The Executive Boss (Billionaire Boss Book 2)

by J. A. Pierre

  It kept the shine on his father’s namesake.

  He swivelled his chair to the side and looked out of the window, hyperaware of Saharan's presence. When he turned back to her, she’d stopped cold in the middle of the floor. He saw that she felt dismissed by his sudden inattention.

  Milan straightened himself in his chair. His penis hardened and his eyes grew dark looking at the beautiful woman. He was glad he was sitting down. He smiled. “Good morning.”

  Saharan took several quick, sharp steps over to his desk and stretched out her hand. Milan stood up and they introduced themselves.

  “Milan Hudson,” he said with a wide smile as they shook hands. She bit her bottom lip.

  She wants me. The subtle gesture was like a drop of blood in the water to a shark like Milan.

  He guessed that they were about a decade apart in age. She took a seat in the plush leather chair.

  “It's nice to meet you,” she said and looked down bashfully. Her eyes were deep brown and as he leaned forward he smelled vanilla and something citrusy. Milan was a stickler for a woman who smelled nice.

  Too often a perfume was either non-existent on a woman’s skin or overpowering. Not this one. If he was a man who used a checklist, the woman in front of him would have already received several ticks.

  “Tell me about yourself.” It was a question he always asked newbies. He could tell a lot from the way they answered. He gave her a smouldering look; the look of a man wanting to conquer.

  Hold yourself back, buddy. He knew he was sending the wrong signals.

  She spoke about her academic achievements and work experience — nothing personal.

  As she talked, Milan sat trying to decide whether he wanted to go ahead with his plans to seduce her, or if he should exercise professional restraint.

  He already knew he’d enjoy himself tremendously. And perhaps she’d enjoy spending some time under him more if he were to switch things up outside the office...Milan caught himself. He knew better than to let himself drift like that. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he had.

  It wouldn’t be the first time he’d had an affair with someone from the office, but after his last episode a year ago, he definitely had to think it through.

  She smiled. Milan refocused, concentrating on what she was saying.

  His penis throbbed.

  Go for it. She didn’t seem like a covert psycho like his last conquest. She appeared to be smart and hard-working.

  “Is there anything or anyone that has helped shape your career so far?” It was a question that always provided some personnel insight―it was enough for him to know what type of work he would give the paralegal assigned to him for the summer. If he or she worked out, they’d continue into the fall, otherwise he’d move on until a replacement came.

  “Well, my dad is a judge.”

  Milan clenched his jaw and picked up the pencil on his desk.

  Judge?

  As she spoke, the pieces of the puzzle came together in his mind. Her last name was Williams. Judge Williams was her father.

  Shit.

  He’d just been featured in Washingtonian magazine for being a fair judge with a strong track record. Milan felt sucker punched. Here he’d been getting his hopes up and his bed ready, and Saharan was none other than his friend’s daughter.

  He sighed. It was like a hammer had just ploughed into his stomach. Sleeping with the daughter of Judge Williams was too risky. The last thing Milan wanted was to be ostracized within the legal community.

  He’d witnessed a few examples of men getting the cold shoulder for stepping on the wrong person’s toes—friends no longer returned calls, country clubs closed their doors, restaurants were suddenly fully booked.

  After she’d finished singing her father's praises, Milan moved on.

  “Well, I have some research I would like you to start on today. You’ll give me everything you can find on a client’s husband's steel production business. Highlight the important stuff and dig around more if something sticks out.”

  She nodded.

  “I'll catch up with you later to see how you’re getting on.”

  He stood and she followed. Despite his need, he had to resist.

  They walked side by side toward the door. Her body called to him; Milan felt pure lust. Saharan was a matchbox and he was a matchstick, ready to ignite her world.

  Still, he couldn’t…could he?

  No.

  If her father ever found out, his career could be ruined. The judge had more power in Washington than he did. As much as Milan wanted to act on his desires, he would have to resist.

  He couldn’t let anything happen.

  Chapter Four

  Saharan made her presentation to Milan.

  He was keen to find out what she wanted to gain from the work experience. Milan always did this with paralegals, as he had an interest in their expectations.

  Some of the other partners and a few associates thought Milan’s process was unnecessary. “Work has to get done and they’re required to do it,” a colleague had once told him.

  But Milan liked to play to his staff’s strengths. And if he could give them work that they enjoyed, the long days and sometimes monotonous assignments wouldn’t seem so bad. He knew that providing some interesting work would make things run smoother.

  Now, he listened to Saharan and watched her closely. Her charcoal-colored hair fell loosely over her shoulders. Her smooth cinnamon skin begged to be touched. Milan was having thoughts about her that he shouldn’t.

  She shifted in her heels.

  He sat, admiring the way the peach hued dress clung to Saharan’s breasts and hips. She cleared her throat and he pulled his eyes away from her body toward her face.

  Saharan blushed, but Milan didn’t try to hide his attraction to her.

  I can admire from far, he told himself. Still…he was tempted to act on his admiration.

  She began talking again, but stumbled over her words. “Ye..yes…that’s what I think being a paralegal is about.”

