TheBillionairesPilot

by Suzanne Graham

  The Billionaire’s

  Pilot

  The Billionaire’s Pilot

  By Suzanne Graham

  The Billionaire’s Pilot

  Copyright © 2013 Suzanne Graham

  Copyeditor: Venus Cahill

  Cover artist: Fiona Jayde Media

  Published by Quality Book Services

  Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Print Release: January 2014

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

  ISBN: 1493630725

  ISBN-13: 978-1493630721

  To D.J. – I thank the gods every day for bringing you into my life.

  Chapter One

  Cassie Maynard tightened her seat belt and went through the helicopter’s pre-flight checklist a third time while swallowing her first-day-on-the-new-job jitters. With anger rising up from her gut, she looked at her watch yet again.

  Her copilot shook his grey-haired head. “You better get used to it,” Ron said. “We’re on his time. Whenever he shows up, that’s when we leave.”

  A gust of wind buffeted the helicopter waiting atop the Manhattan skyscraper, raising the hair on her arms. Spring was coming in like the proverbial lion this year. Another reason she was anxious to take off. Plus, it was hard to ignore eight years of military training. Sitting on this rooftop in the middle of a bull’s-eye like a target in a shooting range was winding her up.

  “My directions were to have him in the air forty-five minutes ago. There’s no way I can deliver him to Boston on time now.” Through her aviator sunglasses, she glared at the rooftop access door as if the force of her stare could make him appear.

  “We just do the best we can.” Ron folded back the next page of the newspaper in his lap then glanced at her. “Do you want to do the crossword puzzle while we wait?”

  Taking her eyes off the closed door, she faced him. “No, thank you.” Her words sounded more clipped than she’d intended. It was hard for her to shake off the brusqueness she’d learned in the Army. It was only under the hand of a Dom that she could truly relax and soften, but ever since her last failure, she’d made a permanent retreat from that world.

  Ron studied her for a moment. “This must be a big change for you from the regimented time of the military. Is this your first job in the civilian world?”

  “It’s my second, and my first boss never showed up more than fifteen minutes past scheduled departure time. Is this why my predecessor left the job? Did he run out of patience?” she asked, trying for a lighter tone with her words.

  Ron chuckled. “No, Jim retired after thirty years of flying for Mitchell Industries.”

  Cassie liked Ron’s laugh. He reminded her of her father, and also of her regret over their current estrangement. “How many years have you worked for him?” she asked, to keep her mind off of her personal issues.

  “For Evan Mitchell? Only since he became president after his father’s death five months ago, but I worked for Frank Mitchell for nearly twenty-five years.”

  She tapped her watch. “Was Frank habitually late too?”

  Shaking his head, Ron said, “Not really, but you gotta give the kid a break. He’s new to all this, and I don’t think he ever wanted any of it. But from what I’ve heard, he’s thrown himself headfirst into learning the business.”

  “Kid?” The image of a spoiled twelve-year-old brat flashed through her mind. She’d been so desperate to get this job after being unemployed for six months she hadn’t done much research before accepting the offer from Mitchell Industries, the parent company of many well-known household brands. “How old is he?”

  Ron refolded the newspaper and stowed it. “He’s thirty-one, but I’ve known him since he was seven or eight.”

  At thirty-one, he was four years older than Cassie, definitely not a kid. “What did he do before taking on the family business?”

  Ron grinned, deepening the creases in his sun-browned cheeks. “Quite a bit of a player, he was. Fast cars and even faster women.”

  Cassie groaned inwardly. Evan Mitchell sounded like a playboy, and Ron sounded like he admired that about him. She hoped this company wasn’t run by womanizers like her last employer.

  Maybe she’d be better off looking for a different job before she got herself in another awkward situation, but before she gave notice, she’d make sure she had a new position lined up. She couldn’t jump without a parachute this time, not with the financial trouble she’d gotten herself into.

  “Is Evan a lot like his father?” she asked, fishing for more information about her new boss and his company.

  “As a kid, Evan idolized his father, used to dress up in a suit and follow him around like a mini-me. But then in his teens, he went through the usual rebellion, which seemed to last all the way through his twenties.”

  Sounded a lot like her relationship with her father, though she chose not to see herself as a rebel, rather more like an independent thinker. “Did he reconcile with his father before he died?”

  Ron lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I don’t know.”

  “I hope they did,” she said quietly. She rubbed at the ache under her breastbone at the idea her father could run out of life before she reconciled with him.

  In front of her, the roof access door flew open, and two men carrying briefcases rushed towards the helicopter with their heads ducked. The shorter one with white hair was Dan Jacobs, the executive assistant who’d made the final decision about hiring Cassie. He ran with a slight hobble, but the taller, dark-haired man moved with the grace of a natural athlete. His long legs ate up the distance in a heartbeat.

  His black suit jacket spanned wide shoulders and tapered nicely at a narrow waist. With his eyes cast down, she couldn’t get a good look at his face, but his jaw line was sharply cut. He had the same hard look as the men she’d been surrounded with growing up as the daughter of a career Navy man, then during her years as an Army helicopter pilot.

