My Boss, the Billionaire (The Billionaire Kings Book 2)

by Serenity Woods

  I stare at her. “Wow.”

  “Doesn’t say a boss can’t have a relationship with an employee,” she says.

  There’s a long silence while I digest her words and she drinks her coffee with some amusement.

  She’s read the policy and memorized the relevant fucking paragraph. She’s telling me there’s no reason we can’t have a relationship.

  Technically, she’s right.

  I look out of the window. “There’s Mount Taranaki.”

  She follows my gaze. “You went to England, right? Doesn’t it look like a Walnut Whip?”

  I laugh. “Yeah.”

  “My nan sent me a box of them once. I was never sure about walnuts.”

  “I’ve never eaten one. I’m not a chocoholic.”

  “I have noticed. I think you have a gene missing.”

  My lips curve up. “Unlike you.”

  “I do like chocolate, yes.”

  “Especially mint.”

  She raises her eyebrows. “Well, well, Mr. King,” she murmurs. “I didn’t think you knew anything about me.”

  “I know more than you think.” I have a swallow of coffee. Careful, Leon! But I feel like Wishbone when he’s out in the field with the wind up his tail and his ears back. A touch of the old Leon is flooding my veins, making me reckless.

  Doesn’t say a boss can’t have a relationship with an employee. The words flutter around in my head like a handful of autumn leaves tossed into the air.

  “Go on then.” She leans back with her coffee in her hand. “Surprise me. Tell me what you know about me.”

  I shouldn’t admit anything I know, because that suggests I’ve been watching her, paying attention when I shouldn’t be.

  Again, I surprise myself by not caring. Maybe it’s because we’re not in the workplace. What happens in Wellington stays in Wellington, right?

  The angel on my right shoulder scolds me, but the devil on my left is long past caring.

  “I know you hold a ballet class every week,” I begin, “and that you’re a dancer.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Everyone knows that.”

  “You studied astrophysics for a while, and you have a telescope at home. You know the names of all the stars in the zodiac constellations.”

  Her lips curve up. “That’s true.”

  I settle back in my seat. “You hate shellfish but love fish sticks. You always have mayonnaise in your chicken salad sandwiches.”

  She’s watching me, and her eyes are aglow with something, interest, surprise?

  “You like Coke Zero but not Diet Coke,” I continue, “and your favorite coffee is a latte with a caramel shot. You like white wine but not red, and sometimes you drink brandy or whisky, but you once got drunk on Pernod and black and haven’t touched it since.”

  She gives a short laugh. “True.”

  “You say you like thrillers but you’re a rom-com girl at heart,” I tell her softly. “You cry easily at movies, especially if there are children in trouble.”

  She drops her gaze at that. I’m getting personal, and she’s trying to work out how I know all this.

  “You have a sister called Louise, and a niece called Abby. You ring your mother regularly but not your father. And you pretend you don’t care about that, but I know you’re very, very hurt by it.”

  She finally lifts her gaze to mine. “How?” she whispers. “I didn’t think you knew anything about me. How did you know all that?”

  “I listen.” I shift in my chair, a little uncomfortable. “I don’t mean that I eavesdrop on purpose, but over the past two years I’ve overheard the occasional conversation in the office, or you’ve taken a phone call at your desk.”

  Her smile has vanished—I’ve upset her.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I shouldn’t have said all that. It’s none of my business.”

  “It’s okay. I’m just surprised you’ve paid so much attention. I know so much about you, and I thought I was a woman of mystery.”

  That makes me laugh. “I’m sure there are still many mysteries about you I have left to uncover.”

  Dammit, that sounds sexual. Sure enough, her eyes twinkle, but she doesn’t say anything.

  Instead, she checks the time on her phone, and says, “Not long now. Do you want a final run-through?”

  “Yeah, okay.” I’m disappointed and relieved to turn the conversation to business matters. I open my laptop, and we spend the remainder of the flight going through the presentation.

