by Ami Snow
When it was done, I pulled away, gathering my clothes. I watched her stand up, legs still shaky, putting herself back together. She straightened, and faced me. I couldn’t think of anything to say.
“Goodbye, Ethan,” she said finally.
“Wait!” I called out. “Elizabeth, I…I want you to come work here. After graduation. Not as my assistant…in accounting. I think you have done a great job, and I want you to come back here.”
She looked at me for a long moment, and then she shook her head. “I can’t work here, Ethan. And you know why.” She looked pointedly at the spot where a moment before, I’d had her up against the wall, my cock buried in her. “Thank you for the opportunity. Goodbye, Mr. Sharpe.”
And with that, she turned and left, the door shutting firmly behind her, leaving me standing in my office.
I knew I had to do something. But what?
End of book 3
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Royal’s Confession
An Alpha Billionaire Series: Book 4
By: A.J Madiso
The Royal’s Confession
Chapter 1
Ellie
The morning of graduation was bright and sunny, with a clear blue sky, the kind of day that everyone had been hoping for. It meant graduating out on the football field, instead of crammed into the musty auditorium.
It was the exact opposite of how I felt.
If I opened my email right now, I knew I would see no less than half a dozen job offers from accounting firms and banks. Chicago, Boston, New York, San Francisco. Nothing from Washington D.C. I thought I had resigned myself to the idea that I probably wouldn’t end up there, but it seemed that I hadn’t, really.
It had been three very long months since I had left and come back to school. In that time, I hadn’t heard one word from Ethan since that afternoon when I had walked out of his office. Not a text, a phone call, or an email. It was as if he’d forgotten about me entirely, the cover of our story shut and closed without another thought on his part.
It hadn’t been that easy for me. I’d thought about him for days, itched to call him, and talked myself out of it over and over again. I’d driven myself half-crazy over it. I’d dreamed about him, mostly about us together, the night in my room, the afternoon on his desk. I’d woken from those dreams disheveled and aching, wanting to buy a ticket straight back to D.C. and tell him that I’d been wrong. I didn’t.
I had, on the other hand, heard from Brian. He’d sent me a sweet message the day after I came back, asking if the trip had gone alright and if I had gotten settled. I’d let him know that I had, and not much more. He’d texted me a few more times, asking how the job search was going, and if I’d heard back from any of the firms in D.C. He didn’t ask about us, or our fledgling relationship—if that’s what it was—or mention the night we’d spent at his apartment just talking until we fell asleep, or any of the nights that had followed it, both talking and not. It was as if both of the men I had been involved with had forgotten that we had been involved at all.
Or maybe they had just been flings. Maybe I had made too much out of all of it, and I should be putting it all behind me and moving on.
I hadn’t answered any of the job offers. I knew that I would need to soon. I would need to decide which city was going to be mine, where my new, adult life would start. I would need to decide it without any lingering thoughts of Brian or Ethan, without disappointment that I wouldn’t be going to the city that I had thought I would be living in. Life didn’t always work the way that you planned, right? There were always curveballs and unexpected plans. Maybe moving to one of those cities would turn out to be the best decision I had ever made. I couldn’t possibly know for sure.
I turned away from the window, digging in my closet for a pair of flats to wear with the plain black dress I’d chosen to wear under my graduation gown. I’d staunchly refused to buy a new dress or even entertain the idea of shopping for one. It was just a day. One that I would get through, receive my hard-earned piece of paper, have lunch with my family, and come back to my dorm room to sit and make one of the biggest decisions I would ever make. All I really wanted was for the day to be over.
As I sat in my row of seats, waiting for my name to be called, absentmindedly scanning the bleachers for my family, I thought for a flash of a second that I saw Ethan’s face in the crowd. I knew I must be imagining things. It made no sense for him to be there. I hadn’t even heard from him. There was absolutely no scenario in which him being at my graduation ceremony made sense. And yet, in that moment when I’d thought I’d seen his face, my heart had leapt up just a little. It was foolish. But it had happened.
I made it through the ceremony, making it up the steps and shaking the dean’s hand, my rolled-up faux diploma in mine. By the time the ceremony was completely over and I’d made it out to the central fountain to take pictures with my family, I’d almost forgotten about thinking that I’d seen Ethan.
Which made coming face to face with him all that much more of a shock.
Ethan
That morning, I’d stood in my hotel room, putting on my suit, and wondered if this had all been a mistake.
I knew that an emailed offer of a job wouldn’t do it. If she’d turned down my offer the first time—although admittedly, I had chosen very poor timing—she was certain to do it again if I only sent it through the typical channels. If I showed up in person, I’d thought, that would show how very much I wanted her at the firm, not just as someone I couldn’t stop thinking about romantically, but as an employee. It would show that I valued her enough to make a professional, in-person offer, I’d thought.
