Mr. Statham: A Billionaire Romance (Boxed Set)

by Whitney G.

  “Get in the car, Claire.”

  “I told you no.” She held her hand out. “Please be a gentleman.”

  “You’re right. Where are my manners?”

  I stepped out of the car and walked around to the passenger’s side, opening the door for her. When she didn’t make a move, I lifted her into my arms and carried her over to her seat, ignoring her exaggerated sighs.

  I let my fingers linger against her body for a few seconds longer than necessary, reveling in the feel of her soft skin. I shut her door and walked back over to my side of the car, revving it up before she could decide to get out.

  “Put your seatbelt on.” I clicked mine into place. “Claire?”

  I reached over her shoulder and buckled her strap for her, resisting the urge to snap off her shirt. Ignoring the intense glare she was giving me, I sped off towards the highway.

  “Thank you for the ride, Mr. Statham.” She cleared her throat twenty minutes into the ride.

  “Thank you for accepting it. Am I de-invited to your birthday party now?”

  “No.” She looked out her window. “You can still come if you want.”

  I was coming regardless...

  “Good. How was your day at work?”

  “Wonderful. As it always is, Mr. Statham.”

  I turned off at the next exit. “Please call me Jonathan.”

  “I prefer Mr. Statham. It helps me keep in mind why I will never go out with you.”

  I laughed. “I love a woman with a sense of humor.”

  I pulled into the towing lot and parked right outside the holding office. Claire hastily unbuckled her seat-belt, but I reached over and put my hand over hers.

  “Wait here. I’ll have them pull it out front for you. It’s the least I can do.”

  I walked inside the small building and the receptionist blushed. “How can I help you today, sir?”

  “I’m here to retrieve a car that was towed about a half hour ago from Jennifer Drive. It’s a light gray—”

  “Audi Q7?” She pulled a folder from the shelf above her desk. “My records say it was parked in a zone without a proper parking pass. Statham Industries must be an awful place to work, huh? We tow at least ten cars a day from there.”

  “Yes, it’s a horrible place. How much to get the car out?”

  “Three hundred and fifty dollars.”

  That’s ridiculous...Do my employees really have to pay that much every time?

  I handed her my credit card and she had me fill out a few pages of paperwork.

  “I’ll have it brought out in a second.” She disappeared.

  When I walked back outside, Claire was leaning against the hood of my car with her arms folded above her head. Images of her lying like that in my bed, on my shower bench, and on my yacht quickly flashed through my mind.

  The things I would do to her...

  “How much do I owe you?” She sat up, frowning.

  “Nothing, except our date that we’ll be discussing at your birthday party.”

  “I don’t think so. I’m fine with you coming to my birthday party, but after what happened today, I’m not going out with you.” She suppressed a smile. “I mean it.”

  “We’ll discuss it on Friday.”

  Out the corner of my eye, I saw her car rolling through the lot. As it moved closer, I heard a strange popping sound and then I saw the problem: Both of her back tires were shredded; they looked like rubber shingles.

  “Are you kidding me?” She rushed over as a scruffy guy stepped out of her car. “Why do my tires look like that? They were perfectly fine thirty minutes ago!”

  He shrugged and tossed her the keys. “I just pull the cars around. I don’t ask questions ma’am.”

  “How am I supposed to get home in this?” She was fuming now, and I could tell she was trying her best not to slap him. “Why would you deliberately slash my tires? Towing the car wasn’t enough?”

  “Well ma’am, we do sell tires here if you’re interested. We currently have a free installation promotion if you buy—”

  “Shut the fuck up.” She shook her head. “And get away from me. Right now.”

  He backed away from her with his hands raised in defeat. He pulled a “tire sale” flyer from his pocket and slipped it to me before disappearing.

  “I’m sorry about your car—again.” I waited for her to look at me. “I didn’t know that they—”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll just remember not to park my car in the ‘nine to five only’ zone from now on. Are you going to prevent me from calling a cab this time too?”