  Both Nicola and I would like to help more with domestic violence issues, but we can’t do everything, and because we work at the Ark, our focus is on the animals affected by violence in the home. One issue I want to raise with the MPs is the need to provide temporary accommodation and veterinary support for animals that accompany people who leave violent relationships. We’ve prepared a short talk about the Animal Welfare Team, with pictures that Hal and Izzy and the others have taken of mistreated animals in their surroundings, which are quite shocking in nature, and then I’ll go on to talk about the veterinary center, and the importance of funding and charity donations to enable free care for mistreated animals.

  “Let’s go and do good,” Nicola says as the plane begins its descent into Wellington Airport.

  My heart rate increases at the thought of the rest of the day to come. I’m a little nervous and excited about the presentation, but I’m also really looking forward to what I have planned for the rest of the day. She’s given up her birthday to come with me, and I want to say thank you for that. I’ve booked somewhere really special for tonight, and I hope she enjoys the evening. I’ll enjoy it, because I’m with her.

  Oh dude. You’ve really got it bad.

  Chapter Nine

  Nix

  We have an amazing afternoon.

  I get to meet the PM, which is a thrill in itself, and although I’m really nervous, I make sure I enjoy every moment of the presentation. It’s held in a conference room in the Beehive—the New Zealand parliamentary building that’s shaped like a traditional skep. Fifteen MPs as well as the PM end up attending, more than we’d expected, so I’m pleased I made extra copies of the handout booklets. At first I suspect the MPs are keen to jump on whatever bandwagon the PM is interested in, but after a while I feel ashamed at that conclusion. It’s clear that everyone around the table is ashamed at our statistics of family violence, and we all want to make our country a better place.

  I quietly hand out the booklets while the PM makes her introductions, set up the laptop so it’s projecting onto the screen, cue up the presentation, and take a seat to one side as she finishes speaking and Leon rises to begin.

  He’s a force of nature to watch. He’s excited about the opportunity to speak to those in power about the topics that are important to him, and when he’s in this sort of mood, it’s as if he’s a lighthouse, beaming energy around the room. I know he’s a tad nervous because of the way he runs his fingers down his tie, but as he begins speaking his nerves dissipate, and, as I knew would happen, in the end he’s speaking without reading off the laptop, because he’s learned it off by heart.

  “I’m going to start with some shocking statistics,” he begins. “New Zealand has the highest reported rate of intimate-partner violence and child abuse in the developed world.”

  Most of the MPs will know that, so there aren’t many surprised faces, but as he goes on to list numbers, eyebrows begin to rise.

  “Last year, the police attended over 100,000 domestic violence incidents, and we know that eighty percent of incidents are not reported to the police, which puts the actual number of incidents at more than 500,000 per year. Thirteen women and ten men are killed on average each year through family violence, and a startling one in three women will experience physical and/or sexual violence from a partner during their life. Three-quarters of intimate-partner violence-related deaths are perpetrated by men, and a quarter are perpetrated by women. Violence happens across the board, and, as the campaign stat
es, It’s Not OK.”

  A few of the MPs are murmuring together, and the PM frowns. I know this issue is close to her heart, and that she wants to do more to help.

  “Further,” Leon continues, “in a study carried out by Women’s Refuge, of the women interviewed who’d left home because of family violence, fifty percent had witnessed animal cruelty as part of their experience of domestic violence.”

  The PM shakes her head, and I know she’s feeling the same shame and frustration as I am that our country is so poor at dealing with these obvious problems. Nothing can be solved overnight; there needs to be a targeted program for educating the population on drug and alcohol abuse, and on changing attitudes toward women and their role in society, as rates of domestic violence are much lower in countries like Sweden and Norway, who put a lot of effort into gender equality.

