Sleeping With My Boss: A Standalone Novel (An Alpha Billionaire Romance Love Story) (A Dirty Office Romance)

by Adams,Claire

  "Very nice, you've learned well," I smiled.

  "Thank you," she replied as she turned to pick up the tray and moved toward the door. "Will there be anything else?"

  I held her gaze for a long moment, she had soft eyes and there was a gentleness about her that made me want to stand up and pull her into my arms.

  "Austin?" she said quietly breaking through the beginning of my daydream.

  "Yes? Oh, sorry, I was thinking about...something," I quickly covered as I looked down at the table.

  "Can I bring you anything else?" she repeated her question.

  "No, I think I'm good," I replied before I looked back up at her and added, "For now."

  She smiled as she blushed again and then backed out of the pod saying, "If you need anything, just press the call button and I'll be right here to get it for you."

  "Oh, don't worry, Emily," I said. "I won't hesitate."

  Chapter Seventeen

  Emily

  "I think he's flirting with me," I hissed at Trish as she walked back into the galley with an irritated look on her face. "What's wrong?"

  "Oh, nothing that a little knee to the groin won't fix," Trish whispered as she rolled her eyes. "Mr. Grabby Hands is getting drunk and telling me his life story while he tries to make a play for me. Ugh."

  "Oh ugh," I sympathized. Drunk passengers were always a nightmare to have to deal with on a flight, but at least in first class, we could keep them isolated from the other, non-drunk passengers and keep the damage to a minimum. The downside was that flight attendants often had to deal with the drunks on their own in the privacy of the pods. "Do you want me to come with you next time you go over?"

  "Nah, he's going to learn really quickly that I don't put up with drunken little boys who try and sell sob stories about their miserable marriages," she smiled.

  Trish was an expert at dealing with these guys. She was one of the few women I knew who could tell a man to go to hell and have him actually thanking her for the opportunity. I called her a magician, but she said it was just the result of growing up in a household full of drunk men who were always grabbing at the women. Self preservation was high on her list of priorities and she didn't have a lot of patience for the gospel of female self-sacrifice or solicitousness. She did understand, though, that good customer service was the basis for her continued employment, so she learned to give them the rope with which they'd eventually hang themselves. I, for one, enjoyed watching.

  "Now, what were you saying when I came in with my tale of woe?" she asked as she mixed another martini and rinsed out the teapot the Brits had finished with.

  "I think he's flirting with me," I whispered.

  "Who, boss man?" she whispered back.

  "Yes, him," I said as I tipped my head toward his seat.

  "So? Go for it!" she urged me.

  "Trish, get serious, I'm married," I said as I held up the hand on which I wore my wedding ring. "Oh crap."

  "What?" she looked genuinely confused.

  "I'm not wearing it!" I hissed. I'd forgotten to put my rings on before I'd left the house. I knew Tommy would be pissed as hell if he noticed them sitting on the dresser – or worse, the kitchen windowsill where I'd set them when I'd done dishes the night before.

  "Smooth move, Princess," Trish grinned.

  "It wasn't on purpose!" I protested. "And second, Ms. Smarty Pants, he's my boss."

  "So? Lots of women have passionate affairs with their bosses," she shrugged. "Why not you? I mean, it's not like you're happy being married to a drunken idiot who fails to hold up his end of the deal, are you?"

  "Trish, that's not fair," I said. "Tommy is depressed because he lost his shot to play pro ball. I'm not going to abandon him just because he's having a rough time."

  "Oh God, you should hear yourself," she said rolling her eyes. "Seriously, how long are you going to tell yourself that lovely little lie? Tom was injured, yes, but he's had two years to pick his sorry ass up of the ground and do something else. Why not join the league as a pitching coach? Or get a teaching degree and coach high school? Hell, why not do anything other than work a 40-hour job as ground crew and then go home and get stinking drunk every night?"

  "That's unfair," I mumbled.

