My Boyfriend's Boss

by Cassandra Dee

  I sighed again. After aging out of foster care, we’d had to look for jobs immediately. Trina had gotten a job as a caterer, probably more based on her looks than any aptitude for serving others. She was eighteen and gorgeous. With luscious, fire-red hair and a smashing figure, she looked sexy in a maid’s outfit, complete with little apron. I’m sure the catering company made mad tips when Trina worked.

  And this guy Caleb. I sighed again. She’d met Caleb a few months ago at one of her jobs, which I’m sure was strictly against the rules. But rich guys are everywhere at these high-end events, and they’d struck up a “relationship.” I say that with air quotes because to me, Caleb and Trina were like two kids playing in love, with nary a care in the world. He’s the scion of some rich family, and had never had to earn anything on his own merits.

  “Trina, no,” I said exasperatedly. “I’m tired after working all day, and you’re only giving me two hours of notice. I can’t just drop everything to fill in for you!”

  “But Becca,” she said, big tears pooling in her eyes. “I think Caleb’s going to propose at the restaurant. It would be so horrible if I looked bad in the pictures!”

  I sighed again. God, she was dramatic. The thing was, they were both so impulsive that Caleb probably was going to propose … and they’d be married and divorced within a year. But I found myself caving in again. My little sister knew exactly which buttons to push.

  “Fine, fine,” I grumbled. “Just give me your outfit, I have nothing clean to wear.”

  “Thanks Becca!” she exclaimed, jumping up joyfully and giving me a hug. Of course, she was restored to happiness and light after getting her way … again. “I owe you a million. It’s a black-tie affair at the old Caldwell mansion, you’ll be in and out in a few hours, I promise.”

  I groaned internally again. Another fuddy-duddy black-tie affair where I’d be nothing more than furniture to the partygoers. Eff me.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Becca

  Oh shit. Trina’s outfit was ridiculous. We’re sisters, fraternal twins actually, but you’d never mistake us for one another. Trina got all the looks in the family. She’s tall and slender, with dramatic red hair and limpid blue eyes as clear as the sky. She’s often mistaken for a model or actress, someone with a dazzling future. I, on the other hand, have never been asked about a career in show biz.

  Sure, I have red hair too, but mine is more of a strawberry blonde, wavy and uncontrollable if I don’t give it a thorough brushing. Whereas Trina has blue eyes, I have caramel brown, and my nose has a sprinkling of freckles, my mouth too big for my pert face. Plus, I’m petite and curvy, if you know what I mean. So I was busting out of Trina’s dress in all the wrong places.

  The outfit was just too damn small for me. It was tight around the boob-section, hugged my ass and hips like a glove, and way too short just for starters. I tried to arrange the apron over the black fabric to be a little more decent, but that barely helped. The white frills reached mid-thigh at best, and the matching black pumps were borderline vulgar. Didn’t caterers usually have to wear sensible shoes?

  But what the hell, I just had to make it through a couple hours, and I had no suitable clothes of my own. I was a junior production assistant at the local TV station, and my wardrobe consisted of jeans and baseball caps most days. No little black dresses needed, no sirree.

  Sighing, I twisted my reddish blonde hair into a plait and placed the French maid’s cap onto my head, pinning it in place. I surveyed myself in the mirror once more, and gave another huge sigh. Trina was going to owe me big for this one.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Dominic

  I usually never went to these events, but the Caldwell benefit brought a grimace to my face. Some guttersnipe had hooked her claws into my younger brother Caleb, and I’d had a PI track her down. He’d said the slut would be working this function, and I planned on confronting her and sending her on her merry way.

  You see, we Phillips boys are constantly the target of gold-digging whores. Our money is old, our Long Island lineage esteemed, and the wrong girl has dollar signs in her eyes. Unfortunately, Caleb’s only twenty-one and hasn’t yet developed a radar for women obsessed by the family money.

