The Boss (Billionaires of Club Tempest #1)

by Sloane Hunter

  And just like that, Sam seemed human again to me. What a strange man. As much as I wanted to be completely professional, I couldn’t help myself. “Any good ones about me?” I asked.

  He laughed, a genuine one at the memory. “Oh god, yes,” he said. “Let’s see. Well, first off there’s the ever present rumor that we’re sleeping together which has dogged every assistant I’ve ever had, so don’t worry about it.”

  Only this time it’s accurate, I thought, but didn’t comment.

  “But,” he continued, “apparently a group at the office thinks you’re a spy sent from a rival company in New Orleans to steal our contractors.”

  “A spy? What?” I had to laugh again. It was too ridiculous. “Why on Earth would they think that?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s the accent.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I don’t even have a Louisiana accent! It’s such a Yankee generalization to assume we all talk the same.”

  He grinned. “Yankee?”

  “You know what you are. But anyway that’s insane someone’s spreading that around about me.” I’d bet two hundred buck that someone was Harriet and her friends, but whatever.

  Sam’s voice became serious. “I don’t know, Beck. Isn’t that exactly what a spy would say?”

  I gave him a light shove. The moment I touched him, I felt my heart seize up. I hadn’t planned on doing that. I shouldn’t have touched him. But if Sam had any problem with what I’d done, he didn’t react, just stumbled playfully to the side and grinned over at me.

  “No, you’re not a spy,” he said. “A real spy wouldn’t make waves.”

  “I’m making waves?” I asked. With you or with the company?

  He nodded. “You’d have gone to lunch with those gossipy girls every day or to drinks afterward. No spy alienates a source like Harriet Taylor. Besides, if I were to guess, I’d say you weren’t a very good liar.”

  “I’m a perfectly fine liar!” I said. “And why do you say that anyway?”

  “I—”

  Sam stopped talking as Mason, Henry, and the girls came to a halt in front of a grand, but unmarked building off a quiet street. If I’d been passing by, I’d have assumed that it was a section of expensive apartment buildings and not given it a second thought. But Mason opened the oak-handled door and gestured for us to go inside. Past the doors was an entry room so small the six of us all barely fit inside.

  “Good evening, Eli,” Mason said. “We have a few guests tonight.”

  Eli, a stoic man in a dark gray three-piece suit nodded and said, “Very good, Mr. Reads. Good evening, Mr. Blackburn, Mr. Callahan.” He opened the door for us and Sam gestured for me to enter first into the clubhouse.

  Mickey Mouse had shit on the Tempest. The entry hall was rounded and tall, reaching up four stories with the banisters of the above floors twisting around above us. The place had the feel of a gilded age manor, with handcrafted furniture and landscape paintings adorning the walls.

  The guys led us up a twisting dark wood staircase carpeted in red with gold trim to the third floor and down a hallway lined with doors. Here and there I heard the murmur of soft conversation and occasionally the crackle of a fire. Finally we came to a stop at a nondescript door that Henry pushed back to reveal a good-sized room with a bar along one wall and a fireplace in the corner surrounded by chairs. A pool table was set with snooker balls and a large, round table set with six chairs took up most of the middle of the floor.

  “Do you own this room?” Kylie asked, amazed. We’d passed through the clubhouse in awed silence, but here in the safety of the private room, it felt appropriate to speak.

  “We rent it from the building,” Mason corrected. “It’s where we meet before going out, or just come to hang out after a long day of work.”

  “It’s amazing,” Jordan said in wonder.

  I was amazed too, but less so about the clubhouse than I was at Sam. I’d spent so much time comparing Sam to Troy, I’d started to assume that their wealth was somewhat comparable, just on different scales. What Troy could buy and do in a small town like Gainesville, Sam could do in a big city like New York. Now it became clear: there was absolutely no comparing the two. If Troy was a drop of water, then Sam was an ocean.

  What this meant for my view of Sam, I wasn’t sure and that left me feeling off-balance. It was an uncomfortable feeling.

