by Whitney G.
“I already have your report.” He smiled, picking up a stack of sheets. “It doesn’t look like you stopped working on this at all. In fact, you seem to have updated it as recently as last night. I’m quite impressed with some of the changes. It’s even color-coded the way I like.”
“How did you get my report, Mr. Parker?”
“Mr. Parker?” He looked me up and down. “I’m back to being your boss now?”
“How did you get my damn report?”
“You left it on your cloud, on the company server that I own, so I logged in.”
“You called the tech department to hack into my account?” I crossed my arms. “And you honestly wonder why I want to quit?”
“No, I was planning to call the tech department to hack into your account, but I guessed your password right on my first attempt.” He smirked. “I personally thought you would come up with something far more creative than FuckMyBoss, but if that’s a fantasy you’d like me to finally help you fulfill, I’m more than happy to bend you over my desk right now.”
I ignored the wetness between my thighs and walked away, slamming his door on my way out.
SEVENTEEN (B)
Tara
Two weeks later
THIS ASSHOLE REALLY isn’t going to fire me or let me out of this contract.
I slumped in my office chair, shaking my head at my completed list of ways to get Preston to fire me. No matter what I attempted to do, he wouldn’t allow himself to get too angry, and he was always ten steps ahead of me in the end. He also had the audacity to look sexier than sin with each passing day, and although I wanted to deny it, the sexual tension between us was now so thick and palpable, that I was sure that everyone in the office could feel it.
To make matters worse, now that Sweet Seasons was operating in the basement, every employee I ran into couldn’t help but stop and tell me how “thankful” they were for me suggesting the idea to Mr. Parker. I wanted to correct them, to say to them it was a twisted play on his behalf, but part of the licensing agreement called for every cup to have the words Courtesy of Tara Lauren, EA to Preston Parker printed on its side. There was no point in attempting to explain it to anyone.
I picked up my notes for my mock presentation and groaned. A part of me wanted to skip it and go home, but another part of me actually wanted to help him close the deal he’d been chasing since we met.
I’ll get there when I feel like it...
I looked at my employee contract for the umpteenth time, rereading all the lines I’d missed over the years, hoping for some type of loophole.
“There are no loopholes.” The deep sound of Preston’s voice made me look up. “If you’re going to do most of the talking in our London meeting this weekend, I would suggest heading upstairs for your mock presentation.”
I looked down at my contract again, finishing a paragraph before standing to my feet. “You know, if I was a CEO and I had an employee who hated me, I would just let her go.”
“Miss Lauren, if I did that I wouldn’t have any employees left.”
“You’re not going to ask me why I want to quit after all this time? You’re not interested in my reasoning?”
“You can’t quit, so your reasoning is irrelevant.”
“You’ve never said the words ‘thank you’ to me once.” I stepped closer to him. “Not one goddamn time.”
“Neither have you.”
“What?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “You think I should be thanking you? For what?”
“For not pressing charges against you for all the breakfasts you stole, for neglecting to file credit fraud for all the free coffee you’ve covered for people at Sweet Seasons behind my back.” He narrowed his eyes at me, too. “For hiring you when you had no real hotel experience. I had a file cabinet full of qualified applicants.”
“That you’d probably already ran through because you’re an asshole boss.”
“I’m not done listing all the things I’ve done for you.”
“You honestly think there’s more?”
“You have the highest salary, the most benefits—”
“The most headaches, the worst insomnia, the highest stress level.” I gritted my teeth. “So, yes, you’re right. Thank you. Thank you so much.” I rolled my eyes and walked away from him, ignoring his calls for me to come back. I headed straight for the conference room, ready to get this mock presentation over with so I could at least enjoy tonight in my own bed before being confined to yet another unwanted business trip with him.
I took my place at the front of the full twenty-person boardroom table, waiting for Preston to arrive, ignoring the fact that his face was red.
I was more than prepared for his rude behavior since mock presentations were always brutal. No one spoke except the presenter and him, and his feedback was often beyond harsh.
“Good morning, everyone.” I started speaking the second he sat down. “My name is Tara Lauren, and I’m very happy to be here. I’m the executive assistant to Mr. Parker and the lead project manager for these potential negotiations.”
“I think you should just lead with being the project manager.” Preston interrupted me, his glare glacial. “Seeing as though you’re not actually happy to be here, and you just told me that you’re not happy as my executive assistant.”
“With all due respect Mr. Parker, that’s not what I said.”
“That’s what you wrote.”
I clenched my fists at my sides and cleared my throat.
Don’t let him get to you. Don’t let him get to you.
“Good morning, everyone.” I gave a fake smile. “My name is Tara Lauren, and I’m the project manager for these potential negotiations. I’m honored to be here.”
“If you were honored, then you wouldn’t be trying to leave,” Preston mumbled under his breath.
“I would like to start my presentation by telling you, Mr. Von Strum and company, why you should consider selling your company to us.” I clicked a remote, and the screen behind me lit up with my Power-Point presentation. “Even though our brands are different, I feel as though we’ve come up with a great solution to handling the blend.” I changed the slide. “So, first, I’d like to discuss our differences.”