  "No, it's not unfair, Princess," Trish was stubborn when she felt strongly about something. "Life is not fair, but you know what? You pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start over again. You don't sit down in the corner and wait for your wife to kiss your boo-boo and make it all better. What a jackass."

  I turned and looked at her. Her eyes were flashing and there were red spots on each of her cheeks. I'd never seen her quite this worked up before and with a worried look on my face, I backed up a bit to give her some room. She saw my fear and immediately turned soft, placing a hand on my shoulder as she spoke.

  "Look, Princess," she began. "I'm not saying that you need to kick him to the curb simply because things got tough. I'm just saying that for as long as I've known you, things have not been good between you two. And now that you're moving up in the world, you might need to reconsider whether you want to be married to your high school boyfriend who seems locked into the role of fifteen-year-old child."

  I nodded as I felt the tears begin to well up for the second time that morning.

  "I'm just saying that there's nothing wrong with moving on," she smiled sympathetically. "You don't have to be the Emily you were at fifteen just because Tom is. You deserve happiness, Princess."

  "I know, I know," I nodded.

  "And if you have the chance to hop on the boss," she whispered suggestively as she cheerfully cuffed my shoulder. "Then, I think you should go for it!"

  "You're impossible," I laughed, grateful for her honesty, but also frightened by what it meant. For the last six months, I'd thought about leaving Tommy on a regular basis. He wasn't the guy I'd married four years ago, and he didn't seem to be incredibly concerned about that, either. I wanted more out of my life than settling down in a north Vegas house and having children, and at this point, I couldn't imagine having children with Tommy acting like one himself.

  Just then, Crystal in 2D pressed the call button. I forced a friendly smile and left the galley to see what she neede

  Chapter Eighteen

  Austin

  I'd been working for several hours when Emily poked her head in to check on me.

  "Do you need anything, Austin?" she asked in a voice that was so sweet it made me chuckle. Her brow furrowed for a moment, but was quickly replaced by a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

  "I'm sorry, I wasn't laughing at you," I explained, self-conscious about feeling like I needed to explain. "It's just that the sound of your voice reminds me of all the good things I remember about the neighborhood I grew up in."

  "Really? Where did you grow up?" she asked.

  "Brooklyn, more specifically, Bushwick," I said.

  "And, I remind you of Brooklyn?" she said with a doubtful look on her face.

  "Well, not Brooklyn Brooklyn," I explained suddenly feeling tongue-tied. "It's more like the feeling of being in Brooklyn and all the things we used to do on really great summer days."

  "Ah, I see," she smiled this time it reached her eyes and they took on a mischievous glint. "So, what you're saying is that I sound like a childish summer day buried somewhere deep in your memory and when you hear the sound of my voice, you're thrown back to street corners where the fire hydrants are spilling water on the hot pavement while kids dance in the puddles."

  "How did you know-" I said, stunned that she could conjure up such a specific memory – one that she hadn't been present for on Grove Street.

  "I have some similar memories of summer afternoons in my neighborhood," she said, shrugging as if that summer memory was the same for kids all over the country. "And they often make me laugh, too."

  I looked up at her from where I sat and studied her face for a moment. She wasn't stunning like so many of the girls I dated, but she possessed a simple bea
uty that none of them could match. I felt something inside me stir as I looked at her. She'd taken off the flight attendant uniform cap when we'd taken off and now, eight hours into the trip, her neat little bun was starting to come undone. Tendrils had escaped from the pins she'd used to keep it all out of her face and were softly framing her face, and I smiled as I stood up and walked toward her.

  A dark cloud passed flitted across her face making me pull back just before I reached out to push the wayward hairs away.

  "Do you need anything right now?" she asked in a very businesslike tone.

  "Uh, no," I said as I covered my surprise at her quick defense. "I was just going to stretch my legs and use the facilities."

  "I see," she replied as she backed up into the main cabin. She was blushing again, and I had no idea why. "I'll check back with you in a bit about a meal."