  Leon is serious while he discusses the issue of violence in the home, and I watch the reactions of the MPs, all of whom are obviously aware of the issue, but they still gasp at some of the figures, and when Leon states a couple of case studies, I even see a couple of the women with tears in their eyes, while the men all shake their heads.

  Once he’s made his point about the severity of the problem, he goes on to talk about our work at the Ark, and how we’re doing our best to educate the public alongside Women’s Refuge and the Ministry for Children. He talks about the Animal Welfare Team, the veterinary center, and then the new petting farm, explaining how we’re working with local schools to bring classes out to see the animals, so they understand from a young age how important it is to respect themselves, their fellow human beings, and the animals they come into contact with.

  He finishes with a slide I sneakily put in of his four dogs, and he laughs and glances at me, his eyes warm. “We all do our best to help out,” he tells the room, “and these are four of the dogs we’ve rescued who live with me now.”

  “What does your wife think of you having four dogs in the house?” one MP asks with amusement.

  “I’m not married yet,” Leon says. “I’m working on it.”

  There’s a ripple of laughter, and then he begins answering questions.

  His words linger with me, though. Was it just a throwaway comment, or did he mean it? And if he did mean it, to whom was he referring?

  It occurs to me that I haven’t asked him about the other women he’s dated. I presume he’s not involved with anyone right now because he kissed me in the hospital, and our conversation afterward suggested he was single. But I shouldn’t just presume. I make a mental note to ask him about it later.

  When all the questions have been asked, he gets a round of applause, and the PM comes over to thank him for coming. We both shake her hand again, and then we go down to the ground floor and head out of the building, into the sunshine. Wellington’s nickname is ‘the windy city,’ and it feels several degrees cooler than up in the bay, but today it’s bright and breezy, reflecting how I feel.

  We walk down the steps and stop by the neat lawn, and Leon turns to me with a smile. “Thank you for all your help with the presentation.”

  “It went marvelously,” I tell him. “You were amazing.”

  His smile spreads. “Thank you.”

  “You have a real talent for public speaking, Leon. You really moved everyone in there.”

  He shrugs. “I do what I can.”

  “Mr. Modest.” I want to hug him, but I know I can’t.

  Across from us, a man in jeans and a black jacket is leaning against a wall. I glance at him, and my heart leaps and bangs against my ribs. Seconds later, I see his face and realize I don’t know him after all. Jesus.

  I shiver in the cool breeze, and Leon frowns. “Have you brought a coat in your overnight bag?”

  We’ve left them in lockers at the airport because we didn’t want to lug them around the Beehive, and Leon had said we’d collect them later. But I haven’t packed a coat anyway.

  “No,” I tell him, “why?”

  He purses his lips. “Right. I’m taking you shopping. Come on.”

  “Leon!”

  “Where we’re going tonight, it’s going to be a lot colder than here.”

  I continue to protest, but he’s walking quickly, and in the end I almost have to run in my high heels to keep up with him. He heads to Lambton Quay, walks past some of the high-street clothes stores, and stops by a shop selling ‘travel and adventure outdoor clothing and equipment.’ Rather than being a cheap shop for students hiking around New Zealand, it looks as if it sells the sort of gear that posh people on holiday think they need when they have to walk fifty yards to the nearest tea room.

  “In here,” he says and goes in.

  I frown and follow him. This is an expensive store, somewhere I would never normally shop.

  “Leon…”

  He walks over to several racks of coats and jackets and rifles through them. I glance around the shop, not surprised to see the two assistants whispering as they watch him. He’s gorgeous in his dark-gray suit and blue silk tie. He looks as if he has money.

  One of them comes over with a smile. “Can I help you?”

  He picks up a thick padded jacket with fur around the hood. “What about this?” he asks me.

  My face warms, and I glance at the assistant. “Can you give us a minute, please?”

  “Of course,” she says easily, “just call if you need any help.”

  Once she’s walked off, I frown at him. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting a jacket,” he says, as if I’ve asked him a stupid question.

