“That’s fine.”
“Oh, and you’re eating with us today.”
Us? “Okay.”
Simon nodded. “It’s my specialty.”
Smiling, I raised an eyebrow, and I was grateful to be eating with them. I’d been running out of food and hadn’t wanted to go to the store, not since all this happened—but pickings were getting pretty slim at home, and I wasn’t looking forward to eating my lunch that consisted of the last two carrots in my fridge along with leftovers from the old package of Rice-A-Roni I’d made the night before.
Simon’s meal would be the closest thing we’d have to dining out, considering my first Monday on the job was the day the governor ordered restaurants and bars to close across the state. Sure, you could get takeout, but it wasn’t always the same.
“So what is it, Simon? Or is that a secret?”
His eyes twinkled as he answered my question. “Chicken parmigiana. And I’ll serve it with either a soup or salad. Madam’s choice.”
“Oh. I get to choose?” When he nodded, I asked, “What kind of soup?”
“Minestrone, of course.”
“What would you recommend?”
“I make the soup from scratch.”
Maddox added, “It’s really good. A meal in itself.”
“You’re too kind, sir.”
“Okay, then soup it is.” I grinned at Simon. He really was a nice man, but I’d noticed the other day he was wearing a wedding ring, and I wondered how being at Maddox’s beck and call dug into his personal life.
But he always seemed to leave before I did, so maybe it was like a regular nine-to-five job.
After he left, Maddox and I got the camera set up, and I was looking at him through the screen. “Hold on, Bailey. Come sit here for a second. I want to see how it looks before we film.”
I sat as he scrutinized me through the monitor of the camera. When he started to adjust it, I said, “No, don’t try to center me in the frame. You’re taller than I am. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure it looks right.”
“Why don’t you film me saying a sentence or two so I can see what it looks like before doing the whole thing? So we can see what it looks like here in case I don’t like it?”
I continued looking at him through the monitor. “Move the chair closer to the fire so we can actually see it.”
“For an associate, you’re pretty bossy, Bailey.”
Blinking, I found myself momentarily speechless—but the words finally came out. “Really?”
“You didn’t even say please.” His smirk confirmed that he was joking.
And that brought out my inner snark. “If I’d asked nicely, you wouldn’t have done it.”
“You really think so?” His lips were still curled up in a smile.
“I suspect you miss being bossed around. When’s the last time anyone told you what to do?”
Shifting my eyes from the camera’s monitor to the real man, I felt something tangible between us. His eyes were smoldering, but there was no anger in his gaze. It made me feel warm in the center of my body, turning everything to jelly—and I wondered what he might be thinking.
“You might be surprised.”
At this very moment, I saw in him what I suspected my dear friend had seen all along—raw sexuality, pure masculinity, and it jumped across the room, grabbing me about the waist and quivering thighs…making me want him worse than a thirsty man might crave a cool glass of water.
How I managed to make my mouth continue to move, I wouldn’t know. “Mr. Steel,” I said, hoping to break the spell, “when’s the last time you worked for someone else?”
Even though he continued to smile, there was nothing friendly or happy about his expression. In fact, I couldn’t read his face at all. “Probably longer than you’ve been in the workforce. But being bossed around isn’t necessarily correlated to working for someone.”
Saliva accumulated in my mouth, forcing me to swallow as I considered his words. “True.” I fought against a smile and began adjusting the monitor so I could escape his eyes, even if for only a moment. “And I suspect it might be more rewarding.”
“Infinitely so.”
Clearing my throat, I looked up at him, hoping again to break the spell. While I was now appreciating more about this man, I wasn’t ready to fall head over heels. In fact, I doubted he deserved my admiration.
Well…maybe as a powerful man of a successful company. I’d give him that.
But not my heart.
My voice didn’t sound as steady as I would have liked. “Are you ready?”
“Did I make you uncomfortable, Bailey?”
No way would I tell him he’d gotten under my skin. “The only things that make me uncomfortable, Mr. Steel, are tight elastic and sitting on a vinyl car seat in August while wearing shorts.”
“That’s only because you don’t have proper air conditioning. And why do you keep reverting to calling me Mr. Steel? You were the one who wanted to be on a first-name basis, but if you like, I’m always okay going back to a more formal address.”
Lying, I said, “I didn’t even notice it.”
“I must command that kind of respect—which makes it all the more puzzling that you’d have the audacity to try ordering me around.”
His voice was scary sounding but, as I connected my eyes to his, feeling sheepish and unsure, he started laughing. And I joined him.
“I suspect you like it.” Standing up straight, I held my finger over a button on the camera. “Are you ready? Maddox?”
“I like that much better. And yes.”
“Then action!”
After I pressed the button, Maddox was much like an actor getting into character. His visage took on the seriousness he was known for. The pictures of him I’d seen in the Denver Post and in various financial magazines over the years, not to mention in-house publications and the photo of him displayed in the lobby of Essential Solutions always showed him with an expression that communicated the weight of the job. We were investing billions of dollars on behalf of people who completely trusted us—and that was all thanks to Maddox Steel. I was certain the look on his face, unamused, his eyes full of careful consideration, was a big part of why.
