The Virgin Secretary: A Billionaire Romance

by Cross, Veronica

  “Really, Ethan? Is she really worth all this?” Jih asked, his voice rough. Ethan stared at him, his expression so intense that Jih seemed to draw back slightly.

  Janet, who was on her way back from work, heard the commotion. When she heard Ethan’s name, she was drawn to the voices. She observed the scene as the two brawled violently again.

  Janet turned to George and Kan. “What are you two idiots doing just standing there? Why aren’t you stopping them?” She was enraged. Janet threw herself between Ethan and Jih, pushing them away from each other. It wasn’t much work since Jih, who had been on the losing side of the battle, already lay in a hump on the floor. Ethan turned to look at her, confused at her sudden appearance. His face was bloody but nothing compared to what Jih looked like. Janet cradled his face in her hands.

  “Look at your face!” she cried. “Just look at the state of you!”

  “And why should you care what state I’m in?” Ethan shot back.

  “I don’t particularly enjoy people injured because of their own stupidity. I’m sure your fight with Jih could have been solved without violence.”

  Ethan didn’t respond.

  “Are you even capable of thinking ahead of your actions?”

  She held his face tighter. “Fix this. Fix him and yourself. You can’t get away with everything you do, Ethan. I hate seeing you like this.”

  She pressed a kiss to his forehead, the only part of his face that wasn’t bloody. With a last exasperated look at him and the two onlookers, she left.

  Chapter Sixteen: Making Amends

  Janet shifted in her bed, unable to find a comfortable spot, ready to cry from frustration and exhaustion. She wanted to fall into a deep sleep, but her body wouldn’t let her.

  A gentle knock sounded on her door. She sat up warily, wondering who would be knocking at her door at 1 am. Cautiously, she peered out of the peeping hole to find Ethan standing there. She threw open the door. Ethan looked a lot better since the fight that evening. His face wasn’t bloody anymore except for a few wounds here and there. There was a bandage on his cheek.

  “Polite, gentle knock?” she asked him. “Jih must have hit you harder than it seemed.”

  It was then that she realized she was standing in front of Ethan wearing an oversized T-shirt and nothing else. Her hair was in disarray, and she must look terrible. He didn’t seem to care as he stared at her with his deep, penetrating eyes.

  Suddenly, she threw herself at him, holding him in a tight embrace. He was surprised but hugged her back, stroking her hair.

  “You’re such an idiot,” she sobbed against his neck.

  “I’m alright, Janet,” he said soothingly.

  “You’re still an idiot.”

  They stood like that for a few minutes before Janet pulled away to look at him. He still held her as she ran a hand down his injuries.

  “Feel better?” she asked.

  “Much,” he replied.

  His closeness was impairing her judgment like it usually did. “Perfect,” she found herself whispering. “That means you should kiss me now.”

  He hesitated as if hovering on the edge of a precipice before leaning in and capturing her lips with his. She pulled him closer as he moved his attention to her neck. She sighed in delight as he continued up her jaw.

  “You’re shivering,” he murmured.

  “It’s draughty outside,” she replied reasonably.

  “Invite me inside then,” he said lazily.

  Without waiting for an answer, he picked her up and kicked the door shut with his foot. He carried her to her bed and dropped her there. Janet hastily pulled her shirt down as she scrambled into a sitting position. She scowled at him but then invited him to sit with her. He kicked off his shoes and slid in beside her, pulling her close as they lay back against the pillow. The quilt covered them both.

  “Why did you hit Jih?” she asked quietly.

  “He talked about you in a way I didn’t like.”

  Janet turned to him in surprise. “I don’t want you beating people up on my behalf.”

  “It wasn’t for you. It made me angry.”

  They were silent.

  “Where do we go from here?” Janet asked. “You’re still a rich, spoiled brat and I’m still only just a serving girl.”

  “I thought maybe we could try a date,” he replied. “A real one. Just you and I, doing something normal young adults enjoy doing. A nice, uncomplicated evening.”

  “Ethan, if you think that’s even slightly possible, I’m willing to try.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her softly, resting his forehead against hers. Janet’s body was tingling all over from his nearness, the tension almost crackling between them. His fingers were trailing gently up and down her arms, creating a tension between the two of them as they looked into each other’s eyes. She was afraid to move, not wanting to break the spell.

  But then he sighed, before sitting up.

  “I should go.”

  She sat up too, frowning.

  “Don’t let me keep you from whatever is so important.”

  Ethan laughed. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to hold back with you lying half-dressed next to me. And I want to take it slow this time. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Janet nodded reluctantly.

  She walked to the door with him.

  “I’ll see you at university, and then we can arrange that date,” he said. He leaned down to place one last kiss on her lips before he departed.

  Epilogue

  Janet walked hastily, trying her best to avoid the gaze of needy customers as she breezed past.

  “Excuse me miss,” the voices quieted as they realized she hadn’t heard them and they would have to wait until she came around to their table again.

  Janet approached the kitchen.