  “Why don’t you drive my car home? I’ll have yours taken to a body shop and have it back at corporate for you tomorrow.”

  “What?” She looked confused. “You’re offering to let me drive your—” She looked over at my car and shrugged. “What type of car is that?”

  I smiled. “It’s a Bugatti.”

  “Right. And you’re taking my car to a body shop? What’s the catch? You think doing that will make me go out with you?”

  “No catch. I think you’ve suffered enough disappointment for one day. That’s all.”

  She studied me for a minute, looking into my eyes as if she were contemplating my offer. “I don’t want to feel like I owe you anything because of this...I’ll just call one of my friends to come get me. I’m sure—”

  “There’s no catch, Claire. I’m just trying to be nice to you. Can you let me be nice to you?”

  She still looked unsure, but she nodded.

  “Good. Park it in lot eight tomorrow morning and leave the keys inside. I’ll park yours in lot nine and leave your keys with security.”

  She grabbed a few things from her car and handed me the keys. “You sure you’re okay with letting me drive your car? Wouldn’t it be easier for you to drive me home?”

  “As much as I would like to take you home, Claire...” I smiled. “I’m sure you probably think that would be inappropriate.”

  She blushed. “You’re exactly right.” She slipped inside the driver’s seat, locking her eyes on mine for a few seconds before finally driving off.

  I pulled out my phone. “Greg? Yes. I’m at 3465 Jefferson Street. I need a tow truck and a town car...And could you get Mr. Lane from Parking Security to call me within five minutes? I need to make an immediate change to the employee parking policy.”

  I watched my Bugatti ease onto the interstate ramp from afar and sighed.

  I’ve never let anyone drive that car...

  Chapter 5

  Claire

  I woke up on my fortieth birthday feeling no different than the day before. There was no “aha-moment,” no feeling of dread, no sense of uneasiness. Nothing.

  I rushed to the mirror to make sure Mother Nature hadn’t decided to throw wrinkles and creases on my face all at once—to make sure she wasn’t trying to play some cruel joke on me.

  She didn’t, and she wasn’t.

  I prepared for work like I always did, trying my best not to think about how sexy Jonathan Statham was or about his sleek black Bugatti that was parked right outside.

  I slipped into my favorite white dress and matching blazer; I’d always admired how the ruffles flattered my curves and made my waist look two sizes smaller.

  I read the birthday cards my daughters left on the kitchen table and rejoiced at the fact that they’d bought a cake from the store instead of attempting to bake one.

  I was sure I would never get the chance to drive a Bugatti again, so I took the long way to work. I coasted through the residential neighborhoods, cruised past a few parks, and circled around corporate five times before pulling into the executive lot.

  “Miss Gracen?” My assistant Rita met me as soon as I walked inside the doors.

  “Yes?”

  “First off, Happy Birthday! Second off, the Klein brothers specifically requested you to lead the ad project for their new eco-tablets. Should I tell them you’ll be available to do that?”

  “
Yes. That’s fine.”

  “Great.” She scribbled a few things on her pad and struggled to keep up with my walking pace. “Mr. Barnes is out sick today; his wife called from the hospital. That leaves you to work with the beta script team this afternoon.”

  Perfect...

  “Anything else?” I pushed the door to my office open.

  She and I both gasped. My office was filled with bouquets of calla lilies and roses, with white and pink balloons that completely covered my wall of windows.

  Wow...

  “I’m not sure when all this got here...” She scratched her head. “Anyway, I need your notes on this year’s proposed budget as soon as possible, and Mr. Statham booked a thirty minute meeting with you at eleven o’ clock.”

  “What? What was that last thing you said?”

  “Mr. Statham wants to meet with you at eleven o’ clock—in his office.”

  About what?

  “Is that all?”

