Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Christmas
Crush
An Office BDSM Romance
Jewel Killian
Copyright © 2017 Jewel Killian
All rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Also By Jewel Killian
Chapter One | Serene
Chapter Two | Jeffrey
Chapter Three | Serene
Chapter Four | Jeffrey
Chapter Five | Serene
Chapter Six | Jeffrey
Chapter Seven | Serene
Chapter Eight | Jeffrey
Chapter Nine | Serene
Chapter Ten | Jeffrey
Chapter Eleven | Serene
Chapter Twelve | Jeffrey
Chapter Thirteen | Serene
Chapter Fourteen | Jeffrey
Chapter Fifteen | Serene
Chapter Sixteen | Jeffrey
Chapter Seventeen | Serene
The Next Christmas | Serene
Epilogue | Jeffrey
Also By Jewel Killian
Also By Jewel Killian
Once Upon A Happy Ever After Series
Cinderella
Beauty and the Beast
Snow White
Rose Red
A quick and dirty series with kink-
The books in this series are short reads sure to satisfy
Holiday Studs
Halloween with the Hunk
Cass and Landon’s Story
Thanksgiving for Three
Jeannie, Noah and Nick’s Story
Christmas Crush
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Chapter One
Serene
“NO! THIS IS ABSOLUTELY unacceptable,” screamed the VP of marketing. I pulled the phone away from my ear, letting him yell his fill without sacrificing my hearing. “Don’t you understand how behind we are? We need to move on this immediately!” I muted the phone, putting the handset on my desk as Mr. Reed approached, oblivious to the call and his disgruntled VP.
“Good morning, Serene. Has the Chinese subsidiary given us the...”
“Yes, Mr. Reed. On your desk,” I said, double checking my to-do list to make sure I’d printed the reports. Getting Mr. Xiang’s assistant in China to send over their quarterly budget statements had taken more tact and patience than I had at eleven pm. But that was the cost of doing business overseas.
“And what about the meeting with...”
“Rescheduled,” I said, lifting the phone to my ear to check on the VP who was now on a tangent about overtime during a holiday costing the company millions. I’d already done the math, he estimation was off by two decimal places.
Pushing back this morning’s meeting with a mid-western venture capitalist we’ve been courting for the better part of a month only took a medium sized-favor from an account executive at Madison Square Garden. The millionaire interested in investing in our riskiest ventures, made his money accidentally by revolutionizing dairy farming because “there just had to be a better way”. This was his first time in the “Big Apple”, as he called it far too often and with far too much enthusiasm. Tickets to see The Rockettes, the quintessential New York Christmas experience—if you’re not from New York that is—was a no-brainer and took me all of thirty seconds to arrange.
“Very good,” he said while scrolling through the day’s agenda on his phone. “Were you able to pick out a Christmas present for Cass?”
I nodded. “Of course, Mr. Reed.”
That one wasn’t as easy as the first two tasks he’d asked about. Choosing a Christmas gift for Mr. Reed’s girlfriend had been the most stressful thing I’d handled in quite a while. It had to say everything he wanted it to and not a single thing more. Cass didn’t wear jewelry or care about designer bags, shoes or scarves, so all of my go-to gifts were off the table. She was too ambitious to take time off to travel, a trait which I understood intimately, so tickets to somewhere warm and tropical for the holiday were out too. After a week of searching, I’d finally found the perfect thing for her—a first edition printing of Emile Durkheim’s Rules of Sociological Method. “Yes, Mr. Reed. It will be delivered to the office...” I switched screens and pulled up the package tracking info. “...this afternoon.” I shot a glance toward the phone, the yelling VP’s light still blinked red, like his face probably was at this point.
I liked Cass, even if her reading interests were dry. I’d never met her but since her appearance in Mr. Reed’s life, he’s been markedly less stressed about the day-to-day workings of a billion dollar, multinational finance company. He looked less tired, the purple smudges under his eyes were gone, he was quicker to smile and the last time I saw the company earnings report, we were up an unprecedented percentage.
Believe it or not, that was due to Cass as well. As a Sociological Economist grad student she was more than happy to bend Mr. Reed’s ear about the latest and greatest trends in the global economy.
He nodded, nose still in his phone. “Excellent, Serene. Now, about the Christmas bonuses this year.”
I held a finger up, sensing the marketing VP’s tirade winding down. “Just one moment, Mr. Reed,” I said as I put the phone to my ear once more. I cut in as the VP took a breath. “As I told you before, Mr. Franklin, I cannot give you an estimate for next quarter’s ad budget until Mr. Reed has gone over last quarter’s, and he’s only now received the reports from China. I appreciate that you’re under a deadline, but I need you to appreciate the fact that I can’t give you figures I don’t have. Furthermore, if your department is forced into overtime to compensate for the late start, it will cost Reed Holdings International at maximum, just under seventy thousand dollars in additional pay and not that it’s any concern of yours, but the company could draw that from petty cash without feeling it. But, if you’re truly worried about the extra cost to Mr. Reed, I will personally cover it from my own paycheck. How does that sound, Mr. Franklin?” My accent gave the speech a clipped, curt tone, British t’s and d’s tend sound harsh and snooty and I usually try to tone that down. I did not in this case.