“We’re already well aware of our differences, Miss Lauren.” Preston leaned back in his chair. “How about you start with your solutions to finally fixing them?”
“I’m not sure our differences can ever be fixed.”
“Excuse me?”
I took a long sip of my water. “My apologies.” I clicked to the next slide. “I’d like to start with the employee integration.”
“No, start with the financial integration.”
I resisted the urge to scream and clicked through to that part of the presentation. “Financial Integration. We’ve put together a team of accountants from an independent firm to oversee our plans, and once that’s complete—”
“It’s already complete, Miss Lauren.” He looked angrier than I’d ever seen him before. “Which is why you’re giving this presentation. Although at the rate you’re going, we may need to hire an actress to play your part.”
“I think that’s more than fine, as long as we can hire someone who knows how to shut the fuck up to play yours.”
A collective gasp filled the room, and someone dropped a glass to the floor, shattering it against a sudden silence.
Preston blinked, then he leaned forward in his chair. “What did you say to me, Miss Lauren?” His voice was terse.
I said nothing. I was in utter disbelief that I’d said those words aloud. In front of everyone.
“I need everyone except for Miss Lauren to leave the room.” He glared at me. “Now.”
Everyone made a beeline for the exit doors, forcing papers and glasses to wobble in their wake.
I stood rooted to my spot, feeling the weight of Preston’s gaze as he rose to his feet. He strode over to the door and locked it, and then he slowly stepped closer to me.
“What did you say to me?” He took the papers from my hand and set them on the table. “I need you to repeat it.”
I swallowed. “I don’t recall stuttering.”
He raised his eyebrow. “For your sake, it would be much better if you did.”
“Seeing as though I can’t quit and you clearly won’t fire me, I don’t see how.” I stepped back, and he stepped forward, and within seconds I was up against the wall. “I think the only thing you’re upset about is me being rude to you in front of your executive team.”
“I’m upset about a lot of things,” he said, clenching his jaw. “And I’m not going to tolerate them anymore.”
“Then accept my two weeks’ notice.”
“Miss Lauren,” he said, speaking slowly and ignoring my comment. “I’m going to give you one last chance to redo this presentation today, and when I do—”
“I’ll say the same thing, in the same way, if you interrupt me again.”
“I am going to interrupt you again, especially if you come off like the ungrateful assistant I haven’t been more than generous with for two years. An ungrateful assistant who hates her job so much, yet she keeps showing up every day.”
“She’s legally bound to do so.”
“She’s not personally bound to do so.”
Before I could get another word out, his lips crashed into mine, and my arms went around his neck. He slid his hands around my thighs and lifted me up, carrying me to the conference table. My ass hit the cold surface when he set me down, and he kept his lips attached to mine.
Our kiss was wild and frantic, passionate and reckless. As his hand slid up my dress, I slowly unfastened his tie. I tried to unbutton his shirt next, but he pushed me down against the table, so my back was pressed against the glass, so he was standing between my legs.
Bending down over me to claim my mouth again, his tongue danced circles against mine. He slid his hands over my stomach, letting his fingers wander down to my panties.
“I prefer when you don’t wear these.” He ripped them off and slipped two fingers inside of me.
“Ahhh...” I moaned as he pushed them deeper, slowly toying with my pleasure by testing how far they could go.
“You fucking hate me?” he whispered.
“Yes...” My voice was hoarse. “Yes.”
“You sure about that?”
“One hundred percent.”
He pulled his fingers out of me and bit my bottom lip. Hard.
Glaring at me, he slid his hands against my sides and spread my legs, pinning down my thighs to the table. “I want you to tell me how much you hate me after I’m done eating your pussy.” He buried his face against my pussy and flicked his tongue against my clit.
My hips bucked against his mouth as he darted his tongue faster, and I couldn’t hold back my moans if I tried.
I grabbed his hair, gripping the strands in utter shock and pleasure. I cried out for him to slow down, but his tongue only moved faster. Sucking my clit into his mouth, he twirled his tongue in a steady, sensuous rhythm that made my toes curl.
Groaning, he kissed my pussy like he kissed my mouth, dominating every move and devouring my lips without restraint.
“Ohhh. Oh, God...” My back arched off the glass, and my pussy throbbed against his mouth. “Please...Slow...Slow down.”
He refused. Instead, he slipped two of his fingers inside of me again—pushing me closer to the edge with two separate rhythms.
My clit swelled against his lips, and I tried to fight the tremors that were building inside of me, but it was no use. As he continued his kisses, the tremors tripled in force, and I couldn’t hold back anymore.
I screamed loudly as orgasm after orgasm wracked through my body. “Shit...”
I thought that he would stop—give me a chance to recover, but he lifted my right leg and tossed it over his shoulder. Then he bent low once more, devouring me all over again.
A soft knock came to the door as I was mid-bliss, but Preston continued sucking on my clit, shushing me in between breaths.