  That’s where I come in. Caleb’s my younger bro by about fifteen years. When our parents died ten years ago, it’d been up to me to raise him. I’d put him in the best boarding schools, but made sure to visit as often as I could, developing a deep bond with my sibling. He trusted my word, his respect for me like a father more than a brother.

  But I hadn’t been able to get through to him with respect to this woman Trina.

  “How do you know her?” I’d asked Caleb.

  “I met her at a charity benefit,” he’d hemmed and hawed.

  “Which one?” I asked. “The Metropolitan Ball? The Zoological Society?”

  “Um, yeah the Zoo Society,” he said, but something about the way he said it told me he wasn’t being completely forthright.

  “Oh really? Is she from a nice family? Where did she go to school?” I’d pressed.

  “Well… um… she didn’t exactly go to college.”

  That wasn’t a problem. If you were artistic, college wasn’t a necessity. As a writer, I’d barely made it through Harvard myself, preferring to devote all my time to working on my first book.

  “Ok, well tell me more,” I’d insisted impatiently.

  “Fine … Trina was working the event,” he mumbled, averting his eyes.

  “She was staff?” I asked. “The host’s secretary? Personal assistant? What?”

  “She … she was the waitress,” he rushed out, still not meeting my eyes.

  Wow. So while on a job, a seductive server had managed to sink her claws into my impressionable younger brother. Ballsy. The worst part was that he’d completely fallen for it, hook line and sinker. But then again, at twenty-one, a guy’s not thinking with his brain … he’s thinking with his dick, if you know what I mean.

  But things had taken a much more serious turn recently.

  “Dominic, I’m going to propose to Trina,” he’d confided.

  “What?” I thundered. I’d never even met the girl due to my busy travel schedule promoting my latest book.

  “Yeah, I’m planning on giving her mom’s old engagement ring, you know the one with sapphires? I think she’ll love it,” he chirped.

  I was dumbstruck. At thirty-six, I hadn’t met a woman I even wanted to come close to marrying, and yet my twenty-one year old younger brother was about to throw away our mom’s ring on a worthless vamp. What the hell.

  “Think carefully,” I warned. “You’ve only known her … what, six months?”

  “Five,” he confirmed.

  “Then there’s no need to go so fast. You’re young, she’s young, what’s the rush?”

  “It just feels right,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “I know Trina’s the one.”

  “Give it some thought, little brother,” I urged him. “Mull it over a bit.”

  “No, Dominic. This is it. She’s the one. I’m going to propose later this week.”

  Holy shit! This week? My mind spun into action.

  “Ok, ok,” I said, holding my hands up in mock defeat. “Completely up to you, I support you a hundred percent.”

  “Thanks!” Caleb grinned happily, a big smile on his innocent face. But I wasn’t so sure. I was going to prove once and for all that this Trina chick was just after our family money.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Dominic

  I stepped into the ballroom at the old Caldwell Estate. The room was gorgeous, they’d filled it with flowers and candles, trying to raise money for children, cancer, animals, who knows. I didn’t care. I just had a mission to fulfill.

  Scanning the room, I watched as the staff finished setting up. I’d come fifteen minutes early on purpose because once the room filled, I’d never be able to find this tramp Trina. Trina the Tramp. That sounded about right.

  There were a doze
n or so men and women clad in black, putting out vases of fresh flowers. I could hear clattering coming from another room, and no doubt there were folks in the kitchen preparing food as well.

  Slowly, I eyed the servers before me. Nope, none of them could be the famed Trina. The PI had told me she was striking, unmistakable with bold red hair and a pale complexion. There was no one here who fit that description.

  I made my way into the hallway, and peered into the kitchen. Nope, even through the hustle and bustle, I could tell that no one fit Trina’s description.

  As I turned away, suddenly someone bumped into me, the feel of soft breasts pressed against my chest arousing and unmistakable. A tray of drinks clattered to the floor, and the girl was immediately on her knees, trying to mop up the spill.

  “I’m sorry!” she exclaimed, looking up at me from her prone position, futilely trying to wipe the floor with a napkin. “I’m so sorry sir!”