  Evan Mitchell didn’t look anything like a soft, pampered rich boy, and she had to readjust the mental image she’d created before meeting him. Unfortunately, he had the kind of fit body that always revved her throttle.

  But she was here to do a job, she admonished herself firmly. She would not dabble in pleasure while working, and besides, she’d sworn off all men until she dug herself out of her giant hole of debt. From here on, she was going to keep those two aspects of her life separate with an earthquake-proof wall. Disguising her femininity in this masculine suit was sure to help keep her safely in non-dating territory. Not that she ever really dressed girly in the vanilla world. It was only as a sub that she’d ever let herself shed her protective outer shell, and that had ended badly, strengthening her resolve to thicken her shell.

  Her lack of feminine style was one of the points of contention between her and her traditional father. Their relationship was tangled, and now that she was back in the civilian world, she was going to have to make time to unravel it. She missed being close to him.

  Ron had jumped out of the helicopter to assist the two passengers. With the businessmen aboard, he got back in his seat and put his headset on.

  “Belts and doors latched,” he said into the microphone.

  From the seats behind her, she heard the low hum of the men’s voices, but without mikes, she couldn’t hear their words over the noise of the engine. She glanced
over her shoulder to confirm their conversation had nothing to do with any changes in their flight plan.

  The quick look was enough to give her a better picture of Evan Mitchell. Under the thick black slashes of his eyebrows, his dark eyes scowled as he spoke urgently with his assistant. Evan had the presence of a man who knew how to be in charge, and his intensity momentarily took Cassie’s breath away. For a brief second, she wondered whether or not he were a Dom.

  But she wasn’t going there.

  Rebar-reinforced concrete stood between her professional and personal lives now. She was not about to fall for any man’s Prince Charming act again, although Evan Mitchell certainly wasn’t trying too hard to win over his new pilot by making her wait for close to an hour.

  That was good. Remembering how irritated she was to be kept waiting would help keep her focused on work and not on his potentially complementary sexual identity.

  With her mental wall firmly in place, she turned her attention back to the helicopter controls, checking the fuel gauge and testing the clutch warning light. When she’d finished her last minute preparations, she glanced at Ron. “Ready for takeoff?”

  “Yes, Captain,” he replied.

  She raised the collective lever in her left hand and adjusted the yaw with her left foot on the pedal. As the helicopter lifted from the helipad, she enjoyed the lightness in her soul she still experienced with every takeoff, and she ignored the longing in her gut reminding her this was the closest she’d ever get to experiencing subspace since she’d walked away from the lifestyle.

  * * * *

  Hating that he’d been delayed in order to deal with a supply problem at one of the manufacturing plants, Evan Mitchell dashed across the rooftop-landing pad. He jumped onboard the company helicopter with Dan Jacobs, his father’s long-time assistant, at his side. When the company fell on Evan’s head after his father’s sudden, fatal heart attack, Evan had been grateful for the older man’s knowledge of the inner workings of the business. Evan hated feeling out of control, and having his family business thrust on him was immeasurably worse than any oil slick he’d ever hit on the racetrack.

  As they buckled into their seats, Dan gave Evan a disapproving look. Unfortunately, along with his valuable knowledge, the man also came with a truckload of these censorious glares.

  “What is it now, Dan?” Evan asked, leaning close and speaking loudly to be heard over the helicopter engine.

  “While you were finishing your call with Fletcher, I took a call from Miss Linders.”

  Evan fought the urge to roll his eyes. If he hadn’t needed to appear at this upcoming schmooze-and-deal weekend with a lady on his arm, he would have ended his relationship with Vivian Linders weeks ago. But with the hours he was putting in at the company trying to get a handle on its complexity, he barely had time to take her to dinner once a week, let alone find a suitable replacement for her. So, he’d been forced to bear her growing demands.

  “How much will it cost me this time?” he asked Dan.

  The older man cleared his throat. “I’m afraid it is going to cost you your date for the weekend.”

  “What are you talking about?” he asked, wishing his assistant would get to the point.

  “Miss Linders called to express her deepest regrets. Though, I must say she sounded a bit too bubbly to be truly remorseful.”

  “What did Vivian say?” Evan threw some of his Dom firmness into his tone, hoping his assistant would get more succinct.

  Unruffled, Dan spoke in his well-modulated voice. “Apparently, a former beau has shown up in her life and proposed. She will not be joining you in San Miguel, nor will she be accepting any future dates with you.”

  “She dumped me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Cursing under his breath, Evan pulled out his cell phone. “I can not show up alone. Xavier made it very clear that this was to be a couple’s event…as if that’s going to buffer the business side of this weekend.”

  He searched his mental Rolodex of ex-girlfriends. There had to be one willing to accompany him as a friend on an island weekend getaway. He would have to make it clear that even though they were going to pretend to be a couple; he really wasn’t in the market for a relationship. He simply didn’t have time to accommodate a woman in his life. The rare times he did get a free evening he’d rather spend it at the club than cultivating a vanilla relationship for the benefit of the image of the company.

