Boss's Virgin - A Standalone Romance (An Office Billionaire Boss Romance)

by Claire Adams

  “I’m probably the only person in the world who’s inherited this much money and then been puked on.”

  “It wasn’t you, it was your purse.” She looked at it disdainfully. “You should really just throw it away.”

  “I don’t want to throw it away. It didn’t get on the inside at least. I cleaned off the outside the best I could and I’ve been airing it out on the air vent over there. I think it should be fine.”

  “Well, it still smells like barf. You should get rid of it and buy a new one. It’s not like you can’t afford it!”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “I’d still let it air out some more, then, before you try to use it. Come on, let’s get out of here. I’m starving.”

  “Let me just put my wallet in your purse then.”

  “Breakfast can be on me,” Sophie said. “I’m sure you’ll be taking me out to a restaurant or two at some point in the near future.” She grinned, and I followed her out the door.

  17.

  Levi

  I opened my eyes to find myself lying on the couch, a puddle of drool by my mouth, my back aching, head pounding. I slowly pushed myself up to sitting, felt the room lurch, my stomach contract, but nothing came up because—

  Oh, because I had puked all over Isla’s purse. Had it gotten on her, too? I couldn’t remember.

  I winced, trying to block the memory. What, was it amateur hour over here? I’d never puked like that before. I got up off the couch and surveyed the scene. The bottle of scotch sat, open, on the coffee table. I looked around for the cap but couldn’t find it, though it couldn’t have gotten far. The smell wafting from the bottle made me feel like I was going to puke again, so I picked it up and carried it out to the kitchen and poured the rest of it down the drain.

  I went over and looked in the fridge. Now that I was up and moving around, I was starting to feel a little better, though what still felt questionable was my stomach, since I couldn’t remember when I’d eaten last. There was very little that looked appetizing—hummus, plain yogurt, orange juice, several types of cheese, olives. Perfect if I wanted to throw together some sort of ghetto antipasto plate, which I didn’t. What I needed was pancakes or a Belgian waffle—something to soak up all this stomach acid that I hoped wouldn’t try to make an exit up my esophagus again.

  I leaned over the kitchen sink and splashed some cold water on my face. I changed my shirt and started to brush my teeth, but that made me start to gag, so I left.

  Outside it was actually a rather pleasant day. No humidity, warm sun, a few puffy clouds drifting lazily along. Actually, the sun was a little too bright, so I backtracked and got my sunglasses.

  “That was quick!” the doorman, Hank, said when he saw me coming back.

  “Forgot my sunglasses,” I said.

  “It is bright out here today. I keep expecting your father to walk out at any moment.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I know. Me too. It’s kind of strange that he won’t be.”

  After I retrieved my sunglasses, I went back out, bid Hank a good day, and started to walk. Even though the sunglasses just covered a small percentage of my body, with them on, I felt as though I were protected by a shield, and that it didn’t matter what looks people threw my way, I was immune to all of it.

  I was walking toward Midtown, with the idea that I’d find a place to eat and then head over to Isla’s hotel. I couldn’t recall exactly how it went yesterday after I’d finished puking, but she’d definitely left, and I was sure wasn’t too happy about it. Had I said something to her before she’d left? Had I at least offered to get up and clean her purse off? There was just a big blank spot when I tried to dredge up any potential memory of what had happened. Clearly, I wasn’t supposed to drink. I’d done loads more drugs and never had an entire section of memory completely gone like this. That just wasn’t right.

  I heard someone calling my name, from behind me. I thought I could just keep walking and pretend that I hadn’t heard, but then there was the clippety-clop sound of high heels running on the pavement, and getting closer. I turned. It was Ella Carlisle. Her father was Frank Carlisle, one of my dad’s biggest clients. I knew that much about BCM; the Carlisles were one of the first clients and one of the biggest. Ella and I had a no-strings-attached sort of relationship that we’d never actually talked about; it had always been a silent agreement that whenever we were in the same city, we’d hook up. It had been that way since I’d been seventeen.

