Bought and Paid for: Servicing the Billionaire (A BDSM Erotic Romance)

Bought and Paid
for
: Servicing
the Billionaire

Published by Adriana
Rossi

Copyright 2012 Adriana Rossi

Discover other titles by Adriana Rossi at
Author
Central

* * *

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in critical reviews
.

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“
Miss K
ramar!”

The baritone voice of the
White
Group CEO boomed through the heavy-set, oak doors. Mary cringed at the sound of his voice.
What now?
She had giv
en him an intercom
so that he could simply push a button and ask for her assistance
instead of screaming through the door
.
Mr.
White
had
surveyed the device over his customary glass of whiskey and
waved
it off
, sayin
g that he was too old-fashioned
and that he didn’t bother wi
th such frivolous inventions. Matthew White
was only thirty years old.

“MARY!”

She jumped out of her office seat as if a fire had lit under her ass.
She took a moment to compose herself and smooth
ed
over her pencil skirt.
Don’t give him attitude, don’t frown. Just do whatever he asks.

She opened the door. “Mr.
White
, how can I help?”

The shades in his office were drawn and the room was cast in almost pitch darkness except for the laptop on his desk which illuminated his young face in a ghostly blue hue.
One hand clutched a glass of dark liquid that he always kept at his desk.

Matthew White, handsome billionaire CEO of Whitefield Malls: nothing more than an alcoholic.
Mary mused to herself. Though it wasn’t exactly fair, Mr. White wasn’t exactly an alcoholic. He didn’t come to work reeking of liquor.

His eyes narrowed at her as if he was displeased with something she had done.
His brown hair fell haphazardly into his eyes, which he brushed away impatiently.

“Miss Kramar, so nice of you to join me at last,” he snarled with a sardonic grin. The ugly look on his face marred his otherwise handsome features.
“I’m a very busy man, Miss Kramar. You are being paid as my personal assistant.
I expect you to come running
when I call your name.
I throw. You fetch.
Are we clear?”

Why is he such a prick? Is it to punish all women?
“
Yes, Mr. White
,” she intoned.

He frowned in a disapproving manner and beckoned her with a gesture. “Come here,” he said acidly.

Regret flooded her chest as she approached his desk.
What did I do now?
Mr. White had a way of making someone feel as if they had done something horribly wrong, and h
er knees trembled as she stood beside him.

“I said,
come
.”

Mary gasped as he grabbed her wrist in a firm grip and pulled her closer. She could not bring herself to meet his angry gaze. With his other hand, he gently lifted her chin until they were almost nose to nose.
She could feel his cool breath on her face and smell the musky notes of his cologne. All she had to do was lean in slightly and their lips would touch. The thought of
such a brazen action
made heat rush through her veins.

“I don’t appreciate your tone, Miss Kramar. I’ve given you a great opportunity to serve me. Should you chose to leave this job, I will give you the recommendation I feel you deserve.
Keep that in mind.” His eyes bored into hers as he awaited her response.

Was that a threat?
Her heart was beating abnormally fast—she realized that there was more at stake here. She wouldn't just lose her job; he would make sure the only job she would ever get was at the local diner.
She put on a face of appropriate remorse.
“I am very sorry, Mr. White. I don’t want you
to think I don’t appreciate this job. I really do. I want you—I mean
—
I want you to be pleased with me.”

He
smiled at that and gently stroked her cheek with the hand that held her chin. Then he relinquished her and paused, looking
up and down her outfit, silently appraising her.
A shiver ran down her spine as he examined her
.

“I’ve never really appreciated pants on a woman. You should wear skirts more often. See that you do.”
There was no shame on his face.

Did he just tell me what to wear?
Mary said nothing
, but smiled pleasantly
. She supposed he could afford to be sexist, being
obscenely
rich and all. Normally, Mary wouldn’t have tolerated such behavior in the workplace.
But Mr. White was exceptionally handsome, and she was flattered rather than disgusted from his remarks. She gazed at his i
mpassive face and wondered the CEO of White
field
Malls
was
actually
attracted to her.
 

“
Get someo
ne to replace the light bulbs.”

Cruel reality set in
. She was his assistant, nothing more.
He just sees me as his personal slave.
“Of course, Mr.
White
. Perhaps you would like me to open the shades to let some—
”

Mr.
White
silenced her with a deadly glare. The shadows around his eyes were accentuated by the glow of the computer, and it frightened her. He was such a peculiar man. Every morning
,
he would drive directly in the parking garage and use the elevator to get to his office. He demanded that the shades in the office must always be closed and shut. Once, Mary had allowed a sliver of sunshine to filter through her window and Mr.
White
had walked through it. He let out a guttural howl and then
wrenched
her into his office, where he reduced her to tears
by
calling her incompetent, stupid, and every
imaginable insult in the world.

