The Executive Boss (Billionaire Boss Book 2)

by J. A. Pierre

  “But you know as well as I do that your actions will be frowned upon by many in the firm. I’m not some hotshot lawyer like you, I’m a paralegal.” She sighed. “But I want things to work between the two of us also.”

  Milan smiled. He walked closer to her and ran a hand down her arm. “I was beginning to think you were wishy-washy.”

  "Well, since we're being frank, I don't like paralegal work.”

  “Isn’t it a stepping stone for you?”

  Saharan nodded. “I’ve stuck around because I do enjoy being around you.”

  “I’m glad I make your job just a wee bit easier.” Milan moved to hug her. He held her close. “Hmmm.” Her breasts felt good against his chest and his manhood began to respond.

  She exhaled.

  “I am a bit weary of your dad finding out about us.” It was a confession he hadn’t intended to make.

  “Do you think I should move to another lawyer? I’ve seen a few paralegals rotate.”

  “Yeah, but us lawyers stick to the good ones like glue.” He let her go. “But I get it. Would it make you feel more comfortable?”

  “I know it seems I’m too interested in how things look, but I think it will be for the best. We can see each other outside of work.” She smiled slightly. “And you wouldn’t have to worry about my dad. He’s not as scary as people make him out to be.”

  “You’re his daughter.”

  “I’m his only daughter, and I think he trusts my judgment.”

  Milan’s brows knotted as he thought it over. “I’ll have everything organized by the time you come to the office in the morning.”

  Saharan nodded.

  “That’s my girl.”

  Milan’s stomach rumbled.

  “What time is it?” Saharan checked the large round clock on her living room wall. “Lunch already.”

  “You want to go get something to eat?”

  She smiled. “Of course.”

  Milan took his car keys out of his pocket. “Let’s go.”

  “I’ll have to change.” She moved toward her bedroom, then suddenly turned around. “Better yet.” Saharan walked toward the phone. “How about we get take-out?”

  “Okay. Anything you want.”

  “Because I’ll like us to eat here,” she smiled naughtily, “and have each other for dessert afterward.”

  “Things are looking up already.” Milan glanced down at his pants.

  “Well then, let me make the call.”

  “Wait.”

  “I just can’t hold it back,” he said, suddenly walking toward her.

  He wrapped her in his arms and they kissed. It was hot and steamy the way his tongue explored her mouth.

  She’d never been kissed the way he kissed her. Saharan began to melt in his arms.

  Milan kissed her like he wanted to know her. Like he wanted to have the effect he was having on her right then. She wanted to beg for more.

  He undressed her slowly, but left on her panties. Milan’s eyes were intense and dark as he looked at her. “To the bedroom,” he commanded.

  She did as she was told, and he followed her.

  When she turned around, he was down to his boxers.

  “You’re so swift.”

  “Only at undressing, darling.”

  She went to him and he stripped her naked. He propped her up on top of the desk in her bedroom and took off the last fragment of his own clothing.

  “I want you.”

  Saharan smiled. She felt excitement bubbling in the pit of her stomach.

  Milan put on a condom and then began to kiss her all over. His body heat felt so good to Saharan. She closed her eyes, enjoying his touch.

  She rubbed his back and smiled.

  Milan’s body was rock hard; his physique would be the envy of many. She felt lucky to have a close-up view of it. His shoulders were strong, his chest muscular, his stomach flat.

  Saharan looked down to examine his package more closely. She swallowed. He was larger than she’d expected. He’d definitely be a workout. She sighed with both pleasure and anticipation.

  Suddenly, Milan moved away. His hands went to either side of her hips and he pulled her off his desk. “Turn around.”

  Saharan complied.

  He was right behind her, entering her from behind.

  She held her breath, then slowly released the air through her mouth. “You feel so…” She couldn’t continue.

  One of Milan’s hands held onto her shoulder while the other held onto her hip.

  He moved in a deep rhythm, back and forth, and Saharan became lost in ecstasy. She threw her head back and moaned loudly.