  “I need two steak sandwiches and an order of chocolate cake, and where is the meatloaf, my customers are getting antsy, and they’re really annoying.”

  “Give us five minutes!” Yelled the kitchen staff.

  “Oh server girl,” a voice yelled out arrogantly from a nearby table. “I need something over here,” he continued.

  Janet recognized his voice and demeanor instantly, and a smile swept over her face.

  “My romantic dinner is almost complete, it's only missing a girlfriend,” he smiled.

  “Ethan our date isn’t until tomorrow, and I’m working until 9.”

  “I couldn’t wait until tomorrow,” he smiled and pointed at his watch.

  9:05.

  “You work too hard,” he laughed.

  She smiled and kissed him.

  “You’re a pretty good kisser, you know, for a server girl.”

  Protected by the Billionaire

  A Suspense Romance

  Veronica Cross

  Protected by the Billionaire

  Copyright 2017 by Veronica Cross

  All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.

  NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to a person, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: Due to mature subject matter, such as explicit sexual situations and coarse language, this story is not suitable for anyone under the age of 18. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older, and all acts of a sexual nature are consensual.

  Chapter One: The Gallery

  The gallery was packed with patrons; from the very artsy to the very sparkly, they were certainly the kind of crowd that dazzled. Hesitating, Tess took one last breath before pushing through the sparkling
glass doors.

  Heels clicking against the wooden floor, she glanced around for a familiar face. When she finally found who she was looking for, she was unsurprised to see that he was flirting with a blonde by the coat check counter. Tess smirked, watching his notoriously dorky approach. When she caught his eye, he immediately excused himself and half-ran to Tess, wrapping her in a tight hug.

  “You look absolutely stunning,” Josh said, kissing her cheek.

  “Isabel outdid herself with this dress,” Tess grinned sheepishly. Her best friend and gallery owner extraordinaire took great pleasure in dressing Tess with things she would never choose for herself. “It’s a bit much for me, really.”

  Her brother just laughed. “You do kind of look like a disco ball,” he admitted, “But a really pretty one, I promise.”

  She smacked him with her purse. “No wonder you don’t have a real date to this thing.”

  He shrugged and took her coat. “I can be charming when I want to be. I just don’t generally want to be. What’s your excuse?”

  She sighed. “Well, I was in Europe up until last week. A few years in a foreign country has made my social circle here in New York kind of small.”

  Josh rested his hand on top of Tess’s hair, and suddenly she felt like she was four years old again, watching him run off to school without her. She smiled, not minding as much as she might have once upon a time. Grinning, Josh added, “I really am glad you’re back, you know.”

  Tess might have commented, but Josh’s attention was suddenly diverted as one of the doctor-looking types called his name. He cast a hesitant glance her way, like a puppy begging to go play. She rolled her eyes before making a shooing motion with her hands, laughing when he ran off.

  Tess set off in the opposite direction, walking leisurely and listening in as people discussed the art on the walls. This was, after all, mostly her work. As the owner of The Gallery, Isabel had spent hours agonizing over which artists to feature for the charity auction the American Cancer Society was hosting in her gallery that night. Tess, as the featured artist, was privy to every possibility and had a huge hand in the choices made. As such, Tess was as interested in feedback as Isabel was, if not more so.

  From what she was gathering, it seemed that most of the patrons were at least interested in the artwork, though she wasn’t quite sure that they were getting the emotion of it all. After all, it was hard to immerse yourself in emotion when surrounded by so much glamor.

  When she approached the corner that hosted her own artwork, she hesitated. She was never one to take criticism personally, but the paintings she displayed were more than a little personal; after all, the subject was her older brother. Even now that Josh was officially a cancer survivor, she remembered what it was like before Josh went into remission. He survived, but his odds hadn’t been good at the time.

  She closed her eyes, trying to clear her mind of those memories. She couldn’t imagine losing him; it was hard enough just watching him in so much pain for so long. His battle with mortality had certainly brought them closer, though, and she was grateful for that. She’d just made up her mind to do another circle when a man appeared at her elbow.

  He was gorgeous; that much she noticed right away. His hair curled in that perfectly-careless way that only a highly confident man could pull off, and his eyes were a warm brown, crinkled at the edges. His navy suit was well tailored, and she wondered briefly if the dizzyingly delicious scent was natural, or something he was wearing.

  “It’s interesting, isn’t it?” He mused out loud. Tess did a cursory check, but there was no one else around - he was definitely talking to her. Unable to pass up the chance to hear feedback first hand, she feigned ignorance.

  “This painting, you mean? How so?”

  “There’s no precision, no technique. The sketches are good, but the painting is shoddy. I don’t know what the ACS was thinking, they usually have higher standards than this.”

  She arched an eyebrow.

  “I’m not sure how much influence the ACS really had over the gallery’s choices,” she said dismissively, “But maybe there’s something you’re missing about the piece.” She said this cautiously, trying to sound offhand. Shoddy painting? Please. She was known for her impeccably well-placed brush strokes. Every “mistake” he saw was deliberate.