  I looked around the room, running my eyes over the liquor on the shelf, over the snooker balls positioned on the table. Everything looked expensive and well-made. I was a little self-conscious of the dress I was wearing, another spare from Alice’s friend.

  Mason got right to the point. “Well,” he said to Jordan in that silky tone of his, “if you think this is impressive, you should see the roof.” It wasn’t very subtle.

  “I’d like to check it out,” she said and Mason nodded toward the door. They left and I had a feeling we wouldn’t be seeing either of them for the rest of the night. That was too bad. With all the excitement, I hadn’t gotten to talk to Mason about his art at all, and I was hoping to here. Oh well, maybe I’d see him again if he was so close with Sam.

  I turned back just in time to catch the glance Henry shot Sam. Sam rolled his eyes.

  “Wanna give them some privacy?” he asked me.

  I didn’t see why Kylie should get to stay and we had to go, but I wasn’t going to fight it. I couldn’t imagine ever being back in a place like this, and I was fine with getting to see more of it before I was kicked out.

  Sam and I left the room, continuing down the hall away from the way we came in.

  “So who else comes here?” I asked before awkwardness descended.

  Sam thought and said, “I’ve seen the mayor here before. Players for the Yankees and the Knicks. Uh, various politicians and a few actors you’d probably know.”

  “So all men?” I asked.

  “I don’t think there are any rules about it. You just have to be invited by an existing member. I suppose it’s informal, just like having to be either wealthy or significant. Preferably both.”

  “Sounds a bit stodgy,” I said.

  “Oh it definitely is,” he said, a slight smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. His hair had gotten tousled trying to corral Mac and it lay uncharacteristically untidy. It made him look roguish and far removed from the slicked-back, stiff-backed businessman who was my boss. “But I don’t really talk to any of the other members. Just the guys.”

  He stopped at a door that was slightly different from the others, mostly in that there was a large amount of space between it and the next. Sam pushed it open to reveal a beautiful library. The room was two-stories tall with shelves reaching to the ceiling, tables for study and work, and an electric fireplace crackling surrounded by easy chairs and a large leather couch. It was the most comfortable looking room I’d ever seen in my life. I wanted to flop down on the couch, pick a book, and stay there forever.

  “Wow,” I said, looking up and around at the towering shelves of books. “This is incredible. How big is this place?”

  Sam walked to the fireplace and stood in front of the light, tucking his hands into his pockets. “I don’t know honestly. They did seem to fit a hell of a lot into a deceptively small building.”

  “Maybe it’s magic,” I suggested, coming to join him in the circle of chairs.

  He scoffed. “I don’t believe in magic.”

  “Well you also don’t seem to believe in love so maybe you’re not the measure to go by.” I’d meant it as a tease, but the words came out more seriously than I’d intended.

  He looked a bit surprised that I’d brought up our earlier conversation, but he didn’t seem angry about it. “I never said I didn’t believe in love,” he said. “I just said it wasn’t important.”

  “I don’t know how you could believe something like that,” I said softly.

  “I suppose I’ve been doing just fine without it in my life.” He immediately looked like he regretted his wo
rds. “I mean, I have love. I love my business, my friends to some extent. Not Henry really, but Mac and Mason.”

  “So it is important,” I pressed. “You do have it somewhere. Even if it isn’t with a woman.”

  His full lips curled into a crooked smile. “Maybe. Did anyone ever tell you that you should have been a lawyer?”

  “No,” I replied, “but someone did say recently that I was a bad liar so maybe that’s not the right path.” I crossed my arms. “You never did tell me why you said that.”

  Sam considered his words for a moment and then took two steps closer to me. They bridged the gap between us and each footfall carried weight.

  “You’re too good,” he stated and when he spoke his voice had gotten quiet and deep. “Good people aren’t deceitful.”