  I can’t get enough. This is my boss, she reminded herself. The novelty of it made her wetter.

  She felt stimulated and aroused both physically and mentally. Her stomach began to tingle. “Shit.” She turned her head to the side and Milan kissed her on the neck.

  “I’m going to…I’m going to…”

  Saharan exploded faster than she thought she would. She felt relaxed and tired all at the same time as her body began to unfurl from its high.

  Milan picked up the tempo. His building thrusts made Saharan straighten her back. She felt his body begin to twitch and a low growl erupted from his throat.

  He kissed her back, which was drenched with sweat. “This is only the beginning,” he promised.

  Saharan smiled. She liked the sound of that.

  He watched her call and order Italian food. Saharan paused between giving her order as she listened to the person on the other end of the phone. Then he saw her smile the biggest he’d seen. “The order’s for two.” Their eyes met then, and Milan smiled back.

  “Round two,” she mouthed.

  He nodded.

  She hadn’t been in his plans for the summer, but here he was in the middle of a day. He had no intention of returning to work. Everyone else could wait. Maybe that was what falling in love felt like. It made you do the unexpected to be with someone.

  It made you take a chance at opening your heart.

  Thanks for reading book 2 in my Billionaire Boss series! I’ve included a bonus for my readers to show you how much I appreciate your support. I’m including Forever With Me, book one in a two-book bundle. I hope you keep reading!

  Forever With Me

  Chapter One

  Wearing black Prada pumps and a sleeveless mauve dress, I leaned against a tree trunk and watched my cousin dance with her new husband. We had grown up across the dirt track from one another, picked sour cherries in June, and stolen fresh eggs from her neighbor’s chicken coop when we thought no one was looking.

  We even fought over the same boy when we were in the fourth grade. But by the time I’d reached high school, my focus turned away from boys and toward my books. Acing my classes, I got a scholarship offer to Hampton University in Virginia. When I left for college, my mom cried at the small airport while I hugged my two sisters goodbye and told my brother, Mike, to hold down the fort since he was the oldest sibling living at home.

  I’d first returned to attend my uncle’s funeral. I usually made my way to Trinidad once a year, though I thought it was time for me to broaden my horizons, spend money seeing other parts of the world. But it seemed like I had stayed away too long and my family missed me, so the day after Christmas, Boxing Day, I went to yet another wedding as the holiday season continued.

  This was the sixth family wedding my black pumps and I had attended, three of them for my younger siblings.

  By the time my second sister had walked down the aisle, and my mom and aunts asked me if my boyfriend of three years had popped the question, I was over weddings. Still, here I was again, Prada and I, with a cute designer dress.

  Sometimes life doesn’t go as planned.

  My four-year plan abroad had turned into seven when I went for a master’s degree in public policy. When my supervisor at the internship I’d had for two summers asked if I wanted a Research Analyst II position that was available, I j
umped at the chance to work at a top consulting firm. Seven years living away from Trinidad turned into ten, then twenty.

  ~

  The reception hall was decorated in shades of pink and white, and the flirty bridesmaids, uniformed in beautiful pink dresses and matching up-dos, mingled effortlessly with guests who welcomed the light and happy mood the wedding offered. The DJ put on Al Green’s “Let’s Get Married,” and my cousin turned away from her husband to swing her hips seductively. I looked at the happy couple, at their love.

  “Augustine, do you want your last name to be ‘Allen’ forever?” Mom had asked me earlier that morning as we sat at the table eating oatmeal sprinkled with raisins and chopped walnuts.

  My hair had still been set in pink rollers, making me feel it was too early for heavy conversation. “No,” I said. Since we were on the subject of names, I wasn’t too crazy about my first one, either.

  I’d come to believe that men liked women with feminine names, that a girly name was an added checkmark when a man met a woman. Maybe I would’ve been married by now if I’d had a different name, a better name. I mean, what kind of name is Augustine? Named after a month? August-ine.

  Couldn’t it have been something more feminine? A Britney, a Rachel, a Samantha? No, not a Samantha, because then I’d be called Sam. Like, “Hey, there’s my buddy, Sam,” which would be followed by a friendly noogie. Maybe a Michelle.