  That work was supposed to be about the emotion, not the technical proficiency. Tess believed wholeheartedly in the flexibility of oil paints. Of all mediums, oils were the most flexible emotive. Channeling the raw truth of fighting cancer wasn’t easy, and she had felt that the ragged brushstrokes did it better than carefully outlined anatomy did. She wasn’t offended, necessarily, but he was missing the point.

  “Do you know something I don’t?” He asked, amused by her disagreement.

  She answered with a wry smile, though she was growing more irritated with his shallow assessment of her art by the second. “Most likely, yes.”

  He laughed, and she fought back a scowl. “You know what I meant. I didn’t mean to insult your intelligence.”

  Plastering a smile on her face, despite her budding desire to set him straight, she tried to explain herself without creating conflict. “Yes, well. I happen to know that this particular series resonates with a large number of people in attendance; the artist finished it in a hospital room. She thought her brother was dying.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “Leukemia’s a bitch, but the colors have less to do with cancer and more to do with fate, or impending death. The blue lips, the pale skin… using art to explore the worst imaginable outcome was this artists’ way of coping. Morbid as it may be,” Tess acknowledged.

  When she stopped monologuing, the man turned the intensity of his gaze from the painting to her face, studying her. “Perhaps I misjudged this one.”

  “Perhaps,” she smiled coolly, still a little miffed by his quick, closed-minded judgment.

  There was silence for a beat before he leaned forward slightly and asked,

  “Who are you?”

  She arched an eyebrow, wondering if he realized how incredibly rude he was being. “Are you questioning my authority, or do you just want my name?” His crooked grin was swoon-worthy, but the effect was dulled by his arrogance. He didn’t answer, just watched expectantly.

  She was still considering her answer when an arm wrapped around her shoulders.

  “I see you’ve found my fifteen minutes of fame,” Josh said, speaking to the man as he ruffled Tess’s hair. She elbowed him in the ribs lightly, muttering about how much time she’d spent on her hair.

  “I didn’t even recognize you,” the stranger said, considering the painting critically again. Truly, it didn’t look much like Josh at all. His head was angled so that you couldn’t really see his face, and the defeat in the portrait’s posture was very un-Josh-like.

  “Oh, yeah, I mean, I don’t think I ever looked that ugly. Tess here has a wild imagination,” he laughed.

  “All the best artists do.” As Tess spoke, she disentangled herself from Josh. “Now, if you boys will excuse me, I think I’m needed behind the curtain. Enjoy the rest of the gallery - but do try not to insult any more of the artists,” she addressed the other man, realizing that she still didn’t know his name.

  She resisted the urge to look back as she walked away; who was that man? How did he know Josh, and how could Josh possibly stand being around someone so quick to judge?

  Shaking off the distraction, Tess refocused on the auction and everything that needed to be done. She had more important matters to deal with than this stranger’s identity - she’d promised Isabel that she would help make sure things ran smoothly, but she hadn’t even checked in with her yet, and the time of the actual auction was fast approaching.

  “Tess!” The delighted squeal carried over the general buzz of the crowd. Tess spun and abruptly found herself enveloped in her beautifully-dressed best friend’s arms.

  There was no sparkle to what Isabel was wearing,
but she was all flowing chiffon and classic red lipstick. Her gown was a deep maroon with a lovely silhouette that caught many envious eyes as she crossed the floor in killer stilettos.

  “Iz! The gallery looks amazing,” Tess laughed, releasing her friend. “This is incredible.

  “Let’s not jinx it just yet, shall we?” Isabel handed Tess a glass of champagne and held her own up for a toast. “Anyway. To the American Cancer Society, and the chance to mingle with hot doctors.” Tess rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t deny that there were perks to being among very wealthy, very meticulous men who were generally intelligent conversationalists. Their collective emphasis on health and fitness didn’t hurt either; the available eye-candy was a little surreal, especially to Tess. As an artist who spent most of her time teaching children or alone in her studio, she couldn’t help but appreciate the change of pace and scenery.

  “Cheers.” Tess tapped her glass against Isabel’s and then immediately pulled her aside to catch up. Although they had prepared the gallery for the auction together, Isabel and Tess worked very different hours in very different settings; it had been over a week since they had even seen each other, and they’d dived right into planning the event. Tess had never really caught up from her time abroad. “So tell me everything I’ve missed, how is your family? And what’s new with the boyfriend?”

  “Oh, it’s all the same as ever. My mother is driving me crazy complaining about how my dad is driving her crazy. I’m relieved to finally have my own place, but I swear the phone bill is as high as my rent these days.” Isabel laughed, but Tess knew that the separation anxiety Isabel’s parents were experiencing wasn’t easy and that Iz was probably not quite as okay with it as she pretended to be. Isabel’s parents had always presented a united front when it came to their only daughter, but they constantly argued behind closed doors. Tess couldn’t imagine that Isabel’s recent move had made that situation any easier.

  “You could go off the grid,” Tess suggested with a devious smile. “Just swear off communication altogether.”