  And, unlike myself, Ella had used her trust fund to start her own fashion line. She’d done modeling as a teenager but preferred to be the brains behind it, not the one strutting the catwalk. She was wearing a daffodil-yellow romper with turquoise pumps, her long, honey-brown hair flowing down over her shoulders. No makeup, of course, but still stunning.

  “I thought that was you,” she said, catching up to me. She gave me a hug and kissed me; I turned my face at the last second and she ended up kissing my cheek. I kissed her cheek in return, to make it look as though I had planned it.

  “I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it to your father’s funeral,” she said. “I had a big show in Paris that I couldn’t just—”

  “No need to apologize,” I said. “Dad wouldn’t have wanted you to miss something work-related for his funeral.”

  “I know. That’s what my father said. But still, I would’ve liked to be there. How are you doing?”

  “Eh.” I shrugged. “You know. It was definitely a surprise. I just kind of assumed that Dad would be around forever. Well, if not forever then a lot longer, at least.”

  We started walking again; Ella slipped her arm through mine.

  “Dad said you’re essentially the owner of BCM now.”

  “That’s what I’ve been told.”

  “That’s a big responsibility.”

  “I know.”

  “We don’t have to talk about that now, if you don’t want to. I’m just glad I ran into you. I was going to give you a call later today, actually. I’m here until Tuesday, and then I’ve got to get back to Paris for a couple days. Then I’ll have some time off. Do you want to plan on going somewhere? Just get away for a little while?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “Maybe. I don’t know. I’m feeling a little . . . I don’t know. Not sure what I’m supposed to do. I’ve got to give Cal a call later, though, and I’m sure he’ll tell me.”

  Ella smiled. “Good old Cal. Well, you can think about it. I’d even be down for going to Ibiza with you, if you wanted.”

  I had to smile at that. Ella thought Ibiza was overplayed, a cliché, really. She preferred the sorts of places that the rest of the world didn’t know about. She’d probably have me traipsing about some remote mountain land in Tibet or something.

  My stomach rumbled. I needed to find some place to eat. As we walked, I started to pay attention to the places we passed. Deli, bagels, bistro, Italian, French, no. I looked about twenty feet ahead, to a place called Lilac, and saw her sitting there at one of the outside tables.

  Isla.

  She was with another girl who I didn’t recognize at first. Isla saw me and glanced down quickly, hoping that I hadn’t noticed her and would just walk on past. Her eyes flickered over to Ella and then back to me. I stopped walking, and Ella did, too.

  “Hey, listen,” I said to Ella, “it was really good to see you, and we’ll make plans to catch up, but I’m meeting up with someone at Lilac.” I hadn’t actually made any plans with Isla, but I took it as a sign from the universe that it was meant to be. One thing I knew for sure, though, was that Isla wouldn’t be too psyched to see Ella.

  “Oh, okay.” She sounded a little surprised. I was, too, a little; in the past, I’d always made time for Ella. Her gaze followed mine and she saw Isla sitting there, trying not to look our direction. “Levi,” she said. “Is that Isla? Your stepsister?”

  “Yeah.” I held my hand up and gave a little wave. Isla stared intently at her plate.

  Ella smiled. “She l
ooks thrilled to see you. She’s changed quite a bit from when I last saw her.”

  “She has. I’m surprised you recognized her at all.”

  “Well, I’d at least like to say hello. Then I’ll skedaddle.”

  Ella started walking toward them before I could stop her.

  18.

  Isla

  I was in the middle of telling Sophie that maybe the plan to seduce Levi wasn’t such a good idea when all of a sudden, there he was. Like he had just appeared out of thin air.

  Of course, walking next to him was a tall, gorgeous woman I recognized immediately. Ella. His girlfriend who wasn’t really his girlfriend.

  “Oh my fucking god,” I said, ducking my head.

  “What?” Sophie asked.

  “It’s Levi.”

  “Where?”

  “Right behind you. Don’t turn around—”

  But it was too late. She turned, and then turned back. “What the fuck is he doing here? And who is that giraffe with him?”