  “I told you before. There is no Mr. Perfect,” Mom continued. “Are you Ms. Perfect?” She had scooped a spoonful of lumpy oatmeal and held it midair.

  “I don’t believe anyone’s perfect.”

  “Well, then.” Mom swallowed the oatmeal and smiled.

  Still, I secretly held on to the belief that there was someone perfect for me. I shifted my throbbing feet and contemplated walking to the other side of the tree trunk so that I could lean against my right shoulder instead. The moon was high in the sky, but the night was young, and guests joined the newlyweds on the dance floor. The mild tropical air filtered in from the open double doors. The breeze felt good, but I was tired of being alone outside. I went back into the school gymnasium and took a seat at the table where I’d eaten dinner. I rested my elbows on the yellow tablecloth and tapped my feet to the music.

  “Good, you’re ready to dance, which means that you have to tell me ‘yes’,” a man said.

  I glanced up at him. “Uhmm.”

  “I’m Troy,” he said, extending his hand.

  My manners kicked in and I made steady eye contact. “Augustine,” I replied, reaching out for the handshake.

  “Lovely to meet you.” Troy bowed his tall cocoa frame, and I saw the thinning spot on the back of his head when he looked down at my feet. “Nice heels.”

  “Thanks.” I smiled and scanned the dance floor before accepting his invitation.

  With a soft touch on my upper arm, Troy led me to a vacant area on the floor, and then placed a hand on my hip and his palm on my back. We moved to the rhythm and smiled at one another. It had been two months since a man had touched me. That man had been my boyfriend, until I broke up with him after another broken date due to his work obligations.

  I was tired of his avoidance of my marriage talk and “the constant pressure” I put on him. I knew I wanted to be with someone again, but I didn’t know when.

  Troy was a good dancer. I saw his shoulders at eye level, and I looked up at him whenever he spoke.

  “I’ve known Mike for years and I knew he had three sisters, but I’ve never run across you in Trinidad.”

  “How did you know Mike was my brother?”

  “All of you have Pam’s button nose,” Troy replied. “And you sat beside your mother during dinner.”

  “Okay. Well, I don’t always stay for two whole weeks. Once I was here for only four days.”

  “Four days?” Troy pulled back a second. “Is being back home that bad?”

  “It’s just that in America, you can’t get days off so easily, and my work schedule is hectic. I know a month’s vacation is the norm in Trinidad—must be nice.”

  Troy laughed. He wore a navy blue suit and a striped light blue tie that matched my eye shadow. I was happy that I’d joined Equinox after my breakup and lost twelve pounds, instead of sitting on the couch with Haagen-Dazs. The size-six dress was a treat, and though I had crammed in my hair appointment the day before my flight, I now thanked the good Lord for my wet and wavy weave.

  I wondered aloud where Mike, my best friend Orlando, and my sisters were. I scanned the room for Orlando. At six foot two with a lean physique and tanned skin; it would be easy for me to spot the white guy among the chocolate in the room.

  Troy pointed to a group in a dimly lit corner, where some of my family members and a few friends stood talking. Then I stepped on his shoes and he put on a fake grimace. “You’re a good dancer,” I confessed. He spun me around and dipped me, making me laugh.

  “That’s the spirit,” Troy said. “Are you here for a while longer?”

  “Seven more days.”

  “That’s it?” He leaned back. “Well, I’d like to take you out, if that’s not being too bold. I know we’re meeting in the middle of your trip, but we can still get to know each other.”

  I examined his features more closely then: thinning hair, nice physique, cocoa skin, groomed beard, and a slightly large chin. Did it work? Yes. I was attracted to him and he seemed nice enough. Plus, I liked the attention. “Okay,” I said, and we set a date for two o’clock the next afternoon.