Now, on the day, I felt foolish. Stalker-ish, even. Her family would be there. She might be embarrassed at my presence. She might even be angry.
I briefly considered backing out, heading back to D.C. She’d never know the difference. I could save myself from what was likely to be a very embarrassing situation.
I knew I would never forgive myself if I did, though. I’d always wonder if my gesture might have meant she’d come back. For good this time.
So I finished putting on my suit, called a driver, and headed over to the giant collegiate football field that was hosting Elizabeth’s college graduation. I sat among the bleachers, feeling out of place among the proud parents and bored siblings and screaming friends, and scanned the rows for Elizabeth’s face. I saw her, in one of the back rows, staring straight ahead, her face impassive.
I wanted her to look up and see me. I also wanted to remain entirely hidden from view. My heart beat faster with an anxiety that I hadn’t felt in a very long time, and somewhere in the back of my head, I was entirely aware of how ridiculous this all was.
I saw her look up, and a flash of recognition cross her face, followed by disbelief. She shook her head and looked away, and I felt suddenly elated. She might have thought she was imagining things, but that meant she was thinking of me. I suddenly felt more hopeful about her chances.
The ceremony went by in a blur. All I could think about was what I would say to her once I finally caught up with her afterwards. As everyone started to file out, I tried to keep track of where she was going as I made my way through the crowd.
I finally saw her outside, in front of the fountain, her family starting to crowd around her. I took a deep breath
. It was now or never.
I walked up to her, registering her shocked expression as she saw me, the series of emotions that flashed over her face. “Elizabeth,” I said. “I’ve come to offer you a job.”
She stared at me. Her parents looked confused, and I quickly held out my hand, professionalism taking over. “I’m Ethan Sharpe,” I introduced myself. “I’m the CEO of the company where Elizabeth interned this past semester, and I was very impressed with her performance.”
“Oh, how very kind of you!” her mother exclaimed. “Elizabeth, isn’t that wonderful?”
Elizabeth was giving me a very black look from where she stood beside her mother. Impressed with my performance? Her eyes seemed to be asking. Impressed with which performance, exactly?
I ignored her. “She was a very valuable asset to our company,” I continued, trying valiantly not to think of her personal assets, “and her absence has definitely been noticed these last few months.” I looked directly at her, then. “Elizabeth, I would like very much for you to come back to work for me.”
She looked at me. “Can we talk privately?”
I inclined my head. “Of course.”
We stepped away from her family, and hearing distance of her friends, and I had a feeling that this was going to go poorly.
Elizabeth stopped me finally, her hand lightly on my arm. Not too personal. “You know why I’m not coming back to work for you, Ethan. All that about needing me at the firm isn’t going to fool me.”
I sighed, exasperated. “Elizabeth, I’m being honest with you. You were an excellent employee, a fast learner, and a hard worker. I want to give you a job.”
“Do you want an employee, or someone you can fuck on your desk in the middle of the workday?” she hissed.
I frowned. “Are they mutually exclusive?”
Now she looked exasperated. “Yes, I think so.”
I sighed. “I don’t know, Elizabeth. Can’t you just come back and we can see how things go? I don’t really want to have to choose.”
“And if I decide I don’t want anything more than a job from you? What prevents you from firing me, and making sure I don’t get a job anywhere else in D.C.? What prevents you from making me start all over again somewhere new? I’ve heard the horror stories of women who have affairs with their bosses. It’s me that’s at the disadvantage here. No matter what, you have your company. I could be out of a job.”
“Elizabeth, I wouldn’t do that to you.’
“Words,” she hissed. “Those are words, and men say them all the time. I need something concrete. My career is too important to potentially throw away on words.”
I felt hurt, but I tried not to show it. I tried to think rationally. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll put in your employment contract that I cannot personally fire you. If you were to be terminated, it would have to be from a direct supervisor. I will also put that we promise you a letter of recommendation to the firm or firms of your choice if you are terminated or leave for any reason other than criminal activity. Would that suffice?”
Elizabeth was quiet for a long moment. “Yes,” she finally said. “That will work. Draw up the contract and send it to me, and I will sign it. I’ll need a week to move and an allowance for travel and moving expenses.”
“Done. The firm will provide an allowance for clothing as well.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she protested, but I cut her off with a smirk. “Actually, Elizabeth, that’s something we do for all employees who join us directly out of college. It’s meant to help them in their transition.”
She had the grace to look a little embarrassed. “Well, thank you,” she said, and I smiled. “I’m looking forward to seeing you at work, Elizabeth. Since I’m sure you wouldn’t welcome me at dinner, I’ll say goodbye now.”
She did look embarrassed now. “If you want to come to lunch with my family, Ethan, you’re very welcome.”