  My eyes widened. “Shut up!” I hissed. “They’re coming over here.”

  For a fleeting second, I hoped that they were just going to walk right by, that they hadn’t actually noticed us, despite Levi having just waved to me moments ago. I’d only been around Ella a few times when my mom and Alex had still been together, but a few times had been more than enough. She was one of those women who was just so stunningly gorgeous that you couldn’t help but stare at her and try to figure out just how she managed to pull it off.

  And here she was now, ten feet away and closing the distance with those long-legged strides of hers, a big smile on her face.

  “Isla!” she said, coming over like we were long lost sisters or something. “I almost didn’t recognize you! You look great.” She leaned down to give me a half hug; I started to get up to hug her back but ended up awkwardly half-standing as her arm went around me.

  “Hi, Ella,” I said as she pulled away. I sat back down.

  “Oh hey,” Levi said. He looked at Ella, then at me. “Sorry I’m late. I am in serious need of some food.” And he sat down like we had made plans with him or something.

  His gaze went to Sophie. “Hey,” he said. “You’re Sophie, right? How are you?”

  Sophie gave him a cold look. “What—are you stalking us or something?” she asked.

  I felt my face flush. “Sophie,” I said. I took a big sip of my mimosa.

  “No, this was pre-stalking,” Levi said, trying to make a joke. Sophie stared at him stonily. I still couldn’t look at him. “I was planning to get something to eat and then maybe stop by your hotel, Isla. I wanted to apologize.” He sat down before either of us could say anything.

  I looked at Ella. “You can sit, too,” I said, even though I didn’t really want to sit with her. Was I just being immature? Should I be adult enough now to be able to sit next to someone who I found completely intimidating?

  “Thanks,” Ella said. “I wasn’t sure if you’d mind or not. I’ll just get a latte, though; I already had breakfast.”

  Great. Was it too late to cancel my order of eggs benedict?

  “We actually do mind,” Sophie said.

  “She’s just kidding,” I said loudly. “Ella, this is my best friend, Sophie. Sophie, this is Ella, she’s one of Levi’s . . . friends.” Still to this day, I wasn’t sure what exactly they were. I knew they weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend back when we were teenagers, but they were certainly more than just friends. I snuck a glance at Levi, who was stretched back in the chair, looking completely at ease. Our waitress hurried over when she saw him.

  “I think I’m going to have to go with the pancakes,” he said. “I was thinking Belgian waffle on the way over, but now pancakes sound good.”

  The waitress looked at him eagerly. “Did you want the blueberry buttermilk pancakes, or the banana walnut?”

  “Hmm.” He looked at the three of us as though expecting our input. “I guess I’ll have the blueberry buttermilk.”

  The waitress grinned. “Excellent choice. Those are my favorite.”

  Sophie oogled her eyes at me, trying to bite back her laughter. Ella ordered her latte, and the waitress left, though not before giving Levi another flustered, shit-eating grin.

  “Are girls just constantly falling all over themselves when you’re around?” Sophie asked him, an accusing note in her voice.

  “Huh?” he said, as if he had no idea what she was talking about. But maybe he didn’t. Maybe for people like him and Ella, they were just so used to it that it seemed normal. Maybe they thought that was how people actually acted, not just to them, but all the time.

  Ella nudged him with her elbow. “You should’ve ordered a coffee, too,” she said. “You look like you need it!”

  She laughed, and then I started to laugh too, because it seemed like she was trying to make a joke, even though it wasn’t really that funny.

  “He had a rough day yesterday,” Sophie said.

  “I know.” Ella nodded and squeezed his hand. “I’ve only been to a few funerals, but they’ve all been incredibly difficult.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about,” Sophie said. I tried to kick her under the table but ended up kicking Levi.

  “We playing footsies?” he asked, an amused smile flickering across his face.

  I flushed and looked down. “That wasn’t me,” I said.

  “What are you talking about then?” Ella said.