  Milan wasn’t sure how Saharan had begun the sentence. She looked downright flushed when their eyes met again.

  He wondered if she also wanted more than a professional relationship. Saharan stood there and he finally realized that the presentation was over.

  "I still remember what you said to me yesterday when I asked for some coffee.”

  Saharan tilted her chin. She suddenly looked confident and assured. He'd told her that he needed some coffee and she’d replied that she would tell Jeanette right away.

  Her response had caught him off guard. Milan had been on his phone, and as he held it to his ear, the speaker’s voice was lost to him as he watched Saharan leave his office. Another paralegal would’ve been happy to get his coffee. Saharan had definitely read through the employee handbook and knew the code of conduct and duties relevant to one’s position.

  Now he couldn’t help but smile. "I'll make sure that I give you some assignments that will appeal to your interests.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “No problem.”

  She stood waiting, and Milan found it interesting that she never made any attempts to make small talk with him. But though she was relatively quiet, her eyes spoke to him.

  He glanced down. There were other matters to deal with, and a few calls to make on behalf of a new client. “Jeanette has some files I’ll like you to go through, so you can collect them from her.”

  She gave a nod. “Sure.”

  Milan watched Saharan walk away. Her ass was round and firm and slappable. She closed the door behind her, but still, his eyes looked in her direction.

  ***

  Her first week of work went by quickly.

  It was a hot Friday evening and Saharan loitered around her parent’s kitchen looking for ingredients to make a sandwich. The small family was a close bunch and Saharan made sure to visit them at least once a week.

  It was on her bucket list to learn how to cook. S
he wanted to eat more than spaghetti and meatballs, frozen microwave dinners, and take-out.

  As she spread mayo on two slices of rye bread, Saharan wondered about her mother and brother upstairs. Her father was still at work.

  The adoption agency had given Lamont his birth mother’s contact information. They would meet that evening over dinner. Though Lamont’s car was no longer in the shop, Tammy insisted that she drive him, as he she didn’t want him alone.

  "I told him, ‘at least let me introduce you to her,’ and then I would go wait in the car," she’d told Saharan on the phone earlier that day.

  Saharan sat at the kitchen table and took a big bite of her turkey and pepper jack cheese sandwich. A handful of Ripples potato chips lay on her plate next to a glass of fruit punch.

  They came into the kitchen a few minutes later. First Lamont, then Tammy.

  “Are you ready?” Tammy asked.

  Saharan couldn’t imagine what Tammy thought, but she was proud that her mother tried to show support.

  Tammy took her keys off the hook on the wall.

  Lamont exhaled audibly. “Yep.”

  “Everything’s set, so you better be,” Tammy said softly. “Let's go.”

  Lamont smiled at her and Tammy opened the door. After he’d walked through it, she turned back to Saharan and arched an eyebrow. Worry showed on her face, but then she followed her son.

  ***

  Milan had invited Saharan to accompany him to the lunchtime business meeting.

  It was at a fancy French restaurant known for its power lunches. La Francis served farm to table food and boasted some of the best chefs in the north.

  Milan saw Saharan’s eyes open wide when they pulled up in front of the elegant restaurant. A valet immediately walked toward the black Sedan.

  “Lunch is on the client,” he said, leaning toward her. “Eat what you want.” He winked. She was so new…so fresh to the scene. It was clear to him that she was like a fish out of water.

  He felt protective of his new paralegal. At the same time he wanted to search every inch of her delectable body with his tongue. He wouldn’t mind a cuddle afterward either. Milan smirked, amused with his own thoughts.

  He opened the door as the valet reached the window.

  They were ushered to the reserved table.

  “I was expecting two,” the waiter said.

  Milan frowned. “Plans change,” he said gruffly.

  The waiter looked at him and quickly stepped forward. “Sorry, I’m new.”

  Milan shrugged off the waiter’s bad manners.

  Claire sashayed in shortly after. She sat down with a tense smile. “I see you’ve brought company.” She looked at Saharan sourly.

  At least hide your distaste. Truth be told, Milan had brought Saharan to lunch for two reasons. The first was that he didn’t want to be alone with Claire. The second, he wanted an excuse to meet with the paralegal outside of the office.

  They talked business. The conversation was relatively light, as confidential matters didn’t need to be discussed. Milan coached Claire on the upcoming meeting they would have with her husband, Brent, and his lawyer.

  “Monday’s show time.” He slapped a hand on the table. “Wear something nice, not too sexy. And let me do the talking. You’ll be set for years if you spend your money sensibly.”

  “That’s great,” Claire said. Her body was angled toward Milan. In fact, she acted like she had barely registered Saharan’s presence.

  But now she turned toward her. “As a woman, let me give you one piece of advice. If you marry a wealthy man—never sign a prenup.”

  She sipped her glass of wine and looked downright proud.

  They talked as they ate chocolate mousse for dessert. Claire had insisted that everyone at the table “try my favorite dessert.”

  Milan was about ready to end the lunch when he saw a man approach their table; it was Claire’s husband.

  “Well, look who the cat dragged in. I hope you’re enjoying spending my money.”

  For a moment Claire looked caught off guard, but she quickly regained her composure and smiled. “Well, yes I am.”