The knock came harder the next time, accompanied with a deep, “It’s important, Mr. Parker.”
“Give me one second.” He tore his mouth away from my clit, glaring at me like before. Stepping back, he helped me off the table and readjusted my dress and smoothed my hair before addressing himself.
Looking me over one last time, he walked to the door and opened it.
“Yes?” he asked.
“Mr. Parker, you have an emergency call. I’ve told them to hold on twice, but they say it can’t wait.”
“I’ll be right there.” He shut the door again and walked over to me, pushing a few stray hairs into place.
“We need to finish this,” he said, trailing his finger against my chest. “Stay here.”
I waited an entire hour, and he never came back. He only sent me an email.
SUBJECT: LONDON TRIP.
Miss Lauren,
Something unfortunate has come up, so you’ll need to go on the trip without me.
Your presentation was stellar. (The one between your legs, that is. The one about this next business deal still needs work.)
Preston Parker,
CEO & Owner, Parker International
EIGHTEEN
Preston
I RUSHED TO MY OFFICE and damn near turned around once I saw who was sitting in front of my desk. It was Mr. and Mrs. Von Strum, who, true to form, instead of staying in London to meet me, had to play games and meet me here first.
I knew this shit wasn’t an emergency.
I contemplated calling Tara in here for this. She was far better at dealing with people’s mind games and keeping a straight face. Then again, the quicker I got this over with, the quicker I could return to her in the boardroom.
“Good afternoon.” I held back a groan as I took a seat behind my desk. “What’s the emergency?”
“We wanted to let you know that regardless of the London meeting we have lined up for this weekend, we’re still not sold on this deal,” Mr. Von Strum said.
“Do they not have telephones in London?” I asked. “You could’ve called.”
“We prefer the personal approach,” he said. “We’re just not sure that you’re the right guy to hand our brand over to.”
“And why is that?”
“Because you’re a heartless asshole.” His wife hissed. “If we cracked your chest open right now, I’m sure we’d find a wallet instead of a heart.”
“Do you think the wallet would be an Armani or a Gucci?”
She narrowed her eyes at me, and her husband clasped her hand. “We just want to make sure that you won’t turn our brand into an extended chain of your gaudy, overpriced resorts.”
“I’ll be turning your cheap, family brand into a five-star luxury resort with budget-friendly amenities. There’s nothing gaudy or overpriced about any of my hotels.”
“You charge twelve dollars for a bottle of water in the guest rooms.”
“Because we fly it in from Fuji.” I clenched my jaw. “That shit isn’t free.”
“Yes, well—” Mr. Von Strum took off his reading glasses. “I’ve never noticed a true difference in the taste. All bottled waters have always tasted the same to me. Nonetheless, if we ever do get to the final deal table with you, we want you. to keep all of our employees, and we want them to keep their benefit packages. We also want—”
I tuned him out. Two years of chasing this man and I was still in the same place I was on day one. And his intrusion had forced me to the same position I was on day one with Tara as well.
By the time I returned to listening to the conversation and quietly waging war against him for interrupting my session with Tara, he was quoting some personal philosophy.
“What are you trying to say, Mr. Von Strum?” I wanted to get back downstairs as soon as possible. “Get to the point.”
“I would like more time to consider your offer and entertain other buyers. We’ll see if any of our fami
ly members want to take a chance on running things.”
“Fair enough,” I said, standing and extending my hand. “This so-called emergency meeting is over.”
“Thank God for that.” His wife scoffed, rejected my hand. “For the record, I would much rather prefer to talk to Miss Lauren from here on out.”
“Her answers will be the same as mine.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Mr. Von Strum said, shunning my handshake as well. “She’s far more human than you’ll ever be. “Pardon my language, but I’m sure your parents aren’t too proud of the asshole you’ve become.”
“My parents are dead, but I’m sure they’re still looking down right now, feeling quite proud of the asshole I became.”
He gave me a slight look of sympathy, looking as if he wanted to apologize, but his wife pulled him out of the room.
“George,” I said, looking at him. “That meeting was the textbook definition of ‘not an emergency.’ You could’ve handled that on your own.”
“They showed up seconds after I called you,” he said, heading to the door. “The emergency is on line one. The person says it’s a family matter.”
Confused, I waited until he shut the door and picked up the phone. “This is Preston Parker. This better be important.”
“It is, sir,” a deep voice said. “But I have to tell you, this is a call I hate to make.”
“Yet here we are.”
“There was an accident earlier this morning on the Triborough Bridge, sir. Your brother, Weston Parker, has passed away.”
Silence.
I wasn’t quite sure what to say. I pulled out my cell phone and typed “Triborough Bridge morning car accident” into the browser, and a full page of articles popped up. I couldn’t bring myself to click on any of them.
“His fiancée passed away in the accident as well, sir,” he said. “Do you by chance have contact information for her?”
I didn’t even know he had a fiancée. “No.”
“Well, I know you two were probably close—”
“We weren’t.” I cut him off. “We weren’t close at all.”