His voice matched those qualities.
And I grew warm all over again, my upper thighs nearly quivering with desire. I wanted to paw that man all over.
Straightening my back, I put on the appearance of the utmost professional. It was difficult in jeans and a pink sweater, but I’d do my damnedest. Maddox’s words were eloquent and reassuring, but I was focused on the feel of his tone.
It caressed me.
“We’re currently in a time of uncertainty. Although reminiscent of the Great Recession, it’s unlike anything most of us have ever experienced—and that uncertainty is reflected in the market today.”
If I could keep my hands from making the cue cards shake, I’d know my performance was as smooth as his on camera.
How the hell could I get Maddox Steel out of my head?
Did I even want to?
Chapter Eight
Slicing my fork through the layers of the decadent tiramisu in front of me, I tried to keep my mouth from watering. “How do you manage to maintain your weight, Maddox?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean if you eat like this every day—chicken parmigiana, tiramisu, buttery garlic bread—how do you manage to stay fit and trim?”
I wanted to ask how he stayed so firm and hard and cut. Ah, but I hadn’t seen him without his clothes. It was a guess. An educated one, though. His musculature was hard to pretend not to notice.
He laughed, making the corners of his eyes crinkle. “I don’t eat like this every day. Every once in a while if I’m home, Simon makes something special for me.”
“Yeah, but this is like five meals in one.” All the delicious fat and sugar and calories…
The way he cocked his eyebrow made my stomach clench. “You have to make sure to work out
harder. It keeps you in shape.”
Swallowing, I averted my eyes back to the tiramisu on my fork, bringing it to my mouth. The flavors of coffee and cocoa exploded as I moved the dessert around between my teeth. “Mmm.”
“The best, yes? Simon is one of the most talented cooks I’ve ever met.”
“You’re too kind, sir,” Simon said, approaching the table with a carafe and two mugs. “Would you like some coffee?”
Maddox gave one small nod of his head, and I decided that sounded good. “Yes, please.”
Soon, we were alone again and Maddox took a sip of his coffee. “I get the feeling you deny yourself a lot of desserts.”
Oh, God. Had I been an animal, shoving the tiramisu in my mouth like a starving lion? I glanced at the plate to assure myself that I’d been taking my time, ladylike and slow. “I do.”
“Nothing wrong with that. But you have to allow yourself little pleasures from time to time.”
My spine stiffened…because it felt like he was talking about something else entirely. Setting my fork down as if to make a point, I forced myself to look in his eyes. “I do.”
“Hmm.” Maddox set his coffee mug down before reaching over with his fork, spearing another bite of the dessert on my plate. Only he didn’t bring it to his mouth as I expected. Instead, he brought it to mine. “Yet here it is and you’re only allowing yourself a couple of small bites. If you decide you’re going to eat dessert, you shouldn’t deny yourself. Enjoy the pleasure fully.” I opened my mouth, picturing the fork as his cock instead, taking his words as I was beginning to suspect he intended. As he pulled the utensil out of my closed lips, he added, “And don’t feel guilty about it afterward. So long as it’s not an addiction, there’s nothing wrong with rewarding yourself on occasion.”
I pulled a long, slow breath through my nose, trying to keep myself calm and steady. After I swallowed the piece he’d placed in my mouth, I looked at the small white plate in front of him. “You talk a good game, Maddox, but you’ve hardly touched yours.”
He gave a small laugh then, breaking the spell. “And that’s why I’m the boss. Do as I say, not as I do.” Still grinning, he scooped up a bite of his own, closing his lips around the fork.
As we ate in silence for a while, I began to wonder if I was making more out of that exchange than I should have. Maybe it had all been completely innocent. Fun. A little flirty, perhaps, but nothing that had any real meaning.
And his next words cemented that thought.
“Bailey, now that the governor has put out a stay-at-home order, I’m concerned about where it’s going to go.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been vital to my work here.”
I pushed my fork through another slice of the decadent dessert. “Yes, but don’t you expect your old admin to be back soon?”
“I’m sure you know I can’t talk about what’s going on with her—but, suffice it to say, I don’t expect her back for another few weeks.” Picking up his coffee cup, he waited to speak until my eyes met his again. “Which brings me to you. I have work to get done here, Bailey, virus or no virus. And, even though I’m not meeting with clients for dinner or other events, I’m as busy as ever. I can’t do it by myself.” I nodded, waiting for him to say more. “This stay-at-home order…right now, it’s not bad. Simon can still shop for me—and I can continue driving you home. But I’ve been keeping an eye on what’s going on elsewhere. People leaving their homes getting accosted, shot, even arrested.”
My eyes felt like saucers. “What?”
“I don’t expect that here in the U.S. But I could see authorities clamping down more if the virus keeps spreading like it has been…making us all go into quarantine. So this is what I propose. You pack your bags, whatever you think you’ll need for a week or two, and you stay here.”
Part of me liked this idea—but another part of me was freaking out. “Weekends, too?”
“Just until this pandemic blows over. I have a second master suite upstairs. You’d have your own room and bathroom. I’ll get whatever else you need for the duration, but I don’t want to lose the progress we’ve made.”