  I nodded as I turned slightly away from her so that she wouldn't notice the effect she'd had on me, and as I did, I felt profoundly confused.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Emily

  The rest of the flight passed without incident. Or with only minor incident, as the Wexler twins, Cornelia and Crystal, overhearing Trish tell me about how the drunk in 2A was becoming more hands-on than she was comfortable with staged an intervention and shamed 2A into sitting quietly in his pod for the duration of the flight. I didn't hear what they said to him, but Trish later told me that Cornelia delivered a blistering lecture on the appealing lack of manners in today's young folk. Crystal acted as her congregation and replied in typical southern call and response fashion, "Mmmm hmmm," and "Oh Lordy, yes," whenever her sister made a particularly pointed jab at the man.

  We were giggling about it in the galley when Austin walked in and cleared his throat.

  "Oh, Mr. Marks, I'm so sorry!" Trish exclaimed as she dropped a china teacup shattering it into numerous pieces.

  "Hey, hey, hey," he said as he bent down to help her pick up the shards of broken Wedgwood. "That'll come out of your salary, young lady."

  "Oh my gosh, I know," Trish said sheepishly as she looked down ashamed at having lost her cool cover.

  "I'm teasing," he laughed as he looked up at me and made my heart drop to my stomach. I could feel the heat rising from my chest and spreading up to my cheeks and I cursed myself for not being more like Trish. "No one pays for something we buy in bulk. I'm sure customers break way more of this stuff than you folks do."

  "Oh, right," Trish laughed weakly as she deposited the fragments in a paper bag so that they wouldn't tear open the plastic bin liner.

  "I just wanted to tell you both that you've done a spectacular job on this flight," he smiled warmly at Trish and then looked at me. "And you. I don't think anyone would ever have guessed that it's your first flight in first class."

  "Thank you, Austin," I said, shyly smiling as I looked up into his dark eyes. For a moment, I imagined what it would be like if he took me in his arms and pulled me to him. I knew what his body felt like beneath that tailored suit, but what I really wanted to do was unbutton that soft silky shirt and bury my face in the smell of his chest while I ran my hands over the bare skin of his muscled chest. I could feel his hands reaching around and cupping my bottom as he pulled me tightly to him before leaning down and tipping my face up so that...

  "Earth to Emily!" Trish hollered in my ear as she jabbed an elbow into my side.

  "Ouch!" I cried. "What did you have to do that for?"

  "Because you were out there in outer space somewhere, and I needed to bring you back to earth," she said dryly.

  "I'm sorry, what did you want?" I asked.

  "Not me, Princess," she grinned mischievously. "Mr. Marks would like a warm towel and a glass of bourbon. I told him I'd send you in as soon as I changed you into the virginal vestments that we usually use when we're about to turn our bodies over to customers for the first time."

  "You what?" I cried.

  "Relax, I told him you'd bring it right in," she laughed as she pulled out the bottle of Benchmark that we kept hidden for only the most special customers and poured two fingers into a heavy lead glass. I grabbed a towel from the warmer and put it on the tray. Then, I swallowed hard and walked out into the cabin.

  Austin was on the phone when I entered his pod and he motioned for me to set the tray on the ottoman. I nodded and then quickly left the room, closing the door behind me. I didn't breathe out until I was back in the galley.

  Trish and I began preparing for the landing by storing everything we'd taken out and collecting what was still floating around the customer's pods in the cabin. When I returned to Austin's pod, the tray with the towel and glass was sitting on the floor outside the door and I felt a little sad when I realized that I probably wouldn't get this close to him again – ever.

  Chapter Twenty

  Emily

  It took Trish and me nearly two hours to deplane everyone and clean up the galley. We weren't responsible for cleaning the cabin, but we always tried to keep it looking decent for the crew that came in to do the sweeping and polishing. Often times, they'd do little special things like cleaning out the fridge or scrubbing the sinks with steel wool to make the return trip even nicer, plus it was just a decent thing to do.