  “I’ll call Pamela Hardricks.” He decided. “She took our breakup well. You can send the helicopter back to pick her up after you drop me at Nippon Securities.” He searched his contact list for her number.

  Shaking his head, Dan laid his hand over Evan’s phone. “Not a good idea.”

  “Why not?” Evan attempted to pull his phone free, his irritation rising.

  Dan held firm. “Pamela’s father is also gunning for Xavier’s business.”

  Evan stopped resisting. “Since when?”

  “Since you broke up with Pamela.” Dan dropped his hand.

  “But she seemed okay to me afterwards.”

  “The best saboteurs have good poker faces,” Dan said dryly.

  Evan bit back another curse and scanned his contact list again. He was down to his last few names. “What about Ashley Walsh?”

  “Another bad idea,” was all Dan said.

  Evan waited a beat, but when Dan didn’t look like he was going to continue, Evan was forced to ask, “Are you going to tell me why?”

  “Miss Walsh is currently vacationing in St. Lucia with another man.”

  “Damn. How do you know so much about my ex-girlfriends?”

  Dan straightened his cuffs under his suit jacket. “It’s my job to ensure this company runs smoothly.”

  “I thought that was my job.” Evan could hear the petulance in his own voice and berated himself for acting like a bratty sub. It was just so damn exasperating to be the person in charge of this massive corporation and feel so out of control. There was too much he still didn’t know about the details of his father’s enterprise.

  “Yes, sir. I’m just here to help you,” Dan replied mildly.

  Evan cast his assistant a doubtful look. Obviously, he hadn’t earned the older man’s confidence yet, and that prickled at Evan’s inner Dom, who required respect and trust from his subordinates. “What about someone in Boston, since you seem to know everyone? We’ll arrange a last minute date with her tonight after my meeting at Nippon. Then I’ll invite her for the weekend in San Miguel.”

  “Let me check.” For an old guy, Dan flicked pretty damn quickly through his smartphone contact list. After a few moments, he looked up. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t have any names in Boston suitable for a date tonight or this weekend.”

  Evan released an annoyed breath. “Mitchell Industries has no business acquaintances in Boston with a legal-aged daughter?”

  Dan glanced at his list again. “No, sir.”

  “What about a female employee from Mitchell Industries? Preferably single,” he added, not wanting this weekend to turn into fodder for the gossip rags.

  Dan shook his head. “The Boston office is small. I’ve known the receptionist for thirty years. She’s a grandmother of three and the only female employee.”

  “Come on, Dan. We’ve got to have someone.” Evan ran a hand through his too-long hair—a cut being another thing he’d been too busy to deal with this month. It tended to curl when it got to this length, making him feel more like a kid than the professional businessman he was striving to be. His whole fucking life felt like it had become unmanageable lately. He really needed to spend some time in the club and get back to his center.

  Dan inclined his head toward the company’s helicopter pilot. “We’ve got her.”

  “Who?” Evan narrowed his eyes on the person flying.

  For the first time, he realized the new pilot was female. Under her bulky headset, her brown hair was secured at the base of her skull in a tight knot. Nearly half her face was co
vered in large aviator sunglasses, and she was dressed in a boxy-cut, dark suit. It was no wonder he hadn’t seen her as a woman. Except for a lack of grey hair and a much smaller frame, she looked almost identical to the co-pilot, a man who had worked for Mitchell Industries since Evan was a boy.

  He leaned forward in his seat to get a better look, but it wasn’t reassuring. From what he could see, she wasn’t wearing any makeup or jewelry. She looked like a plain Jane, and her white dress shirt hung nearly straight down the front of her chest. If she had breasts, they had to be small. She would never be able to keep up a strapless evening gown.

  Groaning, he sat back in his seat. “That will never work. No one will believe we’re a couple.”

  Dan shook his head reprovingly. “Never judge by first look. I’ve interviewed our pilot personally. She has the smarts to pull off any kind of charade.”

  “But if she looks like a boy while doing it, it isn’t going to help me. You know Xavier’s moral sensibilities would be offended by any hint of repressed homosexuality.” Evan swallowed a smirk as he considered Xavier’s potential reaction were he to find out about Evan’s true sexual preferences. The religious conservative Spaniard would probably spend the rest of his days praying for Evan’s soul if he knew of Evan’s appetite for sexual dominance—an appetite that hadn’t been satisfied for too long.

  Dan stared at the pilot for a moment. Then he turned to Evan. “She has assets we can work with. I’ll call ahead and make arrangements for a stylist.” He pushed buttons on his phone.

  “You better find one that can work miracles,” Evan grumbled.

  Closing his eyes, he leaned back against the headrest, wishing he’d had time to stop at the club for a short scene last night to take some of the edge off, instead of studying every bit of information Dan had put under his nose.

  Letting the drone of the helicopter overcome his senses for a brief respite from the responsibilities of running a multi-billion dollar conglomerate, Evan pretended he was back on the racetrack and the engine noises he heard were coming from his prized car, but trying to block out his rising anxiety about his upcoming meeting with Xavier in San Miguel was futile.