I shook my head. “I actually am meeting some clients. I thought this trip should serve more than one purpose. I’ll see you in a week.”
I left her then, nodding to her parents as I strode across the grassy lawn to where my driver was waiting. I felt jubilant. It hadn’t been a waste of a trip after all. She was coming back to work. It wasn’t a guarantee of anything, but it was a start.
Chapter 2
Ellie
So that was how, a week later, I found myself standing in the center of a studio apartment in D.C., a pile of boxes stacked all around me. My parents had just left, after a whirlwind trip to IKEA and setting the items up, which resulted in a faux-iron frame bed along one wall, an overstuffed chair, a desk and chair, a tall wardrobe and a small two-person table with two sets of dishes and two chairs. A bookcase stood on one wall as well.
I was very lucky. I’d offered to use some of the moving stipend to pay for my new furniture, but my parents had insisted that I let them take care of it. I’d even picked out a new down-alternative duvet and cover, and my mother had insisted on buying me some good pillows at Macy’s. “How can you possibly do well at your new job if you don’t get a good night’s sleep?” she’d asked.
It wasn’t the luxuriously appointed loft we’d sublet over the course of the internship, and my new spring mattress wasn’t a Temperpedic. But it was my place, all mine, and I felt a warm sense of accomplishment at having gotten this far. A small voice in the back of my head reminded me that I’d been sleeping with the man who’d given me the job to make this move possible, but I squashed it down, reminding myself of the six job offers I’d turned down. I’d earned all those offers on my own merit. I’d simply opted to take the one that would put me in the city where I wanted to be.
The day before I’d left, I’d gone on a shopping trip with my girlfriends, using my clothing allowance to purchase a new work wardrobe. That was currently lying across my bed in garment bags, waiting to be hung up. I grabbed a knife and slit open the first box, pulling out books and beginning to line them up on shelves. I glanced at my phone occasionally, wondering if I would get a text from Ethan.
As it turns out, I did. It was exactly 10:05 p.m., and I was debating the merits of a bath in my (pitifully small) bathtub or going straight to bed in preparation for the coming workday when my phone chimed. I picked it up, trying to ignore the rapid beat of my heart. It was from Ethan.
Elizabeth, did you get settled alright?
I paused for a moment before typing back: Yes, I did. Thank you. My parents helped me get set up.
His response was quick. What kind of apartment?
A nice little studio, I answered. I left off the address.
I could have negotiated a better salary so you could get at least a one-bedroom.
The entry-level salary is perfectly acceptable, I answered. I had, in fact, negotiated, as any modern girl would, and ended up with five thousand more per year and three more vacation days than the average entry-level employee. I had negotiated all this through my direct supervisor in accounting, without involving Ethan at all. I was sure he would have started me off with a six-figure salary if I’d allowed it, which while nice in theory, would have been both unprofessional and made me the most hated employee there if anyone found out. Strictly speaking, salaries shouldn’t be discussed, I knew…but things had a way of getting out. Even so, I was sure my stint as an actual employee before had helped in my negotiations. I just couldn’t get away from his helping me. It irritated me, and then I felt guilty for being irritated. I was sure many women would love to have a little extra push forward in the business world.
I wanted to ask you something.
I rolled my eyes. What? I typed back.
You asked me if I wanted an employee, or, well…you know what you said. I do want an employee, and I think I do want more from you…but not just that. I want the chance to figure it out. Would you allow me to take you on a real date next Friday night? I’ll pick you up.
I blinked at the screen. A real date? He wanted more than just to fuck me on his desk? I felt my heart
speed up. This was much more seductive than the moves he’d pulled on me in his office. This was what I had been secretly wishing for all along when I’d been here, that he’d want more than just a fling. This was what I had knew I shouldn’t encourage. And yet here it was, and I wanted very badly to say yes.
My phone chimed again. Say yes, Elizabeth. Please. One date.
And if it doesn’t go well? I typed back, knowing full well it would go just fine. He was funny and charming and we enjoyed each other’s company.
Then you will be an employee, and nothing more. One date. And if it does go well?
I smirked. It was just like him to try to extract the promise of a second date before I’d even agreed to the first. One date at a time, I typed back.
So that’s a maybe to the second date?
I laughed out loud at that. He was so persistent! Yes to the first, I finally responded. And maybe to the second.
Good. I’ll pick you up Friday night at seven.
Sounds perfect, I typed back, and then set my phone down on the cold tile floor. I needed to use some of that moving allowance to buy a couple rugs, I thought.
A date. A real date. I couldn’t believe I was allowing it, and yet I felt elated. This was a new start, wasn’t it? I abruptly thought of Brian, and felt instantly guilty. I hadn’t even thought of texting him since I’d gotten into town. Was that an answer in itself? That I should let Brian go and concentrate on the potential of a relationship with Ethan? Maybe that was what I should do.