  “Maybe,” I said. “But how do you know I’m that good?” I was overly aware of how close he was to me, how large his blue eyes looked from a foot away as they gazed down into mine.

  He took one step further. “I just know, Beck,” he all but whispered.

  The crackle of the fire rang in my ears as I was swept into the gaze of his piercing eyes. I was locked in place, suspended in air, as he lifted a hand to my chin and tilted it up ever so slightly. I relaxed into his hand, let him move me. This close I could smell his intoxicating scent like I could the first night, a smell now wrapped in memories of excitement, possibility, and sex.

  He leaned down, slowly, before pressing his lips to mine. He deepened the kiss until his tongue found its way inside my mouth. I felt a rushing heat in my center pulse at the feeling of his tongue against mine, the warmth of his hands, one that cupped my waist pulling me closer to his powerful body, the other entangled in my hair, ensnaring me in this illicit embrace. I surrendered myself to it fully, allowing him to kiss me and kissing him back with equally matched passion.

  In that beautiful room, in that magical building, time stood still and all I wanted was for it to last because somewhere, deep inside me, I knew what would happen when he pulled away.

  Sam finally withdrew, his hand still on my waist. He looked down at me, a soft smile on his perfect lips. But as soon as his mouth left mine, the spell broke. Everything came rushing back. He’s your boss! He’s rich! Too rich, richer than Troy! Is that what you want? Is that what you’re going to go right back to? I saw a flash of Troy’s face, the fear in his eyes as he lay on our kitchen floor, crying, repeating those terrible words over and over: I hit him. And who knows how many women he’s brought back here? How many has he kissed in just the right way in front of this goddamn fireplace?

  The Tempest was like a magical fairytale kingdom, but I was no princess. It was all an illusion, made to get dumb girls like me to let their guard down. How could I have been so stupid?

  I pulled away, unable to meet his eye.

  “Beck…” he started, but I was already walking out of the room quickly, hoping I could escape this place before the thorns grew up around it.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Sam

  The pounding in my head beat in time with the ringing of my alarm. It was much too early, but only because I’d stayed out much too late and drank much more than I should have alone in the library after Beck left. Left. Ran was the better word for it. And why wouldn’t she? Her boss brought her back to a “gentleman’s club” and made a pass at her. She didn’t see me in that way anymore, not now that I signed her paychecks.

  Or whatever the modern day equivalence of that was.

  I didn’t blame her. I couldn’t. The relationship was doomed from the beginning because I ignored all the rules I held most sacred. Don’t get attached. Don’t form relationships. And good god, don’t fall in love. Love was fleeting, temperamental, able to be squashed out completely by a single sentence spoken in anger. Or by a lump growing in a breast. If it couldn’t be bought and sold, traded as a tangible thing, then I had no interest in it. And not only was Beck the last person I should ever be involved with anyway, but this was the worst time to even think about starting a relationship. There was so much wrong with it, I was starting to question my sanity last night. How could I think this could ever be a good idea? It had to be the stress of the job. I was starting to spiral at the thought of not pulling this building off and instead of panicking, I was convincing myself that I wanted to settle down, of all things.

  Well I didn’t and I wasn’t and the building would work out. It had to.

  I got dressed quickly, downed some Aspirin and two bottles of water, and called Roy to ferry me to work. In the SUV, I examined myself in the mirror. I looked a little tired, but not too bad. Passable, especially after a Saturday night. Besides, I doubted many people would be in today anyway. I’d just sneak into my office and brainstorm for a while. With my mind off Beck.

  I avoided any familiar faces in the building as I snuck to my floor. Like I’d suspected, the office was mostly empty. A few office lights were on, but the shades were closed. Everyone wanted their privacy today apparently.

  I walked down the hall to my office, turned the corner, and jumped back about two feet when I saw Beck sitting on her desk, obviously waiting for me.

  “Beck!” I said sharply. I set my jaw, embarrassed she’d caught me so off guard. “What are you doing here? You’re going to give me a heart attack.”