Franklin was silent for a few beats. “Get the figures to me as soon as you have them,” he grumbled and disconnected the call.
I placed the handset back in the cradle and looked up at Mr. Reed smiling and shaking his head at me.
“Is that why you let him go on and on like that? So you could put him in his place?” he asked, thoroughly amused.
I shrugged, surprised he noticed I was on the phone at all. It wasn’t the only reason. “Most VP’s are babies,” I said evenly. “You have to let them wear themselves out before they’ll hear anything.”
And that was the most annoying part of my job, babysitting the man-children. Give me problems to solve or logistics to figure out or clients to woo.
I could do that in my sleep. Hell, even shopping for Cass had been easier. Navigating the different personalities and wrangling egos within the company, that was HR’s job, not mined. And yet I somehow found myself doing it nearly every day.
Mr. Reed straightened his suit jacket unnecessarily. “Hm. You don’t, um—you don’t let me...”
I shook my head. “Of course not, sir. There’s no need with you.” I answered honestly.
He nodded. After a moment, which I’m sure he spent recounting all our interactions to see if I had “wrangled” him, he continued. “Well, I’d offer to speak with Franklin about the way he treats my staff but you’re clearly capable of handling yourself.” Mr. Reed tapped on his chin. “Although, if he talks to you that way, I can only imagine how he manages those under him. Set up a meeting with a handful of marketing reps. I want to see if there’s a bigger problem here.”
I nodded and made a note. “Of course, sir.”
“Anyway, as I was saying. About this year’s Christmas bonuses, Serene you’ll be getting your normal percentage plus this.” Mr. Reed withdrew two tickets from his inside pocket and laid them on my desk. “Anywhere you want.”
“Thank you, sir. That’s very generous.” It was. My normal ten percent holiday bonus which was four percentage points above the maximum the company offered was generous. But now he was being ridiculous. Not that I minded. I picked up the first-class airfare tickets and put them in the cigar box I kept on my desk along with all the other tickets I’d collected over the year. They weren’t all gifts from Mr. Reed. My boss was very appreciative but he usually liked to show his gratitude with cash or company stock. Many of my contacts, however, liked to show their gratitude with gifts like these.
I could have seen countless pop princesses, basketball games, musicals or plays this year but I preferred to keep them in case I needed them for leverage. Plus, who has time to travel when they work seventy to eighty hours a week.
“You went above and beyond this year. Not just here in the office but overseeing the sale of my grandfather’s property as well.” He leveled a serious, penetrating gaze at me. “I want you to know how valuable you are to me, Serene and I hope you make good use of those tickets over the holidays.”
I nodded, knowing full well those tickets would sit unused in my cigar box like all the rest.
I liked my job too much to take time off. Despite the occasional man-child wrangling.
“Of course, sir.”
Mr. Reed gave me a knowing smile but to his credit, he didn’t call out the lie. “Make sure the...”
“Already done, sir.”
“And the...?”
“Holding on line three.”
Landon Reed smiled at me. “You’re too go to me, Serene.”
I smiled back. “I know, Mr. Reed.” He stepped into his office and closed the door.
I smoothed the fabric of my pencil skirt, sipped at my Earl Grey and got to back work on my to-do list.
Chapter Two
Jeffrey
“IF I WERE A NICER GUY,” I said, scanning the faces in my lecture hall. “I’d tell you all to enjoy the holiday break and that I’m ending class early today.” I paused, hoping I’d get just a few of my first-year econ students to start packing up. No one budged. I did have their rapt attention, though. “But you know me better than that, don’t you?.” I smiled and walked the length of the lecture hall. “After the break, I’ll have a cumulative exam waiting for you. If you need study help,” I said, raising my voice over the rumble of collective groans and sighs, “Jeannie will be available. Isn’t that right, Ms. Kingston?”
My T.A. nodded from her desk. “That’s right. I have no life and will be available every day except Christmas and New Year’s day. Email me if you need a study session and we’ll set up a video chat.”
I was hard on my students but I wasn’t heartless. I’d been dropping hints at the exam for weeks and it was in the syllabus, like all my exams. Three months into the year, they already knew what to expect, they were just hoping I’d give them a break.
“But we just did the final,” a whiny kid in the back called out. “Plus, isn’t January the start of a new semester? You can’t give us an exam on the first day of class.” The kid looked smug as a few others muttered “yeah” and “he’s right”.
