Authors: Claire Adams
Copyright
© 2015 Claire Adams
THE
BOSS #1
CHAPTER
1
ARIA
I wasn’t quite sure what to do with the
heartfelt and endlessly awkward confession of romantic allegiance that one of
my customers was currently delivering. Would he notice if I stealthily put my
headphones on?
On a normal day, I let men down easy. An
eight-hour shift at the bank immediately following forty-eight hours of no
sleep and two very difficult midterms does not constitute a normal day. I
squinted at the gentleman in front of me, who seemed mesmerized by the palms of
his hands based on the way he was staring at them. Mitch? Mark?
“And, you know, I come here, like, every
day at the same time because, you know, like, that’s when your shift is,” he
was mumbling, eyes firmly on his palm. “Sometimes I, like, just come and
deposit some cash only to withdraw it the very next day for no other reason
other than to see you.”
Really? I could have never guessed. It’s
pretty normal for people around here to make daily deposits and withdrawals of
exactly $200 without fail for a whole month. Moron.
“Listen,” I said finally. He looked up and
made eye-contact just for a split second—long enough for me to notice the
droplets on his horn-rimmed glasses. Sweat? Oh God. “I am really flattered
but-”
“But girls like you don’t go out with guys
like me.” I could almost hear the whimper in his voice now. “I get it.”
Shit.
“No no no no! I’m engaged,” I blurted without
thinking. “To – to…” Surveying the room frantically, I pointed at the only
logical direction, cringing with fear and embarrassment at the thought that
this interaction might have an audience. “To him. My boss. He is very
possessive so you should be careful. He owns the bank and he is well connected.
If he learns of this he has the power to ruin your credit, and believe me, he
will do it. You should find a different branch to go to from now on to be safe
– switch banks even if you have to! It’s in your best interest.”
The man I was pointing at flashed a
crooked smile, his eyes firmly rested on his computer, and I felt my chest
fall. Don’t be silly Aria, there is no way he can hear you. He was at least
fifty feet across the hall, inside his office behind a solid glass door. He
would have to have superhuman hearing abilities to be able to hear this
conversation. Although, it would hardly surprise me if he did possess such a
skill; almost everything about Zayden Sinclair was a notch above the average human.
At thirty-two he was the owner and CEO of
the Southern National Bank empire, but you didn’t need to know about his
economic stature to feel the power that he exuded through sheer physical
presence. He had the tendency to command the attention of anybody within a
five-mile-radius without so much as saying a word. Women of all ages gravitated
towards him, and his dashing looks and defined physique were only partially
responsible for the effect. In fact, dashing did not begin to accurately
describe his rare combination of piercing blue eyes, perfectly chiseled
jawline, and dark, wavy hair straight out of a men’s shampoo commercial.
Sometimes I could swear I saw his six-packs defined through his shirt, or even
his sweater. Maybe my imagination interfered at that point.
And my imagination is where Zayden’s
shirtless body should remain. I had seen too many girls fall prey to his charms
and had no interest in losing the job that kept me in college just because I
couldn’t control the desire to touch whatever was underneath that shirt. This
branch went through tellers faster than the days of the week, and I wasn’t
going to become a number in the statistical chart of Zayden’s conquests.
***
Half an hour later I was thankful for the
clock to indicate it was my lunch break. After my admiring customer left
holding back tears, there was a sudden stream of traffic in the teller’s booth,
and I had to deal with an old woman who accused the bank of stealing from her.
It shouldn’t be that difficult to convince somebody that a multi-million dollar
corporation would gain nothing from robbing an old lady of fifty bucks.
I was relieved to find that the pantry in
the back end of the bank was empty. Normally I enjoy some commotion but today I
was just really tired, mentally and physically. And hungry. I hadn’t realized
how hungry I was.
I sat down on the
first table looking away from the door and removed the box of leftover sushi
from my bag. Before I could open it, however, I heard a very familiar voice.
“So when’s our wedding?”
Shit. I could hear the thudding sound of
my chest as though it were adjacent to my ears. It must have been a whole
minute before I gathered the courage to slowly turn around, ignoring the chills
in my fingers.
“You heard that?” I laughed. Thank you
Acting 101 Gen-Ed requirements. “Spying on your tellers now? The NSA would be
so proud.”
Zayden’s lips crooked very slightly. Was
that a smile? Was he amused? Angry? Oh God, I really couldn’t tell.
“We keep a microphone at the tellers’
booth in every branch for surveillance, in case there is any suspicious
activity from a customer. Handling money is serious business.”
I actually knew that. How could I have
been so stupid?
“Which is why I made up that little story
about us, so that guys like that don’t continue to distract me from my very
serious job of handling your money.”
I was quite surprised by the confidence in
my own voice.
He laughed. Phew. It was an adorable laugh
and I wouldn’t mind kissing him while he did it. No wonder the other tellers
couldn’t keep their hands off of him with his dashing looks. Men this powerful
are hard to turn down.
He was fumbling with a button on his coat
and I tried hard not to wish that my nipples were his buttons. I should have
been embarrassed; he had heard me claim I was engaged to him, and imply he was
connected to the mob. If embarrassment was the socially acceptable reaction to
such a situation, then why the hell was I so aroused? He was coming closer and
I momentarily forgot how to breathe.
“Let me make you a proposition,” he said
as he sat down across from me. “We will never have to speak about of your
encounter with that bespectacled guy if you let me take you out to lunch
tomorrow.”
“I have to work,” I said automatically.
Was I even breathing? I couldn’t be sure.
“I’ll pay you to take the whole day off.