I considered protesting more, maybe because I didn’t want to seem as eager as I felt. Instead, I decided to be practical. “So Monday? I’ll bring all my stuff with me then?”
“No. Today. Make a list of the food you’ll need and I’ll have Simon fetch it before taking you to your place to get your things.” His eyes examined mine. “Are you okay with this?”
“Yes. It’s just a little sudden.”
“To you, perhaps. I’ve been giving it a lot of thought.”
While it would have been nice if he’d shared those ideas with me earlier, I’d get over it. “I should probably visit my mom and stepdad this weekend. If they’re feeling better.”
“I don’t want to tell you what to do, Bailey, but…have they been sick?”
I dodged the question. “They’re both struggling right now. They can’t work. I’m really worried about them.”
His voice was soft, kinder than I’d ever heard it before. “Would money help?”
Suddenly, I felt suspicious. I didn’t want Maddox to think I was saying anything of the sort, even if it were true—because I never wanted him to think I was using him. It didn’t matter that he had more money than he could ever spend. The rumor was that he had officially achieved billionaire status around the time I’d started working for his company.
That was, of course, a rumor—but, having worked from his house, I began to suspect it might be true.
My pride made me search my brain for a good response. I took so much time answering, though, that he figured out the truth. “How much do they need?”
“No, Maddox, I’m not asking for money for them. I’m pretty sure they’ll be able to draw unemployment.”
The frown on his face furrowed his brow in the loveliest way. “Have you been paying attention to the government, Bailey? Even here in Colorado. The number of people filing for unemployment spiked earlier this month. It’s been so bad, their website is having technical difficulties. Have your parents applied for it yet?”
“I have no idea, Maddox. Honestly…I try to avoid talking to them as much as possible.”
Taking the hint, he drew a slow breath in through his nose and nodded his head. “The offer stands—so just let me know.”
When Simon reappeared in the dining room, he looked at my plate. The tiramisu was all but gone. “Did you enjoy it?”
“Oh, very much so. That was amazing.”
“Let me know when you’re ready for me to drive you to your apartment.” It was then that I realized what a coordinated team these two were—and I didn’t know if I should appreciate it or feel a little uneasy. “Sir, I’m going to be stocking up in general for you, but is there anything in particular you’d like me to look for?”
Maddox cocked an eyebrow, melting me with his gaze. “Do you like popcorn?”
“Sometimes.”
“Get some microwave popcorn, if you don’t mind. Oh, but also make sure I’ve got kernels.”
Simon nodded. “Consider it done.”
“Do we still have ingredients for S’mores?”
“Yes.” Simon’s eyes looked like his soul had shriveled up inside him. Without a trace of humor in his expression, he turned to me. “I make world-class tiramisu, cheesecakes, crème brûlée—and Mr. Steel wants to eat burned marshmallows between two pieces of sweetened cardboard.”
I pursed my lips together, but I knew my amusement would show in my eyes—and Maddox let out a loud belly laugh. “Don’t forget the chocolate, Simon. That’s the best part.”
“Processed milk chocolate. Indeed. Most definitely the best part.”
Maddox grinned at me while scooping up more of Simon’s creation. “It’s only because I taste plebian delights that I’m able to fully appreciate your refined creations.”
Simon was smiling now, but I didn’t know if he truly found Madd
ox’s teasing funny. “Anything else, sir?”
“Just whatever Bailey wants.”
“Let me know when you’re ready.”
“I can go now.” Standing, I picked up my dessert plate.
Both Simon and Maddox said, “Leave it.”
They made me feel almost sheepish. “In stereo, even.”
“It’s what I get paid to do, Ms. Bernard.”
I almost corrected him, asking him to call me by my first name, but I didn’t know if he’d feel comfortable doing that in front of his boss. “Fine. Let me grab my coat and I’ll meet you by the back door.” I walked quickly toward the study, wanting to bypass both of these men wanting to hold the swinging door for me.
It was cold out, so even though I considered standing outside, I waited for Simon by the door. As we walked outside, he asked, “Would you like to write me your list on the way to your apartment? While you’re gathering your things, I can go shopping.”
“I can go shopping with you. It won’t take me long to get my stuff.”
“I won’t be long, either. There’s a store just a block or so from your apartment. Then you can take your time, making sure you haven’t forgotten anything.”
This was probably another one of those areas where I wasn’t allowed to help. Well, Maddox was in for a rude awakening if he thought I’d just dirty dishes all weekend long without cleaning up after myself.
If it were my own apartment, maybe.
Soon, Simon and I were making our way around the house and I saw Maddox at the door watching us. I felt a shiver charge down my spine as I wondered what he was thinking.
More than that, though, my mind wandered back to something he’d said over dessert. I took out a small notebook and pen from my purse so I could write a list for Simon, but I found it hard to concentrate. What was it Maddox had said? Something about appreciating plebian delights?
I couldn’t help but wonder if I was included in that description. Was I the S’more to his usual tiramisu and, if so, what did I need to do to protect myself?
Chapter Nine
“Have a good weekend, Simon.”
Quarantined with the Billionaire Page 7