Page 6 of A Billion Dollar Romance
“Ah, I…” I felt the heat rising on my cheeks. “I shouldn’t have told you my name was Penelope. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“No, it won’t,” he agreed. His shoulders seemed as broad and imposing as his smooth desk, and unlike in college, I now knew that it wasn’t just the suit: his shoulders had been wide and strong as he pinned me to the bed, his mouth on my jaw, his hips… “I didn’t realize you were starting a job here, or it wouldn’t have happened at all. I asked you here to ensure that you understand that what happened between us last night,” my heart fluttered against my ribcage, “will not happen again. It was a lapse in judgement.”
His face was stony, with none of the heat or lightness of last night. That man had been James. The man before me was CEO Martin.
“Your…performancewill not earn you any special privileges while you’re working here at Verity Publishing, but,” he steepled his fingers on the desk in front of him. “I won’t hold it against you, either, so long as you agree to leave it behind us.”
“I understand,” I said.I wasn’t fired. I wasn’t fired.I was working with–well,for–Professor Martin, andI wasn’t fired.“Of course.”
“Alright.” He sat back. “That’s all. Class dismissed,” he said, and smirked.
God, I thought, as my stomach flip-flopped, cheeks burning,have I not progressed past starry-eyed co-ed at all?And now, it was worse: I could still picture the way his face had looked when he exploded into the condom, the sounds I’d made under him. I couldn’t decide if it was more mortifying or arousing. Both, maybe, and neither were comfortable feelings to have in your boss’s boss’s boss’s office.
Still, though, that didn’t stop me from opening my stupid mouth.
“Can I ask you something?” I said, hesitating. “Work-related,” I added, and he nodded. “Why are you working here at Verity?” I blurted out. “I didn’t know you were…”
“CEO of a publishing company?” he asked, his face clouding over. “This was my grandfather’s company. I recently came into my inheritance.”
“Oh,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
“But you aren’t… teaching?” I pressed. “Or writing? You have such talent–”
“A fan?” he said, and my cheeks went warmer still. “No. I’m not writing. I’m busy with the business,” he added, eyes narrowing. “This company makes a billion dollars a year.”
I knew. I’d read the website, but somehow, coming from his lips, it sounded more impressive. A billion dollars, and he was in charge of it, the weight of it resting squarely on his capable shoulders. I nodded. “Of course,” I said. “Sorry.” I stood to leave. “And sorry about your grandfather.”
“Miss Taylor,” he said, his eyes narrowing under his straight, dark brows. “You said you wanted to be a writer.”
I nodded.
“Then let me ask you a question.Work-related,” he smirked. “Why are you here as a junior editor?” The way he asked made it sound like I was the janitor. Worse. Like I was the trash can. “I thought by now you’d be published.”
My mouth opened, but no words came out. He thought by now I’d be published? “I–I’m excited to work for Verity Publishing,” I stammered, repeating a meaningless line from my interview process. “I’m interested in learning more about the process of publishing, from idea to execution. Being a junior editor here is a great stepping stone–”
“Fine,” he said, waving his hand. “I get it, thanks, I don’t need the whole damn monologue. Just… I expected better for you. Of you.”
“Oh,” I said. What was I supposed to say to that?Thank you? Excuse me?Instead, I just said, again, “Oh.”
He raised an eyebrow. “That’s all, Miss Taylor,” he said. “You can go.”
“Of course,” I said, and hurried from his office, forcing myself to smile at the secretary again before escaping to the elevator, where I closed my eyes tight and tried not to cry.
CHAPTER5
James
I couldn’t helpmyself around her.
That was the only explanation. For last night, when I’d let myself half-believe her name really was Penelope, when I’d allowed myself to take her back to my penthouse, knowing full well it was wrong of me. She was mystudent, for fuck’s sake, I cursed as she shut the door behind her and scurried off to her cubicle somewhere on the more populous floors below me.
Had been, I corrected. She wasn’t my student any longer, was she? She was a woman now, not the bookish, shy twenty-one-year-old she’d been when she sat in my senior seminar, asking intelligent questions and looking up at me through those long, long lashes. No, she’d accepted a drink with the confidence of the adult she was now, she’d flirted like she had experience, and when she’d asked me if I wanted to get out of there, I hadn’t been able to say no, not to her. She’d asked for what she wanted without hesitation, and I’d given it to her, again and again and again. She’d been so soft and warm and willing, enthusiastic in a way that the models and socialites I usually took to bed never were.
What was the worst that could happen?I had thought. We would have one night together, and that would be it.
And then she showed up at my company, looking so much the way she once had–hair pulled back to better display the eager curiosity written all over her face–that my heart had lurched in my chest and my cock twitched.