He was allergic to the sun and could not tolerate a ray
of sunlight, no matter how small
.
He also forbade his staff to enter his office at certain hours of the day.
Probably jacks off to some sort of sick, twist
ed porn he keeps in his drawer,
she thought with malice.

“You will resent me,” he had warned her when
she was hired
. “You will probably hate me. I am a perfectionist, Miss Kramar, and I expect the best out of you. Every. Single. Day.”

“I will, Mr. White,” she had said in earnest. “You won’t be disappointed.”

“I certainly hope so. I’ve been through several incompetent assistants. See that you don’t become one of them.”

At the time, she had been taken by his beauty. His wavy brown l
ocks ran down his head
as if they had been ironed on. His
dark, forbidding eyes hid behind
thick, long lashes. He wore a constant scowl on his face, but had no wrinkles.
He was uncharacteristically pale and had hollow cheeks, but all of this suited him.
He was a formidable man, and Mary felt uncomfortable under his presence
. It was
as if she was being x-rayed.
She had applied to the job without
any
experience, fully expecting
her resume to be tossed in the
nearest
bin. S
omehow, miraculously,
she had gotten the job.

Mary left his office and starting searching for bulbs in the supply closet. She had been working for him for three months, and every time she felt like quitting—which was almost daily—she would retrieve a pay stub that she kept in her pocket and stare at the num
bers. Two thousand four-
hundred and fifty. Every week.

She took it out now and studied the numbers, blowing out her cheeks. No, she couldn’t
refuse that amount of money
. No matter how awful he was.

Mary found
box
es
of
light bulbs
and snatched one. She also found a ladder which she lugged with her.
She dragged the ladder into Mr.
White
’s office and set it up under the light fixture. Mr.
White
was engaged in a loud, angry conversation on his telephone and ignored her. He adamantly refused to get a cell phone.
The marketing department had distributed free iPhones to every senior manager and upper-level management officer. Mr.
White
had tossed his in the garbage
while Mary had looked on in disbelief
.

“That’s a four-hundred dollar phone you just threw away.”

He had given her a sharp glance
that made her bite her tongue
.

“It’s r
idiculous,” he had muttered in disdain at the touch screen display. “All I use a phone for is conversations. Why does a phone need all this nonsense?”

The office
was pitch black and the hallway only let a modicum of light inside the room. She climbed the ladder awkwardly in her pencil skirt, only to discover that the ladder was too far away from the light.
She looked at Mr.
White
, who was paying her no attention.
He was such an inconsiderate ass.
He could care less that
she couldn’t see in the dark and that she could break her n
eck trying to replace the
bulb.
She climbed down the steps and repositioned the ladder. Luckily, she was wearing wedges today.

“Five million dollars?” he shouted in indignation. “That is ridiculous. I’ve been working in IT for thirty years!
Don’t bullshit me, Greg. W
hen I worked for Unicorp
I used to do that in
a week
!
Six months? Is that a joke?
”

Mary suppressed a laugh.
Thirty years
, indeed. What, does he think he can fool everyone?
Mary climbed the ladder.
She grabbed the screwdriver she had stuck inside her skirt and began to unscrew
the lamp. It fell into her open hands and she reached for the bulb.

“I’m not approving that amount. If your team can’t do it—then I’ll find someone who can.”

Mr.
White
slammed the handheld phone into its receptacle
, making Mary jump in surprise
.
The ladder rattled suddenly and adrenaline shot through her veins.

Still fuming from the phone call, h
e turned his furious gaze to Mary. “Mary, what on Earth ar
e you doing replacing that
in those shoes? Are you trying to kill yourself?”

“I’m fine, Mr.
White
.”

He blew air out of nose and muttered something about amateurs.

Mary strained as she twisted
the bulb.
Mary looked down as
Mr.
White
’s voice filled the air. He
was on the phone again, and his gaze kept wandering up her legs and thighs.

She couldn’t help but smirk, prideful that the world’s most handsome billionaire was checking her out.
In another world, Mary
imagined him ripping off her blouse and burying his face into her tits. She could feel the skin on her breasts stiffen with gooseflesh at the mere thought. A man like him wanting her was almost too much to handle. S
he turned her attention back to her task, her cheeks burning
. Her elbow nudged the used lightbulb and it fell to the mahogany floor where it shattered
loudly
into pieces.

Mary cringed
at the noise and
saw the pieces scattering across the floor.
She replaced the lamp and descended the ladder, mortified at her blunder.
Mr.
White
was finishing his conversation
but showed no sign that he had noticed anything
. She began to gingerly pick up the large pieces of glass. Frustration welled inside her
chest like acid burning at her
throat
. She grabbed a sharp piece carelessly and
grunted
in pain.