  “Sorry,” she said quickly, but then she caught herself and her face hardened. “Actually, you know what? I’m not sorry.”

  I sighed. I really didn’t want to think about this today. I was supposed to be working. Sorting out whatever was going on with Beck was a personal issue. Well, it would have been if she wasn’t my assistant. You brought this on yourself, idiot.

  I jerked my head toward the office. “Come inside. We don’t want the entire office hearing this.”

  She jumped off the desk and stormed into my office. I followed, steeling myself for whatever she had prepared for me. Walking behind my desk, I draped my coat over the back of my chair, but didn’t sit down. Instead I rolled the sleeves of my dress shirt up to my elbows and crossed my arms. There. Now I was ready.

  “What can I—”

  “Do you have any respect for me?” It was a flat question, not an emotional beg, one that demanded to be answered.

  “Of course,” I said.

  She narrowed her eyes slightly.

  “I do,” I insisted. “I would have no problem telling you if I didn’t.”

  “Then you respect me enough to be honest with me?” she asked.

  Oh boy. I nodded. “I do,” I said. The words came softer upon repetition but with no less gravity.

  “Did you bring me into that library last night intending to hook up with me?”

  I should have expected the question, but it still hit me straight in the gut. Mostly because I wasn’t sure of the answer. I’d been wildly attracted to Beck in The Black Shade and even Mac’s fit didn’t take away from how genuinely happy I’d been to see her. It’d been awkward at first, sure, but as the night went on and we fell into a playful banter, I’d forgotten the purely physical and started to just enjoy her company. I knew, in my heart, that if I’d thought we’d have sex or even kiss, I would have gone home with Mac. Because I was smart enough to know that it would lead to a scene like this.

  “Beck,” I said, “I fully understand that what I did last night was unprofessional and inappropriate. I’m sorry. I didn’t really expect Henry and Mason to pair off so quickly, otherwise I’d have never gone there with you.” I sighed and shook my head. “But really there’s no excuse.”

  “What do you mean?” Her face was unreadable.

  “Obviously I’m still attracted to you,” I said. “I should have known I wouldn’t be able to control myself, that some part of my brain would have me convinced making a move was a smart idea. But trust me, in the light of day, I know it’s not going to happen. I hope you’ll accept my apology as genuine.”

  Beck’s face softened and she bit her bottom lip. “I guess I’m still attracted to you too,”
she confessed. “But you’re right. It’s unprofessional and it’s obviously never going to work out. I’m sorry too. I should have confronted you last night instead of running away.”

  “You don’t have to apologize for anything,” I said.

  “But I want to.”

  I gave her a small smile. “Then I forgive you.”

  She bit her lip and nodded. “Thank you.” But there was a catch in her voice, like there was something she wanted to tell me but couldn’t bring herself to.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked, searching her face for clues.

  “It’s nothing,” she said. “I just…” She looked out the window, at the sun reflecting off the towers of Midtown. “It’s a beautiful city,” she said.

  “I agree.”

  “Did I ever tell you I came here to get away from greed and immorality?”

  I laughed softly. “You might have come to the wrong city, Beck.”

  She nodded. “Maybe I did. But I’m glad I came all the same.”

  “I’m glad too.”

  She turned back to me, her mouth open, something like a confession in her eyes, but before it could clear her lips, my phone rang.

  She stopped and my heart stopped too. Because who would be calling my work phone on a Sunday if not someone wildly unaccustomed to the business world? But Beck was also about to tell me something that seemed important. I looked to her.

  “Take it,” she whispered. I nodded and picked up the receiver.

  “Hello,” I said.

  “Hello, is this Mr. Samuel Callahan?” a woman’s voice asked.

  “It is,” I replied.

  “My name is Dorthea Bloom. I’m Ed Bloom’s daughter. I understand you want to buy our building?”

  “That’s right, Miss Bloom. I’m very interested in buying your property and my company is prepared to offer you a large sum of money. Would you be free to come into my office today?”