“Oh, but I can, Mr. Donahue,” I said, making eye contact then continuing to the class at large. “The exam will function as a review of sorts, refreshing you on all the fundamentals covered this semester so that we can move on to the grittier, meaner world of Statistical Methods in Economics.” More groans. “Studying over the holiday ensures that I don’t have to waste my time backtracking.”
Donahue crossed his arms and didn’t argue further.
I hated teaching this way. I hated the unspoken dropout percentage I was expected to maintain. I hated that weed-out classes even existed. But I had tenure here, and all things considered, being the head of the economics department at NYU was a pretty cushy job. I wasn’t going to give it up because I didn’t like that part of the program. So, I did my best to make sure everyone who wanted to succeed, did which had the unforeseen benefit of making the students who truly didn’t belong in the program realize it sooner than any other weed-out class in the university.
I tried to speak to the heads of other departments about it. I tried to get the unspoken policy that wasn’t a policy changed. No one cared. People want to stick to the status quo and do things the way they’ve always been done.
I had the best attendance rate, the lowest failure percentage and the highest amount of wait-listed student because my classes were so popular. I didn’t test them on things we haven’t covered or at least pointed to. I didn’t lecture until they’re glazed over and drooling. And I didn’t make my students feel stupid.
Economics was hard enough. But I refused to be an asshole about it. Though, I wasn’t above getting a rise out of my students every now and then.
“Now that’s out of the way, I want everyone to have a safe and happy holiday and come back well prepared for the exam.” I paused, amping up the tension in the lecture hall. They knew what was coming. Well, they hoped they knew. I could see it on their faces. I took a five count and made all three hundred of my students’ day. “Now get out of here, I’m tired of looking at your faces.” I couldn’t help but grin as the whole class gasped and packed their things as quickly as they could. Some of the front row kids didn’t even bother packing, they just grabbed their shit and ran.
“You know why they run, right?” Jeannie asked after everyone cleared out.
“Because being confined to one spot for ninety minutes is a terrible way to learn?”
Jeannie shook her head at me. “Because they have lives they want to get to. People to shop for and things to get done before the holiday. Unlike some of us.”
“Speak for yourself,” I said, stuffing my notes and laptop in my briefcase. I grabbed my coat and looked back at my T.A.’s stunned expression. “Was there more? You can walk out with me if there’s more.”
“No more. I’m just surprised you’re leaving so quickly.”
“Jeannie, it’s the last class of the day. Tomorrow is the first day of winter break and I have someplace to be. Get out of here. Go get in trouble with those Mercer twins.” I said with a grin.
“Professor Webb!” Jeannie shrieked, hand flying to her mouth and flush exploding from her neckline. “I didn’t know you knew about that,” she whispered.
“Not much goes on in my lecture hall that I don’t know about,” I said with a wink. “Now go on. Go get some holiday ass.” I doubled checked the room and left my classroom and the NYU campus for the next ten days.
Only one thing stood between me and a glorious holiday getaway. Packing.
Chapter Three
Serene
“I’M SERIOUS, SERENE, I want you using those tickets. I see what you do with all the other thank you gifts you get, and mine won’t suffer the same fate, understood?�
� Mr. Reed looked down at me, feigning a serious expression as he shrugged on his coat.
I nodded, fully intent on leaving the tickets exactly where they were. He was my boss within these walls and that was it. He couldn’t tell me when to take a vaca...
“I’m not kidding, Serene. I see that look on your face. We’ve been working together too long for me not to know your ‘you’re not the boss of me’ face. And you’re right. I’m not the boss of your life. But hear this—if you don’t take those tickets home with you and at least look at places to go during the holiday, I will be personally offended.”
He reached over my desk, pulled the airfare tickets out of my cigar box and laid them in front of me.
“With all due respect, Mr. Reed, I just don’t see how I can drop everything for—”
He waved away my comment. “Rachel has already agreed to take care of the day-to-day things and any long-term projects you’re working on can most definitely wait until after Christmas. Jesus, Serene, you’re such a Scrooge. Just take a damn vacation. Go somewhere nice and tropical. Day drink on a beach. Bang a cabana boy.” The very moment he said it, Mr. Reed realized he’d crossed a line, sucking in his breath like he wanted to suck the words back into his face. “Oh, you know what I mean. Just take the damn tickets.”
Landon Reed and I had never once crossed over the business line. We weren’t playful, we didn’t flirt and we most definitely didn’t tell each other to get laid. I was too serious about my job, and he was too serious about his girlfriend. Not that the thought hadn’t crossed my mind, however briefly. The self-made billionaire was attractive enough but other than being grossly inappropriate, he just wasn’t my type.
Still, I couldn’t resist a chuckle at the discomfort his verbal blunder caused. “I’ll take them home. But I’m making no promises.” A slight smile pulled at the corners of my mouth as I shut down my computer for the day.
Christmas Crush (Holiday Studs Book 3) Page 1