  “Leon…”

  “You don’t like it?” He puts it back on the rack. “What about this one?”

  “Leon! I can’t afford to shop here.” I’m embarrassed. I get paid in two days’ time, and I have approximately forty-two dollars left in my account to last me until then.

  He studies me, his expression unreadable. Then he says softly, “I wouldn’t bring you in here and expect you to pay. I’m buying it for you.”

  “You can’t do that!”

  “Think of it as a birthday present.”

  I open my mouth to reply, then pause at the look on his face.

  “I’ve booked somewhere nice for tonight,” he says, “because it’s your birthday and you were kind enough to give up the day to help me. And the presentation was amazing because of all the hard work you put into it. I want to say thank you, and I don’t want you to freeze your socks off this evening.”

  I scratch my nose. The first jacket he picked up was heavy and luxurious, and the fur around the hood had a touch of glitter in it. He knows me so well.

  His lips curve up. “Let me treat you. I don’t have a woman in my life at the moment and I like buying presents.”

  I give in. “All right.”

  He grins. “Try it on.”

  I slip on the jacket, feeling as if I’m being wrapped in a thick, warm blanket. “Ooh, it’s lovely.”

  “Perfect. What else did you bring with you for tonight?”

  I take the jacket off and hand it to him. “Um, well, I wasn’t sure where we’d be going, so I thought I’d wear my suit if we went out to dinner and just brought a change of shirt, and a pair of jeans and a sweater in case it was more casual.”

  “Shoes?”

  I look down at my four-inch black stilettos. He follows my gaze and stares at them for a moment before returning his gaze to mine.

  “I’ve always wondered how you manage to walk in those,” he says. “Lots of women have trouble with anything over a couple of inches.”

  “You’d be surprised how well I handle a few extra inches.”

  That makes him laugh. He runs his hand through his hair, giving me a look that says You’re incorrigible. “Well, they’re very nice, but they won’t do.” He walks over to the racks of shoes and boots and stops by a pair of red and black walking boots. “These are cool.”

  “Where are you taking me, Antarctica?”

  “Almost.” He grins at tha
t mysterious answer. “Come on, you need to keep your feet warm. Try them on.”

  Grumbling, I slip off my heels, borrow a pair of thick socks from the assistant, and pull on the boots. They fit like a glove. They’re also nearly three hundred dollars.

  “Holy fuck,” I say when I read the label.

  The assistant gives a short laugh, and Leon throws her a wry glance. “We’ll take them, and two pairs of the thick socks.”

  I take them off and watch him pay while I slip my heels back on. Where on earth are we going? I joked about Antarctica, but I doubt he’s going to fly us all the way to the South Pole.

  When he’s done, he leads me out of the shop, carrying my bag for me. “Fancy a coffee?”

  I nod, pleased at the thought of spending some time with him in a normal setting. He takes me across the road and around the corner, stopping outside a gorgeous little café called ChocoMad.

  “Ooh.” I follow him in, and we find a table by the window. I pick up the menu—nearly everything here has chocolate in it.

  “I thought it would appeal to you,” he says with a smile.

  “But you don’t have a sweet tooth.”

  He shrugs. “I’ll put up with it because it’s your birthday.”

  I wrinkle my nose at him, feeling delightfully spoiled. I know he’s not my boyfriend, but there’s something wonderful about being treated like this.

  When the waiter comes up, I order a mint hot chocolate and Leon orders an Americano, and I decide to try a couple of their mini desserts.

  As I wait for the waiter to bring them, Leon leans back in his chair, smiling as I open the bag and peer inside to examine our purchases.

  “So you enjoy buying presents,” I state, placing the bag beneath the table.

  “Doesn’t everyone?”

  “I have a feeling you enjoy it more than most. I bet you spoil your girlfriends rotten.”

  He gives a rueful smile. “I would if I had one. It’s been a while.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugs. “Not met anyone I’ve felt like dating.”