  Chapter Two

  In the car ride home after the reception, I sat in the back while Mom sat up front with Mike, who drove. His wife was still at the reception. Mom had never gotten her license; she’d relied on my dad to drive her everywhere until he left one day, when I was twelve. The first few days she told us that he was working overtime. Then she said he was on a business trip. When a month passed and we continued to ask about him, she told us he was gone. She was tired of making excuses for him. Then she was silent; her thoughts about our dad cloaked.

  She managed to get around the island by calling one of our relatives or by taking a taxi.

  I listened as Mike and Mom talked about who’d crashed the reception, drinking up the premium liquor; how gorgeous my cousin looked in her flowing white dress; where the newlyweds would be going for their honeymoon; how our family sure had some good- looking people; and when would I be sharing those genes with a child.

  “My firstborn child—I’m waiting for some grandbabies,” Mom said.

  She already had two grandbabies, Mike informed her, and Roxanne had one on the way.

  “Yes, but she’s the youngest,” Mom replied. “I want Augustine to settle down and have kids too.”

  “Augustine has always been about her career,” Mike said. He was the family member who knew the most about my life due to our monthly phone chats.

  Mom shook her head. “I find that when people are all about getting an education and their careers, they make no time to love someone.”

  “Hmm.” Mike turned onto McHenry Lane, Mom’s street. “I did see her talking to a friend of mine tonight. Troy asked you out?” Mike glanced at me in the rearview mirror. His hairline showed specks of gray.

  “Yes,” I replied. “So what do you think about him?”

  Mike grinned. “Troy, he’s a good guy. Single. A hard worker.”

  “Does he have any kids?”

  “He has a daughter; she’s a student at the university in St. Augustine.”

  “Okay,” I said, sighing. “Is there any man around my age without children?”

  Mike and Mom glanced at each other, and then Mom let me know that Troy was probably closer to fifty than forty, and that most single men I met at this age were probably also divorced. “No children and never married. What percentage of men would fall into that category at that age?” Mom made a zero sign with her hand.

  “The good ones get plucked up by thirty,” Mike said.

  “I thought Troy was m
uch younger,” I said. If he was older than I thought, he looked even better for his age. I looked out the window, rallying myself to stay positive. I didn’t want Mom to make me feel too bad. Most of my friends were married in their early thirties.

  Mike pulled up in front of the house. In many ways the neighborhood looked the same as when I’d left, except the road had been paved. At our house, the grass was as neatly trimmed as when I was growing up. The pathway to the front door was a straight and short walk from Mike’s car. The mint green paint had retained its unique color. And despite the heavy green curtains that shaded the windows, the faint dim of the hallway light could be seen. I got out first.

  “I didn’t mean anything by bringing up that kind of talk, Augustine.” Mike stuck his wiry neck out the window. “I was only telling you how it is here. Good men are like gold nuggets”

  “Sure,” I replied, annoyed, suddenly thinking of McDonald’s. I’d learned to ignore my family’s comments by thinking of random things.

  I’d also decide for myself what I thought about Troy, instead of listening to my brother vouch for him. After all, Mike was the one who had a wife, two children and, according to Roxanne, a girlfriend who worked in the HR division at his company. I couldn’t leave it up to him to tell me anything about a good man.

  Chapter Three

  Troy called at noon. He’d changed his mind about our date. Instead of going for a drive around the island, we would go to Almond Beach. “You live in D.C. How often do you get to just chill-out on a white sandy beach?”

  I was ready when a car horn honked in front of the house.

  I wore an orange sundress. Underneath was a black bikini that I’d ordered online from Nordstrom. I’d picked up orange jelly sandals from a local store that sold shirts with slogans like “East and West, Trini’s the Best” and “This is Life in Trinidad,” with a cartoon of a man in a hammock holding a piña colada in his hand.

  I opened the front door and Troy waltzed toward me wearing a big smile, blue shorts, and a white T-shirt. Blue must be his favorite color, I thought. He greeted me with a quick hug, offered to take my beach bag, and led me to his car. Three kids ran in a cluster on the sidewalk, one barefoot, her slippers thrown on top of the grass. Their laughter came through in bursts, as one tried reaching for the others as they played tag.