  I didn’t say anything because this girl had to be Trina. Wavy, golden-red hair was severely pinned back from her head, but that did nothing to detract from the perfection of her features. Big hazel eyes looked up at me, framed by long lashes, and she had a tiny nose and full, lush lips, perfect for kissing.

  Kissing? I shook my head in disgust. I was here to expose her for the gold-digger she was, not be put under her spell. But I could hardly tear my eyes away from the luscious, ripe figure under that ridiculous maid’s outfit. Huge, voluminous breasts swelled against the sultry vee of her décolletage, and an ample rear end was currently presented for my viewing pleasure as she tried to pick up the broken glass.

  “Stop, let me,” I ground out, pushing her away from the mess. “You’ll hurt yourself.” Her hands were small and white … what would they feel like on my body? I gave myself a mental shake again, disgusted with myself, and crouched down, using my handkerchief to pick up the largest pieces of glass.

  “Sir, please don’t,” she begged. “Management will be pissed if they see a guest cleaning up the mess. Please just let me, okay?” she said, reaching to take the shards from me.

  Sure enough, a huge gash opened on her left palm, bright red blood welling up and dripping heavily to the floor. Her face drained of all color, her eyes rolling back in her head at the sight of blood. Oh shit. I reached over and grabbed the girl before she fell over, my big arm under her breasts, securing her torso to mine as she lost consciousness. The very girl I’d come to throw off my brother’s trail was now sweetly ensconced against my body, totally dependent on my next move.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Becca

  I slowly came to, my vision clearing as I blinked. What had happened? I remembered bumping into a massive chest at the catering event, a tray of drinks in hand. The drinks had fallen to the floor, there’d been a mess of broken glass and liquid, and … oh right, I’d fainted after cutting my hand.

  But now my left hand was securely bandaged, not a drop of red in sight, and I was lying back on a comfy couch in an opulent library. They must have moved me to another room at the Caldwell Estate to get me out of the way. I looked around in amazement. Even in the darkened light, I could see that no expense had been spared with respect to the interior. Cavernous, eighteen foot walls were filled to the brim with books, and there was priceless artwork everywhere, antique furniture scattered about. I gasped in amazement, and a deep chuckle rang out from beside me.

  The man sat there, his bulk precariously perched on a dainty seventeenth-century chair. He looked at me with gleaming blue eyes, his dark hair rumpled despite the elegant tux he wore.

  “So the lady doesn’t like blood, eh?” he asked with an arched eyebrow.

  “I … um, no, I’ve never been able to handle it well,” I said, blushing. My dress had ridden up high on my thighs, and I subtly tried to pull it down, suddenly aware of how much skin I was exposing.

  But his eyes didn’t miss a thing. “Good thing I took first aid in high school,” he said. “We were able to stanch the blood, so by the time the doctor came, your hand had already stopped bleeding,” he said, nodding at my bandages.

  “Thank you so much!” I rushed, my head spinning as I sat up abruptly. “I really appreciate it, but I’ve got to get back to the event now, they’ll be short-staffed without me,” I fumbled, my words tumbling out.

  “Sit back, Trina,” he rumbled, pulling his chair closer. “Talk to me a bit.”

  How had he known my sister’s name? Oh right, the name tag on my dress. Duh. I could feel his eyes on me, sweeping over my figure, and another rush of heat ran through my body, settling deep in my cunny. I flushed again.

  “Thanks so much, sir,” I said, “But I’ve got to get back, they’re expecting me.”

  He leaned back in the chair with a satisfied smile.

  “Management’s not expecting anything,” he said. “I already told them you’d be taking the night off, and besides, we’re not at the Caldwell Estate anymore. I brought you to my home so that you could be seen by my personal doctor.”

  His personal doctor? How many people had a doctor on staff?

  But I babbled. “I totally appreciate it, but I should be getting home then. I have work tomorrow morning …” I trailed off before realizing my mistake. “Er, I mean, school tomorrow morning.”

