by Kira Bloom
His Good Girl
Kira Bloom
Copyright © 2019 by Kira Bloom
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in book review.
Created with Vellum
Contents
1. Winter
2. Winter
3. Dmitry
4. Winter
5. Winter
6. Winter
7. Dmitry
8. Winter
9. Winter
10. Dmitry
11. Winter
12. Dmitry
13. Winter
14. Winter
AUCTIONED TO THE BILLIONAIRE
Books by Kira Bloom
About the Author
1
Winter
Breathe, Winter. Just breathe. You’ve got this. It’s just your future on the line.
Hauling in a deep breath, I swept my gaze around the upscale reception area that I sat in. The room was filled with metal-framed furnishings and painted a cool, neutral shade of gray. Colorful abstract paintings hung on the walls. Everything here was sharp, sleek, and modern, which of course, made me feel just a little more out of place.
I mean, sure I was dressed as professionally as I could manage—in a black pencil skirt and emerald green ruffle blouse—but just about everything that I wore was used and worn. I’d gotten my top at a thrift store fill-your-bag-for-10-dollars event and the skirt belonged to my roommate. Since Khloe was much thinner than me, the garment was snug around my ass, but nothing in my own closet seemed classy enough for this place. Even the high heels that I’d stuffed my feet into were secondhand and scuffed.
I’d tried to fix them up with black nail polish, but I was sure Ms. Priss behind the reception desk had spotted every single flaw the second I walked through the door.
Patting my hand against my hair to smooth back any dark blonde strands that might have escaped my bun, I darted my eyes to the receptionist guarding the entrance to the offices of Maslow Architecture. She was elegantly dressed, with dark-rimmed designer glasses and her long red hair loose and flowing around her slim shoulders. She ignored me, her focus on the computer screen in front of her as well as the phone that seemed to be ringing nonstop.
“Thank you for calling Maslow Architecture. This is Fiona, how may I direct your call?”
I mouthed the woman’s greeting silently as she spoke the exact same words for about the tenth time in the twenty-minutes I’d been waiting. Anxiously. Because every second that went by, the ball of dread in the pit of my stomach tightened a little more.
Releasing a shaky sigh, I peeked down at the papers clutched in my hands. Even though I had already submitted my resume and cover letter, I brought copies along with me just in case. I couldn’t and wouldn’t let anything catch me by surprise today. With everything that was on the line, I had probably over-prepared for this interview.
But I had to get this job.
The phone rang again, but when Fiona answered, she didn’t use her usual spiel. Instead, her spine stiffened. “Hello?” Her eyes flicked toward me before dropping back to her computer as she obediently bobbed her head. “Yes. Yes, sir, understood. I’ll send her back right now.”
I scooted to the edge of my seat as she hung up the phone and looked at me with a polite but disinterested expression.
“You can go back now. All the way to the end of the hall.” She nodded in that direction.
“O-okay. Thank you.” I stood, gathering my papers and slinging my leather satchel over my shoulder. I hurried past her desk, casting a shaky smile, but she turned her attention back to the ringing phone.
“Thank you for calling Maslow Architecture. This is Fiona, how may I direct you call?”
Her voice faded into the background as I moved further down the hall. I passed multiple glass-walled offices and conference rooms. There were people in most of them, busy with whatever it was that an architecture firm did in the day-to-day grind. No one paid the least bit of attention to me as I hurried by, which I was grateful for.
Because if they did, I might just lose all my nerve.
Reaching the end of the hall, I stopped in front of two large black metal doors. There were floor-to-ceiling windows on either side, but they were fogged over so that I couldn’t see into the office beyond. A small desk sat empty to the right of the doors, and I assumed that would be where Mr. Maslow’s PA would eventually take up residence.
Where I will take up residence, I corrected myself, my inner voice brimming with false strength and optimism. I will get this job!
On large brass plates in the middle of both doors was engraved Dmitry Maslow, CEO.
Okay. Here we go. Don’t fuck this up.
I glanced to the left and right, shifted my papers into one arm, then reached out to knock on one of the doors. I held my breath as I waited for a response.
“Come in,” a deep, gravelly voice called out, and a shiver raced down my back.
What the hell was that?
Giving myself a little shake, I reached out and opened the door. Head high and shoulders back, I strutted inside with five times more confidence than I actually felt. The office was large, as I’d expected of the firm’s CEO, and decorated in the same sleek, modern style as the waiting room. There were a few personal touches here and there, however. Several shiny awards sat displayed on floating shelves on my left. The wall to my right was all windows overlooking downtown Boston, and in front of me sat a huge desk made of wood and metal.
Behind the desk sat who I assumed was Mr. Maslow. His chair was turned away from me, and he was reading some thick document. I couldn’t see his face, but his hair was jet black and wavy, and I could tell he was a big man.
Coming to a stop in front of the desk, I cleared my throat to get his attention.