  “No,” she said. She pulled a small pink card off her clipboard. “Happy Birthday again, Miss Gracen. You’re way better than the last director I worked for. I really mean that.”

  “Thank you, Rita.”

  I moved a vase of lilies from my chair and flipped open the silver card that sat on top.

  Claire,

  I hope you’re enjoying your birthday. I’m looking forward to spending part of it with you tonight.

  —Your completely immoral and highly inappropriate Boss,

  PS: You’ve looked stunning every day this week...

  I was flattered but I didn’t have time to wonder about why he’d sent so many flowers, and I knew I wouldn’t have time to meet with him; I had too much work to do.

  From eight o’ clock to nine o’clock, I made sure everyone in the department was on task and supervised the interns’ brainstorming meeting. I even managed to spare a few extra minutes to get ahead on some of Mr. Barnes’ past due assignments.

  From nine o’clock to ten o’ clock, I conferred with the art directors about “sPhone blue” visuals, sat in on a conference call with the national marketing committee, and started reading the proposed expense reports for our eco-tablet campaign.

  At ten fifty five, my phone rang.

  “Claire Gracen. Who am I speaking with?”

  “Miss Gracen, this is Angela, Mr. Statham’s secretary. I’m looking at his schedule and I see that he requested a meeting with you today. Are you on your way up?”

  I have two hundred pages to read...

  “No, Angela.” I flipped over a sheet of paper. “I am not. Could you please inform Mr. Statham that while I do accept last minute appointments from clients, all internal personnel—even my own superiors, have to schedule their appointments at least twenty four hours in advance. That’s company policy as of sixty days ago. He’s the one who sent out the memo, so he should know that.”

  The line went silent. I was sure not too many people rejected a meeting with the CEO.

  “I um...” She coughed. “I will let him know that, Miss Gracen. Have a great day.”

  “You too.” I hung up.

  I continued looking over the expense reports, making small notes here or there. I was halfway done when I heard a knock at my door.

  “I don’t want anything for lunch, Rita! Thank you though!”

  The door opened and in walked Jonathan.

  He smiled as he shut the door. “Good morning, Miss Gracen.”

  “Hello, Mr. Statham...” My mouth went dry and my body tensed at the sight of him. He really was a pure example of what a perfect man should look like. He was dressed in an impeccable black suit with a white button-down shirt, and shiny silver cufflinks that gleamed against the light.

  His eyes were regarding me intensely, and I knew that he was slightly running his tongue across his lips on purpose.

  He sat down in the seat across from my desk and smiled even wider. “How are you today?”

  “I’m quite fine, and yourself?”

  “Pretty good. You know, I don’t normally get scolded by an employee, but it’s refreshing to know that there are other policies that need to be changed.”

  I didn’t say anything. My heart was beating too fast and I didn’t want him to sense that I was completely captivated by him.

  Think about his age...Think about his age...

  He put his elbows on the desk and leaned forward. “You couldn’t spare thirty minutes for me?”

  Take a deep breath, avert your gaze to the wall behind him, and clear your throat...

  “Mr. Statham—”

  “You really don’t have to call me that when we’re alone.”

  My breath hitched at the way he’d said “alone” and I took another deep breath.

  “I feel more comfortable calling you that since this is, and will always be, a strictly professional relationship. And no, I could not spare thirty minutes. Our head director called in sick today, and since I have to handle his reports as well as my own, I don’t have much free time.”

  “Fair enough,” he said as he looked into my eyes. “I just wanted to personally return your car keys.” He placed them on my desk. “And tell you Happy Birthday in person.”

  “Well, thank you very much and I appreciate all the flowers. Your spiel only took three seconds though, so there was no need for a thirty minute time slot. If you don’t mind, I need to finish my reading now. Have a great day, Mr. Statham.” I looked back down at my work, hoping he would say “You too” and leave my office, but I sensed him standing up and walking over to me.