  “Sure, no problem little one,” he rumbled. “I’ll take you home in a bit. But first tell me about yourself,” he drawled.

  Why would a man who was obviously powerful and wealthy want to talk with the help? But I was mesmerized by his beauty, the big bulk of his body heating the air around us, the air electrified as tingles ran down my spine.

  “I’m a caterer,” I fudged, putting myself in Trina’s shoes. “I attend school part-time at the local community college and am getting my degree in Creative Writing,” I said. “I’m hoping to graduate in a year or two, but we’ll see, I still need a lot of credits.”

  “Creative writing, eh?” he said, his eyes gleaming. “I may know something about that. And what do you write?”

  “Oh this and that,” I mumbled, looking down. “Nothing much.” The truth was, I did like to write in my free time, taking on editing jobs occasionally or writing a short story here and there. My stuff always got rejected though.

  “And is a pretty thing like you seeing anyone special?” he asked with an arched eyebrow.

  “No!” I said. “I’m so busy with work and school and everything, I barely have time to even sleep sometimes.” At least that part was true. Between the long hours at the TV station and my hopes to write professionally one day, there was little time for a social life. Most nights I dropped off to sleep after eating dinner standing by the sink.

  But a closed, shuttered look descended over his eyes. “Oh really, no boyfriend for a gorgeous girl like you?” he drawled lazily.

  I looked down at my hands. “No,” I said quietly. “No one, not now at least.”

  “Good then,” he said flatly. “Because you’re mine for tonight.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Dominic

  The bitch’s lies took my breath away. My brother was on the verge of proposing, yet at the first sign of a rich man with a big house, the tramp pretended that Caleb didn’t even exist. I was furious, but fought to mask my anger.

  “So you’re from here then, aren’t you?” I asked. “The catering company usually staffs its events with locals.”

  “Yeah, I’m a townie,” Trina said with a flush. “I grew up all over,” she said softly, “but my sister and I settled here because of the beautiful neighborhood.”

  “Well, let me show you around my place then,” I said. “It’s a historic estate, best known as the model for Jay Gatsby’s mansion in The Great Gatsby.”

  I was surprised by the genuine look of awe and interest that dawned in the girl’s eyes.

  “Really?” she breathed. “F. Scott Fitzgerald came to parties here? With Zelda?”

  “Sure did, honey,” I said, reaching out a big hand. “I’ll even show you the guest room where they p
robably slept.” Her hand was small and warm in mine, fitting better than I liked in my big grasp. Down boy! I reminded myself. This conniving bitch made a living seducing rich men, and I was playing right into her trap.

  And she was about to be double-crossed, because I intended to do some seducing of my own. After fucking the bitch, there was no way Caleb could look at her with the same eyes. The rose-rimmed glasses would be ripped off, hopefully for good.

  But in the meantime, why not enjoy myself? I had a beautiful girl who I wanted to fuck, and I might as well enjoy it.

  “Come on,” I rumbled, “I’ll show you the ballroom first.”

  I took her hand and led her to massive oak doors which creaked open when I thrust against them. She let out an audible gasp when I flicked on the light switch. Dozens of chandeliers shone, the crystal refracting like diamonds, casting the ballroom into a golden glow.

  “It’s gorgeous,” she breathed, her voice hushed.

  “No, you’re gorgeous,” I complimented. And it was true. She was curvy, creamy, and one hundred percent female. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on her.

  Trina flushed beautifully and turned her head to the side, partially hiding her face, which was surprising. Most gold-diggers are vampy and obvious, eating up compliments like candy. But Trina seemed demure, almost embarrassed by my compliment.

  I grabbed her hand and led her upstairs, throwing the door open to an elegant suite. Inside was a genuine four-poster bed and an antique ladies’ vanity, complete with old-time perfume bottles, a hand mirror, and spritzes. Trina laughed with joy and wandered into the room, picking up the mirror and looking into it.

  “Imagine,” she breathed. “Zelda Fitzgerald might have fixed her hair using this very mirror!”