“Just one moment, Ms. Rivers,” he murmured without turning around. “Please, have a seat.”
Once again, I trembled at the sound of his voice. It was gruff and rich, and I detected just a hint of what I assumed was a Russian accent. It was a voice made for the bedroom. For commanding and coaxing dirty deeds in the dark.
Well, hell. That went filthy fast.
I quickly pushed the inappropriate thought from my mind. I needed to be on my game and couldn’t let myself be distracted by a sinful voice.
Mr. Maslow lowered his papers the next moment and swiveled his chair around to face me.
And I lost my breath.
2
Winter
Fuck. Me.
If I thought his voice was delicious, it was nothing—and I do mean nothing—compared to the man himself. He. Was. Gorgeous. Icy blue eyes narrowed at me as his sharp jaw flexed. He had a shadow of a beard as dark as his hair and soft lips which seemed at odds with his otherwise hard features. His shoulders were broad, and his arms bulging with muscle. I had the feeling that if he were standing, he would tower over my five-foot-three stature.
“Ms. Rivers,” he drawled, gesturing to the seats across from his, “I said you can sit.”
I blinked, too late realizing I’d been staring at him with my mouth wide open. My face was on fire as I scurried to settle in one of the chairs.
“Um … hello. I’m sorry, sir, I just …” Can’t breathe, can’t think clearly, because—holy shit—you are stunning.
Everything a man was supposed to be and more.
“Take a breath, Ms. Rivers,” he ordered, though in a gentler voice than before. “There is no reason to be nervous.”
Flicking the tip of my tongue over my lips, I moved my head up and down slowly. “Y
es, sir.”
The muscles in his broad shoulders tensed. Glancing down at his immaculate desk, he picked up a single sheet of paper and scanned through it before clearing his throat. “Your resume is very interesting, Ms. Rivers. I can’t say I expected a Philosophy major from Boston College to be interested in a personal assistant job. Especially at an architectural firm. Tell me, what drew you to the position?”
Desperation.
Obviously, I couldn’t say that. Couldn’t divulge my real motives, or risk losing just about everything I cared about. Still, I was good at reading people, and Mr. Maslow read as someone who appreciated blunt honesty. So, if not the whole truth, maybe he would be more willing to give me a chance if I gave some of it.
“To be honest, there isn’t a lot of work out there for a Philosophy major with no Masters or PhD. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I’m in need of just about any job right now because I have bills that can’t wait.”
His beautiful blue eyes narrowed to thin slits. “I see.”
Shit! He doesn’t sound impressed.
“Bu-but I’ve always had an interest in architecture.” Not totally a lie. At one point, when I was young, I’d thought being an architect was the coolest job ever. Then I realized the woefully limited extent of my design talent. Clearing my throat, I continued, “When I saw the position online, I thought it would be a great opportunity to get involved in the field despite not having the formal training and education specific to it.”
He didn’t respond immediately. He rested his elbows on his desk and clasped his hands together in front of his full lips. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing his forearms. They were so muscular that I could see veins bulging beneath his bronze skin. I was a sucker for forearms, and his were exceptional.
Just like the rest of him.
“Ms. Rivers, let me cut to the chase. I do not care whether you are interested in architecture or not. You’re obviously intelligent, and I have no doubt you’ll pick up the parts of the business I need you to know quickly. My personal assistant will not only be involved in my business, however. I need someone I can count on, who won’t balk those times I call outside of work hours. Who will do what I ask, when I ask, without question or hesitation.”
“Yes, si—” I started, but the words died on my lips at the sharp look he gave me.
“I am a very particular man, and I like things done a certain way. I need whoever I hire to understand and respect that. It will not be an easy job, as I am not, nor will I ever be, an easy man to work for. But if you think you can handle it, the position is yours.”
Wait, what?
I probably looked like a fool when I blinked rapidly. “I … just like that?”
The corner of his mouth quirked as he nodded. “Just like that.”
“Why?” I knew it was probably an idiot move to question such a fortunate turn of events, but I couldn’t help myself. This man didn’t know me. Before today, we’d never spoken—his HR department had reached out to me with the interview request. All he had to go off regarding my character and abilities was a resume and a cover letter, and even those probably weren’t the best since I couldn’t afford a resume service.
Why did he just blindly believe I was good for this job?
Leaning back in his chair, he studied me for several moments, the intensity behind his stare turning my breath into ragged wisps.
“I have rather fine-tuned instincts when it comes to people, Ms. Rivers, and those instincts tell me to hire you,” he said at last. “If you do not think you’re capable, you simply have to say so and be on your way. The choice is, ultimately, yours.”
No, it’s not. I have no choice.
If I had a choice, I’d be enrolled in grad school right now. I wouldn’t live in a shitty apartment or need to wear other people’s old clothes. I wouldn’t be going home to a dinner of instant ramen, or spend the night praying I could pay all the bills that were piling up on my kitchen table. I would be able to give my mother the home she deserved after all she sacrificed for me.