  Brent narrowed his eyes. “Everything isn’t set in stone you know. I can always play hard ball some more.”

  Milan decided it was a good time to step in. He wondered if Claire had known Brent would show up at the restaurant. Maybe she’d wanted Brent to see her having lunch alone with him.

  "There’s no need to get testy.” Milan forced a smile. His face was so handsome that he still managed to look sincere.

  Brent scowled and watched him from head to toe. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you get a chance to bed my darling wife. If she can sink so low as to sleep with my best friend, why not her lawyer?”

  This was news to Milan and his eyes widened.

  Brent sneered then and turned to Claire. “I guess there’s a man alive who has faith in you. Your lawyer doesn’t know the real Claire.

  And I don’t want to know. Milan stood, wanting to get the situation over with as soon as possible. “I’ll have to ask you to leave our table.”

  Brent looked at Milan with repugnance. “Leave for what? This is a free country.”

  “I see you’re a man who likes to reason.” Milan’s face grew stony. “Listen, I don’t want a scene,” he lowered his voice so that Brent had to strain to hear. “But there’s a lot at stake for you in this divorce. And even though I’m not your lawyer, I’d advise you to leave before you cause irrefutable damages.”

  Milan saw that Brent had no clue what he was talking about. He hadn’t threatened him, he’d just hinted that he could go after more of the man’s wealth.

  Brent turned around, and then left their table without a word. Milan looked behind him to see Brent join a table with a group of businessmen.

  Milan nodded at Saharan. “I think it’s time for us to go.”

  Claire began to stand.

  “I’ll be in touch,” he said firmly. There was no way he was going to sit and finish dessert.

  “Come on,” he said to Saharan

  She stood and Milan saw the anxiousness in her face. He felt compelled to reach out to her and stroke her arm, but instead he kept his hand to himself.

  Chapter Five

  Lamont was calling.

  Saharan stopped the treadmill and took the ear buds out of her ear. It was 6:03 a.m. and she’d only been running for half an hour. Though she no longer played competitive tennis, exercise was part her daily routine.

  She pressed the pause button on her IPod in case it turned out to be a long conversation.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi, sis. Good morning.”

  “Morning, Lamont.”

  “Sorry for calling you so early in the morning, but I need a favor.”

  “What is it?”

  “Can I borrow two hundred dollars until I get paid?”

  Saharan frowned. “Boy, that’s not a favor. You should hear your voice. No problem.”

  He sighed. “Thanks. I just went over budget and need some cash until payday.”

  “Okay.”

  “Should I stop by your apartment or are you passing by the house on your way to work?”

  “I’ll pass by. It’s a quick stop before I continue east to work anyway.”

  “Well, later―.”

  “By the way.” Saharan wanted to ask Lamont about meeting his birth mom away from Tammy. “How was your meeting with your birth mom?”

  He chuckled. “Oh, it was cool. She’s a nice woman. We got along great.”

  “Okay.”

  “I have her number and everything, and she said that I can call her whenever.”

  “Okay.” Saharan raised her eyebrows. It was a lot to absorb. “What’s her name?”

  “Miranda.” Lamon paused. “She’s married and has a kid.”

  “Really?” Saharan turned off the treadmill completely.

  “Yeah. She works in the deli section at one of the Safeways in Alexandria.
”

  Saharan hesitated before asking her next question. “So how do you feel after meeting her?” Lamont wasn't the most expressive person. Saharan wasn’t sure if it was a man thing, because their father was the same way, or if it was just the men in her family.

  “I feel like I’ve been let in through a door to the past. But you know, I love my parents and I love having you as a big sister.” He laughed. “Mom’s car was parked and I saw her watching Miranda and I at the restaurant.”

  “You’ll sat by the window?”

  “Yeah. She was parked for like five minutes and then she was gone. She said afterwards that she just drove across the parking lot to Target. You wouldn’t believe how much shit she got, Saharan. I helped her unload the trunk and backseat.”

  Saharan laughed. “I can only imagine.”

  ***

  The lunch meeting was another indicator to Saharan that becoming a lawyer may not have been the right profession for her. As the month wrapped up, the long hours and intensive research became exhausting.

  Still, she would complete the firm's summer program. She was determined to stick it out despite the long hours, if only to see Milan. Even if it remained a boss and employee situation, she yearned to be around the man.

  It was almost 7:00 p.m..

  Saharan walked around the copy room in her white Keds. She’d started changing out of her heels when 5 p.m. hit. In fact, it was Milan who’d encouraged her to do it so she’d be more comfortable.

  “You want to maintain those great legs,” he’d said. “Heel pain’s a bummer.”

  It’d been the second time he’d complimented her. But he always made his flattery seem so nonchalant that Saharan didn’t want to read too much into it.

  She took the last copied file back to Milan’s office, handed it to him, and sat. They were finished with work for that evening.

  “We’ll continue this tomorrow,” he said.

  Four boxes of Chinese food lay on Milan’s desk, hot after just being delivered. Saharan didn’t tell him she loved Chinese food. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk about herself, but Milan had not given her a sliver of personal information, and she followed suit.