  I tried my best to act like he wasn’t in the room, to stay focused on the document I was reading, but I felt him hovering right behind my shoulder.

  “Claire...”

  I slowly turned my head and looked up at him. “Yes?”

  He was silent.

  He reached down and ran his fingers through my hair—slowly and gently, making my heart beat ten times faster. He leaned in like he was going to kiss me—tilting my chin up so my lips could touch his, using his other hand to caress my neck, but then he suddenly stopped.

  He stepped back and sighed. “What time does your birthday party start tonight?”

  “Nine...” I could barely hear my own voice.

  “Well, I have a last minute meeting tonight so I might be really late. I’ve been looking forward to it all week.”

  Silence.

  I looked into his eyes and he looked back into mine. There was palpable tension in the air and I wanted him to slice through it. I wanted him to step back over and kiss me until I was out of breath, to rip my clothes off and—

  His cell phone started to ring, breaking us out of the spell.

  “Hello?” he answered, keeping his eyes on me. “Yeah...by noon on Monday. Okay...Okay, I’ll be right there.” He headed for the door. “I’ll see you tonight?”

  “Yes...” I waited until the door closed and slipped out of my chair.

  I stood in front of the bathroom mirror at Havana and tugged at the end of my dress. It was a red haltered dress that ended near the middle of my thighs and accentuated my breasts—the type of dress I would prevent my daughters from wearing until they were twenty one.

  “You don’t think this makes it look like I’m trying too hard, Sands?” I turned around and frowned at the low deep cut in the back. “This is a bit revealing...”

  “Trying too hard to do what? You look good, Claire! If I had your legs, I would show them off all the time. Is your boss still coming?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. He said he had a late meeting.”

  “Well, I hope he comes. I have to see the man that makes you blush.”

  “He does not make me blush!”

  Sandra pursed her lips and gave me her “whatever you say” look. It still shocked me that she’d never found someone to settle down with. She was pretty, had her own practice, and seemed to charm every man she met. Unlike me, she’d embraced her age—forty one, and swore that she’d rather be forty than twenty
any day.

  “Are we going to stand in here all day, Claire? You know Helen can only sit by herself for so long.”

  “Right.” I looked myself over one last time and followed her back out into the lounge.

  We walked over to our reserved table, but Helen wasn’t there.

  A man in a white tuxedo stepped in front of us. “Are you ladies a part of Claire Gracen’s party?”

  “Yes. I’m Claire Gracen,” I said.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Gracen. Come with me.” He smiled. “We’re sorry we didn’t upgrade your table as soon as you arrived. Please forgive us.”

  I shrugged my shoulders at Sandra and followed the man onto a glass elevator, up to the balcony level that overlooked the marble stoned dance floor.

  He led us over to a luxurious VIP table in a corner where Helen was downing a Cosmo and smiling.

  “I told you two not to spend that much money for my birthday.” I sat down, looking back and forth between her and Sandra. “Why would you—”

  “You think either of us would spend thousands of dollars on a VIP table for one night?” Helen scoffed. “I think they mixed your name up with someone else’s, but I’m going to drink as much as I can before they figure that out.”

  “Me too!” Sandra picked up a glass. “Cheers to Claire for finally joining the forty club! The best club there is!”

  We clinked our glasses together and laughed.

  As we talked, the waiters continued refilling our glasses and bringing over trays of delicious h’ordeuvres—insisting that we try out the exotic specials that were only available at the bar across the room.

  I kept asking them about the price of the drinks and the amount of the tab, hoping it wouldn’t be too much at the end of the night. Yet, each time I asked, they would laugh and say, “Don’t worry. It’s been more than taken care of.”

  “So, last week I had sex at the zoo.” Helen put down her drink. “I think I could have lived without that one. I’m not sure if being pounded right in front of the giraffe exhibit was as exciting as I thought it would be.”

  I spluttered my drink back into the glass. “Could we not talk about your sex life for one day? Just one?”