If I had a choice, I wouldn’t be in this office, trying to get hired for a job I didn’t want.
I didn’t tell him any of that, of course.
Instead, I pasted on a cheery smile and said, “I believe I’m more than capable, sir. I gladly accept the position.”
He didn’t smile or move to shake my hand. He simply nodded.
“Very good. You start tomorrow. Eight o’clock sharp. See Fiona, the receptionist, on your way out for further instructions.”
“Yes, sir.” Taking that as my dismissal, I stood, collecting my satchel and the paperwork I hadn’t needed after all. Turning, I began moving toward the door.
“Oh, Ms. Rivers, one more thing.”
I stopped and glanced back at him, a frown tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Sir?”
He was still leaning back in his chair, his posture nonchalant, his fingers steepled together against his lips, but his frigid blue gaze was hard.
“The next time you question my motives, know there will be consequences. I expect total obedience from now on.”
His words should have offended me. Instead, heat rushed through my body, and I felt a tingling between my legs that made my cheeks—hell, my entire body—catch fire. I didn’t say anything in reply. I couldn’t seem to muster any words.
Breaking away from his powerful gaze, I pushed through the door and scurried out of the office without a backwards glance.
3
Dmitry
Winter Rivers was not at all what I expected.
Not one fucking bit.
When I thought of a person who’d studied a subject like philosophy, I never imagined a sweet, curvy little blonde with big amber eyes and an ass that could bring any sane man to his knees, but that’s precisely what she was.
I still sat in my chair, glaring at the door she’d just escaped through. My mind was a whirl and my cock was rock hard. It was why I hadn’t stood to shake her hand when I’d offered her the job.
Ten minutes with that woman had left me hungry for more. Had left me wanting to peel away those snug layers of clothing to get a taste of what was beneath.
Her resume had intrigued me. I couldn’t say for sure why, but I’d come back to it again and again when personally deciding who to interview. Why would a woman like Winter want to work in this firm? The pay was good, that was true, and the benefits generous, but it was obvious this wasn’t where she wanted to be. Yet, there was a desperation about her, as if she had to get this job, no matter what. I’d read it between the lines of her cover letter and seen it on her face when she’d sat across from me.
So, I’d offered her the position because curiosity had won. I wanted to see why she needed it so badly. Well, that was part of the reason, anyway. I also wanted to fuck her.
Hard.
I relished control in my business as well as my bed. I’d developed a knack through the years in spotting women who would enjoy my commands. One look at Winter Rivers, and I could tell she was one. I didn’t think she realized it yet, but I hadn’t been willing to let her go until she did.
I knew it was wrong. I knew I’d be crossing countless lines if I acted on my desire for her while she was under my employ. A flash of conscience had struck me as she’d gotten up to leave, and I’d almost rescinded my offer. When she’d turned back to me, however, and I took in the hope in her eyes, I’d squashed any lingering hesitations.
Then, there was the sight of her ass in that too-tight skirt as she rushed off.
The image of her thrown over my knee flooded my mind, and I’d clenched my fists on my desk, fighting every instinct in me screaming to chase after her. I’d had to remind myself that I didn’t need to catch her. Not right now.
She’d be back.
I reached across my desk to hit the speaker button on my phone, then the speed dial. It rang three times before it was answered.
“Yes, Mr. Maslow?” a deep voice spoke, his word barely discernible aroun
d the thick Russian accent.
“Ivan, I need a favor.” I didn’t often call my father’s old contacts, but occasionally I found myself in need of help just outside of the law. “I need a background check on a new employee.”
There was a pause, and then, “Is this not something your own HR department could handle?”
“Not this time.” I didn’t want the standard background check of Ms. Rivers. I wanted to know everything I could about her. Every dirty secret she held. If I was going to try and seduce her, and that was sure as fuck going to happen, I needed to know who I was dealing with first. “I need something a little more … thorough than what my HR department is capable of.”
Or would approve of.
Ivan chuckled darkly. “Very well. What is her name?”
“How do you know it’s a woman?”
“There are two reasons you would ask me this favor. The first is that you are wishing to kill a man. The second is that you are wishing to fuck a woman. You are no killer, Dmitry, so it must be a woman.”
I arched a brow. “Very astute of you, my friend.”
“Her name, then.”
“Winter Rivers. I’ll email you more of her details.”
“I will have the information collected by the end of the week.”
“Thank you, Ivan. That will be fine.”
I hung up the call and leaned back in my chair, my thoughts consumed by silky blond hair and the warm, tantalizing scent of Winter’s perfume. No woman had caught my interest so quickly or thoroughly before. I was eager to find out what was so special about her.
Then, I’d fuck her until I’d had my fill, and move on from her just like I had countless times before.