And maybe after lunch we can spend the whole day in my apartment being, you
know, ‘married’ for the day.”
He winked. I felt my pulse rising. Right
now I couldn’t think of a single reason to turn his offer down, but I had to
get ahold of myself. This was what Zayden did, and I was smarter than the women
who fell for it.
“Sure, we can meet each other’s parents
and raise some children after,” I laughed. It wasn’t a convincing laughter. I
got up before things could get out of hand. “I’ll eat this later. Have a nice
day Mr. Sinclair,” I said and walked away without looking back.
This must have been what a tornado felt
like.
CHAPTER
2
ZAYDEN
I looked at the girl lying next to me with
a mixture of confusion and amusement. I was pretty sure she was faking sleep.
Just like last night she had pretended to be too intoxicated to go home, even
when I suggested I would have my chauffeur drive her in one of the limos. Girls
like this got on my nerves, and I was starting to regret taking her back to my
place.
Not that I wasn’t used to girls clinging
on like this; usually, however, after a good fuck I would just tell them that I
was “emotionally unavailable.” There would be some crying, but eventually those
words would drive women to flee without much egging on my part. I let out an
involuntary snort. Women. All I knew was it worked. Anything worked. Everything
worked.
Most of the time, anyway. Very rarely did
women deny my advances, and Aria Roberts had been the first in countless years
to so casually turn me down. It excited me to maddening degrees; it had gotten
far too easy for me to get women and I needed a good challenge. But last night,
I was so frustrated that I picked up the first pair of sexy boobs that flashed
in my face at the Tavern. Boring personality, if she had one at all, and an
even more boring lay. I had half the mind to finish myself off in the middle of
it, but felt sorry for the poor soul. Another reason it pissed me off that she
was still lying comfortable in my king-sized bed.
“Wake up!” I tapped her shoulders. “Quick!
It’s time to go home.”
She opened her eyes slowly and got out of
the covers, still naked. She did have nice breasts; maybe it wasn’t the worst
pick-up ever after all.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, ruffling her
hair. Trying to be cute. Women. “I didn’t realize I over-slept. I was…”
Yeah, the breasts were really something.
She was rambling on but I didn’t catch a single word, or care to. I felt myself
get harder watching her nipples and just threw her back into the bed. She
seemed way too excited about it; I’d have to deal with it later but for now I
just grabbed her and closed my eyes.
I thrust myself deep inside her, picturing
Aria Roberts’ tiny body and perfect little ass in my mind. Fuck.
***
“Mrs. Sinclair asked me about your
whereabouts this morning,” my driver Ned said.
I grunted. My mother had a way of getting
on my nerves.
“Tell her I’m in Bali for the rest of the
month.”
“I think she plans to surprise you with a
visit,” he said apologetically.
Ned was one of the only people in the
world I would trust with my life. He had been with our family for over two
decades, and helped me keep it together when my dad passed away, six years ago
today. It was the day of my MBA graduation and I was supposed to leave for a
vacation to Spain that night; I had no real plans, no rush to hurry into a
career. He had a stroke, and all of a sudden I was left without a father and
without my youth, and with the South National Bank empire as compensation for
my loss. Every single day of my life since that day six years ago has been
dedicated to growing what my dad had built, to honor his legacy, to take his
company further than his wildest imaginations.
This left no room for friends or any kind
of social life outside of what the business demanded, and I couldn’t be happier
about it. There would be parties and overseas cruises and models in penthouses,
but all for the business, all to convince shareholders and investors that I
made them happy and that their money was best suited in my expert hands. The
models in penthouses were the only mildly pleasurable part. Generally though,
any social situation was an arena for manipulation and cunning, and just
another way to build on my dad’s empire. People tended to hold me back and
there was no room in my life for a pause.
Ned was, in some ways, my only friend.
“It’s okay. I’ll take care of it, Ned.” I
sighed. “You don’t worry about it.”
When I got to my desk, I was welcomed by a
slew of emails. The union in the Nashville branch was organizing a third strike
this year and had closed up for business. What a bunch of fucking babies. I was
all for fair wages and benefits; so much so that I had been invited to a local
TED talk to address the importance of solidarity and understanding between
company executives and the lowest level employees. I turned down the invite –
only people who don’t practice have time to preach – but was subsequently
featured in ZEN magazine for running the only set of banks in the nation that
paid even the cleaning staff over twice the minimum wage. The first union
strike hadn’t phased me—it would have almost moved me if I were capable of such
a thing—and I had raised companywide salary. The second time and onwards it had
just started to look like they were testing how far they could push me. I felt
a tremor of anger as I dialed Tom, the Nashville VP.
“Shut it down,” I said sharply.
Tom huffed and puffed some words that
faintly resembled coherence, but my attention drifted away from the problem at
hand as I saw Aria Roberts walk into the building and towards the teller’s
booth. She had a fascinating body. Not stunning in any traditional sense. I had
fucked far too many supermodels to be excited by infinite legs and plastic
breasts. Aria was what could only be defined as cute. Cute in the sexiest way
possible. She had a petite figure and couldn’t be much taller than 5’3, if
that, and it suited her heart-shaped face and bright brown eyes. Her long red
hair covered half of her tiny body, ending slightly above her lower back. Her
breasts were on the smaller side, but all I needed was a mouthful. There was a
mouthful there for sure, and plenty to spare. What really stood out was her
perfectly round ass. It was bigger than most of her and I wasn’t sure how she
could fit that curve in her small body and still walk with a stride. I was
getting hard just looking at her through my glass door.
“Zay? You there?”