  By the time we made it to the shuttle area, we had both been on our feet for almost twenty hours and were ready to take a hot shower and then fall straight into bed for at least twelve hours of sleep. That's how the long hauls often were. People always envied us, but I've given up trying to explain how completely exhausted we are when the flight actually arrives and how very little time we have to do any sightseeing or shopping. They never believe me, and it's probably just as well.

  At the front desk of the hotel, Trish checked in first, got her room key, hugged me, and headed up to collapse in comfort. We were staying at the Marks Hotel about two miles from the airport and this time, we'd gotten luxury suites instead of the usual bed, desk, and dresser rooms. I was excited to see how the other half lived and anxious to soak in a huge tub.

  "I'm sorry, Ms. Warner, there's no reservation listed here for you," said the desk clerk as he tapped the keyboard on his computer. "I'm not sure what happened, but there are no suites available in the entire hotel tonight."

  "Wait, what?" I said as I looked at him through trip-weary eyes. My thinking was fuzzy and I wasn't sure I'd heard him correctly. "Are you telling me that I've been awake for almost twenty-four hours and that I now have no place to sleep?"

  "Well, not exactly," he hedged as he frantically tapped the keyboard as if conjuring a kind of magic that would suddenly make a suite appear. "Let me check one more thing..."

  "Oh God, I know that phrase," I groaned. "Let me check one more thing" is the bane of any service person's existence. It really means "abandon all hope, there's nothing I can do, but I'll keep you calm for a few more minutes as I try to think of something to save this situation," and I knew it because I'd used it myself. "Isn't there a room somewhere in this place? I'm exhausted and I just need to sleep."

  "I'm checking..." he trailed off as he pounded more frantically on the keyboard.

  "Hey, Karl, how are you tonight?" From across the lobby came a voice that I recognized.

  "I'm...I'm...I'm good, Mr. Marks, how are you?" Karl said miserably as he shifted his gaze from computer to boss and then back again.

  "Is there a problem?" Austin asked as he looked at me and winked. I immediately blushed from the roots of my hair to the tips of my toes.

  "Well, it seems that we have no reservation for Ms. Warner," Karl replied as his voice went from miserable to desperate. "And I can't find a room for her anywhere in the hotel."

  "Ah, I see," Austin nodded. "Well, how about you give her my suite and move me up to the penthouse or better yet, just put Ms. Warner in the penthouse and leave me alone?"

  "Oh, Mr. Marks, I'm not supposed to-" Karl began.

  "Karl, I'm not sure if you've noticed, but I actually own this hotel, so technically it makes me your direct b
oss," Austin said in a low voice. "As such, I'm ordering you to book Ms. Warner in the penthouse for the next four nights."

  "Okay, if you say so..." Karl said as he gave Austin a suspicious look. "I don't know what Mr. Bartholomew will say about this, but I'll tell him that you ordered it and that should clear it up."

  "Reginald Bartholomew? That old son of a gun," Austin laughed. "I need to see him first thing in the morning, anyway. Don't worry, Karl. You will not lose your job over this."

  "I appreciate that, Mr. Marks," Karl said as he breathed a visible sigh of relief.

  I watched the exchange like it was a tennis match, and when it was over, I knew that not only had Austin prevailed, but that I had truly lucked out. My excitement was tempered by the fact that I was nearly dead on my feet and in desperate need of a bed. Karl quickly assigned me a room key and told me he'd have the bellman bring my bag upstairs.

  "There's no need for that, Karl," Austin waved him off. "I'll take her up there and show her around since I know the place so well."

  "Alright, Mr. Marks," Karl said hesitantly, but wanting no more trouble, he let it go and watched Austin and I walk to the elevator.

  "You're crazy, you know that, right?" I said in a sleepy voice as I rubbed my eyes and tried to focus on the elevator door since I knew it would lead to a bed.

  "Yeah, probably," Austin replied with a weak smile.

  "Are you okay?" I asked.

  "Oh, I'm fine. Just a little distracted, that's all," he said as he looked away and then up at the lighted numbers on the door above us as the elevator reached the ground floor and silently slid open.

  "Alright, well, thank you," I said and offered him the best smile I had left.