  “Oh, I’m talking about the fact that he threw up all over Isla’s purse.”

  Instead of looking completely mortified, as I would have, Levi just looked mildly chagrinned. “Uh, yeah,” he said. “About that . . .”

  Ella laughed. “Oh, Levi, you didn’t,” she said. “Let me guess—you were drinking scotch. This very thing happened the last time you tried to drink scotch. You know you can’t handle your liquor.” She gave me and Sophie a conspiratorial look. “He can handle all sorts of other things, but he and alcohol just don’t seem to mix.”

  “Hey, hey, now, we don’t need to go spilling all of my secrets,” Levi said. “And to be fair, I didn’t have anything to eat beforehand and no, I’m not really that big of a drinker. So it was a bit of a shock to the system.”

  “Ah,” Ella said. “I love a good scotch.” She looked at me. “Did you have some?”

  “No,” I said. “I didn’t.”

  The whole situation felt completely surreal. You’d have thought I’d be used to surrealness at this point, but this was probably stranger than finding out I’d inherited money, then running into Levi again, then being back in the penthouse, him barfing on my bag. I felt like Sophie and I were spectators, watching Levi and Ella out on a date.

  Things didn’t get much better when our food came. The eggs benedict was saturated in a thick, creamy Hollandaise sauce that was probably no less than two thousand calories. It looked delicious, but I wasn’t hungry, especially not with Ella right next to me, delicately sipping a latte out of a cup that was big enough to be a soup bowl.

  Sophie had gotten stuffed French toast with a side of bacon, and she started eating, almost in defiance of Ella. The plate of pancakes the waitress brought out for Levi though, was the most impressive: four fluffy pancakes the size of Frisbees, stacked atop each other, butter dripping down the sides. He still had his sunglasses on but I could imagine his eyes lighting up as the waitress slid the plate in front of him, her arm brushing against his shoulder as she drew it back and straightened up.

  “Well, you have just made my day,” he said, reaching for the maple syrup.

  The waitress couldn’t hide her grin. “Can I get you anything else?” she asked him.

  “I think I’m good for now,” he said. She lingered a moment but then left, not bothering to ask anyone else if they needed anything. Levi got to work drowning the pancakes in syrup and then he picked up his fork and happily dug in.

  “I see your appetite hasn’t changed any,” Ella said, sipping her drink as she watched him eat. So
phie crunched loudly on a piece of bacon. I took my time cutting up the eggs benedict, the runny, bright yellow yolk exploding out from under the knife.

  Levi was too focused on eating to be able to hold any conversation, so Ella turned to me.

  “So,” she said. “How have you been? It’s probably been almost a decade since I last saw you.”

  I wasn’t sure if she knew that Alex had left me money or not. It seemed like something Levi would’ve told her, but maybe he didn’t. Ella, I knew, had found success as a fashion designer; I knew this because I had happened to pick up an issue of Vogue the last time I’d been sitting in the waiting room at my OB-GYN’s, and there was her picture. It was a small picture, and just a quick blurb, but there she was. My stomach had tightened and I was overcome with an urge to look her up online, but I didn’t. She’d never been mean to me; she’d just viewed me as someone who didn’t travel in the same social circles as she did.

  “She’s doing great,” Sophie said, before I could respond. “She’s just come into a considerable sum of money, in fact.”

  “Oh?” Ella glanced at Levi, who was still eating.

  “Yes. It’s really just me who’s the only plebeian sitting here, so you can wipe that self-satisfied smirk off your face.”

  My jaw dropped, though probably I shouldn’t have been surprised. Sophie was never one who was afraid to speak her mind. And she had never been star-struck, never had any crushes on celebrities when we were younger, had a major dislike for people who thought they were better than others just because they were good-looking or had money.

  “Sophie!” I said.

  But Ella looked unfazed. She took one more sip of her latte and then set it down on the table. “I should get going,” she said. She stood up, then reached across the table to brush her fingertips across Levi’s shoulder. She had to reach in front of Sophie to do so, and she took her time straightening back up.